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My Jobe Ancestors (Ann Jobe Brown--me) |
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Epsey A. 'Epsa' (Jobe) Hall
--b. abt 1822 Wayne Co., MO
--d. abt July 1869 Oregon Co., MO
--m. William C. HALL
--abt 1842
----b. 1821/22 Alabama
----d. June 1860 - Sept 1868 Oregon Co., MO
------s/o James Hall and Mary Ann 'Polly' WILLIAMS
- 1830 Wayne Co., Missouri
--listed as female under age 5 with Eli Joab- 1830 Ripley Co., Missouri
--listed as female, age 15-20 with Eli Job- 1850 Oregon Co., Missouri
--listed as Epsa Hall, age 28- 1860 Oregon Co., Missouri
--listed as Epsy Hall, age 38
This is the infamous Oregon Co., Mo murder case in which Carroll Rice murdered his wife, Sarah, and was later executed for the murder. Their 3 children were raised by Sarah's parents!Republican-Tribune, May 12, 1899, page 1
"Carrol M. Rice murdered his wife, Mary C. Rice on 27 June 1898. He was found “guilty” and sentenced to death by hanging.Republican-Tribune, June 16, 1899 , pgs 1 & 4
Rice to Hang — Carrol Rice, the wife-murderer now in jail at Alton, has been sentenced by the supreme court to be hung Thursday June 15. The execution will take place at Alton.Swung Into Eternity. Carrol Rice Pays the Penalty of His Awful Crime. Witnessed By Thousands. The Prisoner Lunged for Freedom Once, but Died Game---A History of the Crime and the Story of His Wild and Troubled Life — Carrol Rice, the wife murderer, paid the penalty of his awful crime with his life at Alton yesterday. The noose was adjusted and the trap was sprung at 12:50. At 12:58 the subject was pronounced dead, and at 1:06, a period of 16 minutes, the body was cut down. The spectacle was witnessed by a crowd of near 3,000 people, who from the lay of the ground could see over the walls of the stockade and observe all that took place upon the scaffold. The execution was conducted with perfect care, and everything passed off without the slightest hitch. Rice was led onto the scaffold promptly at 12:30 by Sheriff Cal Taylor and Deputy Sheriff Charlie Davis. The trio was followed by Rev. A.R. Sitton, Elder J.F. Glass, the prisoner’s attorney, L.P. Norman and several ladies forming quite a procession as they mounted the gallows singing a religious song. Rice carried himself erectly and walked firmly onto the platform. His hands were shackled behind him. His face was slightly flushed with the excitement. He turned his face from side to side as he confronted the sea of faces before him, plainly visible beyond the walls of the stockade, and there was an expression in his eyes like that of a hunted animal. L.P. Norman, as the prisoner’s attorney, stepped forward and addressed a few well chosen words to the crowd upon behalf of the prisoner and the defense. He recited the efforts made by the defense to save the life of Rice, thanked those who had extended sympathy and assistance, and expressed the good will of the prisoner and his attorneys toward the prosecution and those who did not feel it incumbent upon them to sign the petitions for executive clemency. Rev. A.R. Sitton then came to the edge of the scaffold for the prisoner and delivered the latter’s farewell message. He described the terrible mental struggle which Rice had undergone during the previous night—which was to be his last upon earth. He spoke of the deep remorse of the prisoner for his sins, of his final conversion and faith in God, of his perfect resignation to the fate before him, and conviction that he was now prepared for death. The speaker then made a powerful plea to the unconverted to take this awful lesson to heart, and consider their ways before they, too, were brought to the door of death. He closed with an eloquent prayer that brought many to tears. Another song followed and then the clerical party retired from the scaffold. Sheriff Deatheridge of Shannon county and Deputy Sheriffs Geo. Clark, W.W. McLelland and C.L. Davis assisted Sheriff Taylor in preparing the prisoner for execution. He stood erect and calm before the crowd, but when the sheriff began to tie his hands, he said in a low voice, “You ain’t goin’ to hang me, are you, Cal?” “Yes,” replied the sheriff, “I have to hang you.” He drew himself up and the old wild nature, imbibed from the free life of the woods, for the moment prevailed and he surged from side, to side to break away from the grasp of his guards. But in an instant he recovered his presence of mind, and after that bore up with wonderful nerve to the last. When his hands and legs were pinioned, he was urged by the guards and a number of spectators to speak his last words. Finally in a low voice he said: “Meet me in a better world than this.” When asked if he had anything further to say, he shook his head. “Are you ready, Carrol?” inquired the sheriff. He nodded assent, and in a twinkling the black cap was placed over his head, “God!” he muttered, “It is awful to die like this!” These were the last words he uttered. The sheriff carefully adjusted the noose and sprung the trap. In the midst of the heart-broken sobs of his sisters, and the groans of the spectators Carrol Rice was launched into eternity. The body fell a distance of nine feet, and barely quivered as the life passed from it. The pulse was registered by Drs. Gum and Eblen and life pronounced extinct at the end of six minutes from the drop. The subject’s neck was broken. The body was cut down at 1:06 and placed in a coffin, which was ready. Sheriff Deatherage addressed the crowd immediately after the trap was sprung. He called attention to the difficult position in which a sheriff is placed upon such an occasion. In a few well chosen words he urged the people to pay no attention to the silly tales so often started at times like this, and made the announcement that the body of the deceased would be placed upon exhibition as soon as it could be placed in the coffin. A few moments later the coffin was carried out of the stockade and placed where all could see the body. It was viewed by thousands. During the whole of the execution the crowd was quiet and orderly to a degree. No attempt was made to destroy the stockade, and there was no unseemly levity. Perfect order prevailed. Guards were stationed around the platform inside the top of the stockade, but they had little to do. Sheriff Cal Taylor bore the severe strain upon his nerves without a tremor. His proceedings during the terrible ordeal were cool and deliberate. His attitude toward the prisoner was kindness itself, but he knew his duty and did it like a man. Sheriff Taylor is to be congratulated upon performing a terrible task so well that not a fault could be found by the most critical.
History of the Crime
The crime which Carrol Rice expiated upon the scaffold yesterday is still fresh in the minds of Oregon county citizens. Upon the 27th of June, 1898, a little less than a year ago, Rice fired upon his wife with a Winchester rifle, killing her almost instantly. She had left him a few weeks before and taken up her abode with an old lady living near Boze Mill, known as Grandma Connor. Rice had made several ineffectual efforts to induce her to live with him. On the night before the killing he went to the Connor house armed with his Winchester and concealed himself near by, “waylaid the house,” as he afterward termed it. He stayed there in the hope of seeing her until the occupants of the house retired; then he went to a hollow near the spring below the house and waited there till morning. Then he went to the milk lot and awaited her there. Failing to see her there he returned to the spring and waited until she appeared in company with a young Mrs. Connor. Rice approached and asked her to go home with him. She refused to talk at first but finally agreed to go if she could get her clothes which were at the house. She stooped to pick up the bucket of water and pass on. Then it was that the fiendish impulse to “just kill her,” as he expressed it, came upon Rice, and raising the rifle he fired the fatal shot. It took effect in the left breast, over the heart, and killed her at once. Rice approached the murdered woman, turned her over to see if the ball went through her body, also to “give her another one that would settle her,” if she was not dead. He told Mrs. Connor to “not act the fool that way,” that he “had got the one he wanted.” He went back to his wagon or “camp” about 7 miles from the scene of the killing and sent one of his little girls down to Thos. V. Crane’s place to tell him to come up. Crane, accompanied by a neighbor, went to the camp and found Rice coolly smoking. His first words were: “Come around and look at the murderer!” “What do you mean?” inquired Crane. “Why, I killed my wife this morning,” he replied, and then described the horrible tragedy in which he had figured as a principal. Mr. Crane put him under arrest and took him to Many Springs. When they were passing the Connor settlement, Rice straightened up in his saddle and said: “I wish I had my gun and I would give them another charge.” At Many Springs he was turned over to Bert Lowery and brought to the jail at Alton. He talked very freely of the killing to visitors, never expressing the slightest regret for the awful deed. He was tried at the Aug. term of the court and convicted of murder in the first degree. This decision, as our readers know, was affirmed by the supreme court last month. After work began on the scaffold Rice for the first time appeared to realize that his life was in danger. He lost his air of indifference and often wept, but it could not be said that he realized the awful crime of which he was guilty, or that he was remorseful for the deed.
The Story of His Life.
The quiet little town of Alton presented no preceptible change when we approached it Wed. There were a few strange faces here and there, but for the most part the same familiar figures were to be seen, and a stranger would hardly have surmised that a scaffold stood just off the square awaiting its victim, while a cabinet maker in a nearby shop bent to the task of making a coffin for a man still alive. This indifference, however, was only apparent. The throbbing of suppressed excitement was easily discernable to the close observer and the feeling of oppression preceding a tragedy crept into the stores, and hovered over the squads that gathered along the streets and about the court house doors. We found the prisoner, Carrol M. Rice, in his cell, lying down. He was a handsomer man than we expected to see. He wore a full beard, long, brown and silky, which had grown during the year of his confinement, and which had greatly changed his appearance. His features were smooth, but his expression lacked that peculiar intelligence which characterizes the human. There, standing at the open window of the stone jail, we heard from his own lips the story of Carrol Rice: “My full name? It is Carrol Monroe Rice. I was born in this county some time in August, 1864, which makes me nearly 35 years old. I was born in the old Job settlement, which was between where Job is now and Garfield, and I have lived in this county all my life, with the exception of a few trips I made down into Arkansas and over into Ripley county, Missouri. “Where did I go to school? I never went to school in my life except a few days once in a while. I went to school first when I was about 10 years old. That was to a widow lady. I think her name was Mrs. Harris. I only went a few days. Then when I was about 12 years old I went to Wellington McLelland a while. Not very long though, and I soon forgot what I learned. We studied out of an old blue-backed book then and I only got over a little way in it. I can’t read now, nor write a line. “I never was taught to attend church. I went lots of times when I was a boy, but somehow, when I did go I just sat around on stumps or fences and never went inside of the meeting house. I never listened to a sermon in my life. “When I was about 19 years old I got in with a woman from Stoddard county. Her name? Well, I guess it makes no difference about that. I married her. We didn’t live together long. A young fellow from Stoddard county took her away from me. When he took her back there, I come to Alton and got Evans, and a little sandy fellow named Clarke, they were lawyers here then, to get a ‘vorce for me. No, I don’t mind what year that was in. Before I got the ‘vorce my wife came back and begged me to let her stay, but I told her it was too late then. Later on I married a woman that grew up in the settlement. We lived together 9 years. We had lots of trouble. Seemed like the neighbors was always trying to get her away from me. We had 3 children when she died—2 girls and a boy. They are little fellows yet. “Well, I done my own housekeeping then for a spell, and one day when I was here at Alton I saw this woman that got me into this trouble. Her real name was Martha Phelps, but she didn’t go by that name. She had been around town here a while and some of the boys got at me to take her home with me. I was a drinkin’ that day. I never drank much in my life, but happened to be that day. “I took her home with me and she went to work and cleaned things up so fine and worked so well I thought I had a fortune. Everybody praised her, and I needed a housekeeper, so at last I got a license and we was married. Then my trouble began again. Always somebody to see her or always going somewhere. I can’t tell you all my trouble, but one of the things that bothered me was a witch book she had. She would read it and keep it locked up. One time I got the key of her trunk when she was gone, and got the book. I can’t read, but I got a feller to read out of it, and he read to me how to work charms, and how to do things that was witch-craft. The man that read it said it was no book for a Christian to read and he wouldn’t read any more of it. Well, this and her goings on with her charms set me to studying and worrying. It went on nigh 2 years till I just got sorter wild, and got to knockin’ down, and abusin’, and a drawin my gun on fellers. So I got up and moved from there. “We just moved around and lived in the wagon then. We worked a spell for Tom Crane and camped at his place in Ripley county. She left me there, and was gone 3 or 4 weeks. I kept hearing of her goings on until I got riled and went after her. She was at Granny Connor’s then. I went there and watched for her one night until they went to bed. Then I went down in the holler and built a fire and slept by that. “Well she came out in the morning and—then she got into it. That is about all there is to tell. I just thought all at once, “I’ll kill her!” and I done it. She wouldn’t go home with me like she ought to and I couldn’t get Granny Connor to drive her off. It seemed like everybody was against me and they have been all along. Now they are going to kill me. That won’t bring my woman’s life back, but I don’t expect anything else but to die now. Now you see what my life and troubles have been, stranger. They will soon be over for this world though, and I don’t know what to think the other world will be. I don’t know whether I will see you anymore or not but I am glad you came to see me. That’s all I can think of to tell you. Good-bye, stranger.”— One of the most trying scenes of the day occurred when the 2 sisters of the prisoner were admitted to his cell yesterday morning. Their grief was terrible to witness. The prisoner talked with them long and earnestly often weeping himself. They were the only relatives of the prisoner who evinced any interest in him. It is reported that he sent for his father a few days ago, and got a reply that “he was too busy with his crop to leave it.” The body was delivered to his sisters Mrs. Wm. Taylor and Miss Mollie Rice. It will be interred at the Garfield cemetery to day. A great many ladied visited the prisoner during the last few days, and many prayers were offered in his behalf by them and by the ministers who visited him. To their earnest work, doubtless, was due his conversion. He preserved perfect self posession to the last. At the request of the prisoner A.R. Sitton called at the jail a few hours before the execution to write the last messages to his father and brothers. We have secured the original notes as they were dictated by Rice.
To His Father
J.S. Rice, Dougan, Mo. Dear Pa 'I want you to meet me in heaven. I want you to do better and raise the rest of your children right. I was converted last night in the jail. Several of my friends were in the jail praying for me. I love the Lord and if I could live I would do all I could for him as long as I lived. I will die, loving the Lord, today about 1 o’clock. Your son, Carrol Rice.'
To His Brother
Aaron Rice, Dougan, Mo. Dear Aaron ' I was converted in jail last night. Some friends prayed with me. I will die about 1 o’clock today. I love the good Lord. I want you and Mary to serve the Lord and meet me in heaven. Quit gambling. Quit swearing. Quit drinking. Go to church and have somebody read about the good Lord in the bible to you. Carrol.'
To Another Brother
Wash Rice, Dougan, Mo. Dear Wash, 'I want you to live right and meet me in heaven. I was converted in jail last night. Albert Sitton and some other friends prayed for me here in jail. I love the Lord. If I could live I would serve him and do right. I want you to send my little children to school and church and raise them right. I want you and Roena to serve the good Lord and meet me in heaven. Your brother, Carrol. '
And thats the way it was — He was buried in the Garfield Cemetery in the northwest corner by the road. [Evalee Combs Lasater & Stephen A. Douglas, Jr.]
The Fort Wayne Sentinel, Fort Wayne, Indiana - Monday - July 08, 1895
Broke Away On The ScaffoldSpringfield, MO., June 16, Carroll M. Rice, wife murderer, was hanged at Alton, Oregon county. Just before the black cap was adjusted, and while his legs were being pinioned, the condemned man broke away from the sheriff and attempted to escape. He was recaptured and quickly hanged. Before dying he addressed the 4,000 people present, saying that he hoped to meet them in a better world.
Children of Sarah E. Allison and Carroll Monroe 'Hog' Rice
Mary A. Rice
--b. June 1887 Jobe Township, Oregon Co., Missouri
Cinthia E. Rice
--b. March 1889 Jobe Township, Oregon Co., Missouri
David G. Rice
--b. Deceber 1890 Jobe Township, Oregon Co., Missouri
