 |
| No one was particularly surprised when they leaned Earl Throst was the killer. |
A little schoolhouse hidden away in the lonely hills near Dorchester, Iowa, witnessed a brutal murder nearly 100 years ago.
The Bergen School was run by a pretty
22-year-old girl named Inga Magnusson (spelled Magnuson in the original
reports). She lived with her parents in Houston County, Minnesota, about a
half-mile across the border from the schoolhouse.
Inga graduated from Spring Grove High School
in Minnesota, then attended classes at Upper Iowa University in Fayette. After
graduation, she taught at several schools before settling in at the Bergen
School.
Magnus Magnusson got worried when his
daughter didn’t come home from school at the usual time. He walked to the
school to look for her, but the door was locked, so he assumed she had gone
home with one of her students. A few hours later, he panicked and phoned
neighbors to find out if they’d seen her.
Finally, Magnus tired of waiting and
returned to the schoolhouse with his sons, Ben and Morken Magnusson. They broke
the door down and began a thorough search of the building.
Inga’s body was found lying in a pool of
blood in the basement near the furnace. Her head had been bashed in, most
likely with a stick of firewood.
From what they could tell, Inga had been
pulled down the stairs. The basement was in disarray, and blood was everywhere,
so they knew she had struggled with her attacker.
The chase
As soon as Deputy I. E. Woodmansee got word
of the murder, he phoned Waterloo to have former sheriff F. M. Shores’
bloodhounds sent down. Shores’ dogs were famous throughout the region and had
helped solve many high-profile crimes. Shores advertised that his dogs were
“getting some splendid results and have put more criminals behind bars than any
bloodhounds in the north.”
The bloodhounds were brought to the
schoolhouse where Inga Magnusson was killed, then given the scent from a piece
of firewood detectives suspected had been used to kill the schoolmarm.
The dogs led pursuers about two miles to the
farm of Earl Throst.
No one was home, but the sheriff’s posse
found a note from Throst’s parents pinned to the door, saying they had gone to
Caledonia. It urged him to stay home until they returned.
The deputies broke down the door. Inside,
they found a bloodstained pair of overalls in one of the bedrooms.
They gave the hounds the scent again. This
time the dogs took them to the Danielson farm just across the state line in
Minnesota. The owner reported someone had stolen a horse from his barn the
previous night and a saddle from his neighbor’s farm.
Throst was riding the horse he’d stolen from
the Danielson farm and had the key to the schoolhouse in his pocket. His shirt
sleeve was covered with blood. Throst explained the blood, saying he’d been
rabbit hunting, but Marshall Bellows knew better.
The killer makes a full
confession
At first, Throst was a brick wall. He
refused to say anything. But when Deputy Woodmansee dropped his bloody overalls
and the girl’s hat on his lap, he knew the game was up.
Earl Throst broke down and confessed to
everything.
“I had been going with
her for quite a while, and then Otto Beer [Otto Deters] talked her out of it.
“Of course, he made it as
bad for me as he could. If this thing had not happened, we were to have been
married next Saturday—December 17.
“I couldn’t sleep Sunday
night and spent most of the night walking around the vicinity of Dorchester,” continued Throst. “I
went to the schoolhouse late Monday afternoon. The children had all gone home,
and Inga was alone.
“We quarreled in the
schoolroom. She went into the basement to fix the fire for the night. I
followed, and we quarreled again.
“I picked up a stick and
struck her over the head. She turned around again, and I hit her two or three
times. She did not fight back.”[2]
“I
asked him if she struggled much,” said Deputy Sheriff Woodmansee. Throst smiled,
then added, “she didn’t have a chance.”[3]
No one was particularly surprised when they
learned Earl Throst was the killer. He was a strange, queer-looking little man
with long, unkempt hair. Most people described him as not too bright or
mentally defective.
One of Inga’s friends laughed when she heard
that Throst said they were engaged. She told reporters the relationship was all
in Throst’s head. Inga “wouldn’t have had anything to do with a man like him.[4]
Inga Magnusson and Earl Throst went to
school together as kids and were passing acquaintances at best afterward. She
had him physically removed from the schoolhouse two weeks before because of his
noisy, obnoxious behavior. So, it was apparent Inga wanted nothing to do with
him.
Like all old-time papers, the Des Moines
Register told readers, Inga “was saved from a worse fate by the sacrifice
of her life.”[5]
Better dead than molested.
Trial
The trial was short and sweet. Because
Throst pleaded guilty, the only question was whether he was competent to stand
trial. If so, the jury needed to affix his punishment.
Throst’s attorney, Burt Hendrick, contended
that his client was mentally ill and not responsible for his actions. He never
had any friends, and ever since he was a kid, everyone made fun of him for
being mentally defective or slow. And no, Throst never had a relationship with
Inga Magnusson. It was one of his many hallucinations or delusions.
A doctor testified that Throst suffered from
dementia praecox or schizophrenia. However, the jury ignored the testimony and
found him guilty of murder. They recommended the death penalty.
The judge sentenced Earl Throst to hang on
March 2, 1923.
A reporter for the Des Moines Register
visited Throst at the Fort Madison Penitentiary in February 1922. “With his
tortoise-rimmed spectacles, he appeared rather a student than a beast—until you
looked into his light blue eyes, expressionless eyes. Then you shuddered.”[6]
When asked if he was sorry for what he did,
Throst replied, “Oh, yes.”
“Are you sorrier for that or the death
sentence?”
Throst gave him a small smile, “It’s hard to
say.”[7]
Throst’s attorneys made a last-minute
attempt to have his sentence commuted. However, Governor Nathan Kendall denied
the request. He said that “throughout his entire life [Throst] was stupid,
lazy, thriftless, untruthful, obstinate and irritable.” He did not see any
reason to save him. There was no evidence to show that he didn’t know right
from wrong.[8]
Feast of the Merry Fools
The warden granted Earl Throst’s last wish,
a farewell banquet with his death-row friends.
Throst took his impending death well,
laughing and joking with his guests. Their motto for the night was, “Eat, drink
and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” And that they did. The Des Moines
Tribune dubbed it the “feast of the merry murderers.”[9]
The
men feasted on fried chicken, fried oysters, mashed potatoes and brown gravy,
and potato chips. The partygoers enjoyed cake, pie, ice cream, Jell-O, and all
the coffee they could drink for dessert.
When the party was over, Earl Throst thanked
his guests for attending.
“At sunrise, [Throst] walked out into the
rain and before a little group of drenched witnesses paid the penalty for
murdering Inga Magnuson, a schoolteacher.”[10] Sheriff Ben A. Davis
pulled the spring on the trap, sending Earl Throst plunging to his death.
Sheriff Gunda Martindale
 |
| Sheriff Gunda Martindale |
Ironically, although she played a tiny part in it, Gunda Martindale, the Allamakee CountySheriff, became the story’s hero. Martindale was the only woman sheriff in Iowa. Newspapers around the country recounted her daring adventures as she led her deputies through the Iowa-Minnesota wilderness.
An angry crowd gathered outside the Waukon
jail the night Throst was arrested. Authorities believed the mob might be
stirred to violence and take the law into their hands.
Papers made a big deal about Sheriff
Martindale fooling the crowd “by coming in the jail’s front door while her
deputies I. E. Woodmansee and Charles Hall took Throst in the back door and
locked him up.”
One New Jersey newspaper quoted Martindale
saying, “I have to spring the trap on Throst, and I’ll do my duty.”[11]
After the case had wrapped up, Martindale tried
to clear things up. She told reporters she didn’t take an active part in the
pursuit or capture. Instead, she staffed the desk in her office. But that
didn’t stop reporters from writing about her imaginary exploits.
[1]
Des Moines Register. December 14, 1921.
[2]
Des Moines Tribune. December 14, 1921.
[3]
Des Moines Register. March 6, 1923.
[4]
Des Moines Tribune. December 14, 1921.
[5]
Des Moines Register. December 18, 1921.
[6]
Des Moines Register. February 5, 1922.
[7]
Des Moines Register. February 5, 1922.
[8]
Des Moines Register. March 6, 1923.
[9]
Des Moines Tribune. March 9, 1923.
[10]
Anthony, Joseph. The Best News Stories of 1923. 1924. P. 87.
[11]
Courier-Post. December 28, 1921.
No comments:
Post a Comment