(no subject)
Prior to 1911 there was a smattering of murders in the city of New Orleans, unsolved and ignored until May 23 1918 when Joseph and Catherine Maggio were found murdered in their bed. There were gashes in both of the victim's skulls and Catherine's throat had been cut nearly clean through with a straight razor. The murderer had entered the home through a panel in the kitchen door which he had chizzled through. Both an axe and the straight razor were left at the scene along with a pile of clothing. In following murders the killer left bare footprints of blood, and a wig as well as other strange indications of disguise.
Folowing this the words “Mrs. Joseph Maggio will sit up tonight. Just write Mrs. Toney” were found scrawled in the untidy writing of a school boy on the pavement. The clue led nowhere and the murders continued, focusing mainly on Italian grocers and their spouses. Not all of the victims died, but those who survived could only give vague almost fantastical descriptions of the indiscriminant killer. "Almost like he flew instead of walked." Came one description. "A tall black shadow." These almost vampric descriptions were compounded by a letter sent by the Axeman.
Dated, "Hell, March 13, 1919
Esteemed Mortal:
They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a fell demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman.
When I see fit, I shall come again and claim other victims. I alone know who they shall be. I shall leave no clue except my bloody axe, besmeared with the blood and brains of him whom I have sent below to keep me company.
If you wish you may tell the police not to rile me. Of course I am a reasonable spirit. I take no offense at the way they have conducted their investigation in the past. In fact, they have been so utterly stupid as to amuse not only me but His Satanic Majesty, Francis Josef, etc. But tell them to beware. Let them not try to discover what I am, for it were better that they were never born than to incur the wrath of the Axeman. I don't think there is any need of such a warning, for I feel sure the police will always dodge me, as they have in the past. They are wise and know how to keep away from all harm.
Undoubtedly, you Orleanians think of me as a most horrible murderer, which I am, but I could be much worse if I wanted to. If I wished, I could pay a visit to your city every night. At will I could slay thousands of your best citizens, for I am in close relationship to the Angel of Death.
Now, to be exact, at 12:15 (earthly time) on next Tuesday night, I am going to visit New Orleans again. In my infinite mercy, I am going to make a proposition to you people. Here it is:
I am very fond of jazz music, and I swear by all the devils in the nether regions that every person shall be spared in whose home a jazz band is in full swing at the time I have mentioned. If everyone has a jazz band going, well, then, so much the better for you people. One thing is certain and that is that some of those people who do not jazz it on Tuesday night (if there be any) will get the axe.
Well, as I am cold and crave the warmth of my native Tartarus, and as it is about time that I leave your earthly home, I will cease my discourse. Hoping that thou wilt publish this, and that it may go well with thee, I have been, am and will be the worst spirit that ever existed either in fact or realm of fantasy.
The Axeman
No one was killed that night. The entire city of New Orleans filled their homes with the dulcit sound of jazz. The Axeman did not answer the challenges sent to him and the city was relieved. There were a couple more murders in the city and then they ceased. The men detained were released, the danger was over. On December 2, 1919 however, Mrs. Pepitone the wife of one of the last victims shot Joseph Mumfre dead in Los Angeles. She claimed that she had seen the man kill her husband and that it was simply justice. To this day no one knows the true identity of the killer, and it remains one of New Orleans' many mysteries.
Folowing this the words “Mrs. Joseph Maggio will sit up tonight. Just write Mrs. Toney” were found scrawled in the untidy writing of a school boy on the pavement. The clue led nowhere and the murders continued, focusing mainly on Italian grocers and their spouses. Not all of the victims died, but those who survived could only give vague almost fantastical descriptions of the indiscriminant killer. "Almost like he flew instead of walked." Came one description. "A tall black shadow." These almost vampric descriptions were compounded by a letter sent by the Axeman.
Dated, "Hell, March 13, 1919
Esteemed Mortal:
They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a fell demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman.
When I see fit, I shall come again and claim other victims. I alone know who they shall be. I shall leave no clue except my bloody axe, besmeared with the blood and brains of him whom I have sent below to keep me company.
If you wish you may tell the police not to rile me. Of course I am a reasonable spirit. I take no offense at the way they have conducted their investigation in the past. In fact, they have been so utterly stupid as to amuse not only me but His Satanic Majesty, Francis Josef, etc. But tell them to beware. Let them not try to discover what I am, for it were better that they were never born than to incur the wrath of the Axeman. I don't think there is any need of such a warning, for I feel sure the police will always dodge me, as they have in the past. They are wise and know how to keep away from all harm.
Undoubtedly, you Orleanians think of me as a most horrible murderer, which I am, but I could be much worse if I wanted to. If I wished, I could pay a visit to your city every night. At will I could slay thousands of your best citizens, for I am in close relationship to the Angel of Death.
Now, to be exact, at 12:15 (earthly time) on next Tuesday night, I am going to visit New Orleans again. In my infinite mercy, I am going to make a proposition to you people. Here it is:
I am very fond of jazz music, and I swear by all the devils in the nether regions that every person shall be spared in whose home a jazz band is in full swing at the time I have mentioned. If everyone has a jazz band going, well, then, so much the better for you people. One thing is certain and that is that some of those people who do not jazz it on Tuesday night (if there be any) will get the axe.
Well, as I am cold and crave the warmth of my native Tartarus, and as it is about time that I leave your earthly home, I will cease my discourse. Hoping that thou wilt publish this, and that it may go well with thee, I have been, am and will be the worst spirit that ever existed either in fact or realm of fantasy.
The Axeman
No one was killed that night. The entire city of New Orleans filled their homes with the dulcit sound of jazz. The Axeman did not answer the challenges sent to him and the city was relieved. There were a couple more murders in the city and then they ceased. The men detained were released, the danger was over. On December 2, 1919 however, Mrs. Pepitone the wife of one of the last victims shot Joseph Mumfre dead in Los Angeles. She claimed that she had seen the man kill her husband and that it was simply justice. To this day no one knows the true identity of the killer, and it remains one of New Orleans' many mysteries.