Cold Water Crossing: An Account Of The Murders At The Isles Of Shoals

This series of events happened on a cold winter evening when three women were unexpectedly left alone on Smuttynose Island, ten miles off the coast of Maine where it borders with New Hampshire. They were the only inhabitants of the small island.That night, the men of the family were unexpectedly detained in Portsmouth awaiting a shipment of bait. At the dock, their casual conversation was overheard, a killer saw an opportunity, and did the unthinkable. He rowed ten miles out to sea on a freezing night and committed murders that have become legend in New England crime annals. One woman survived the brutal assault and narrowly escaped his clutches as she hid among rocks. This is the frightening story of what happened the night of March 5, 1873 on a lonely coastal island and what followed in the days and months after.

PROLOGUE

In the early hours of March 6, 1873, two murders occurred ten miles off the coast of Maine under most unusual circumstances, so unusual that today, nearly one hundred thirty six years later, they remain the subject of controversy and debate. Some believe the evidence against the killer was largely circumstantial and contrived while others are convinced the series of events surrounding him left no doubt of his guilt.

Unfortunately, murders aren't uncommon in America. Most are soon forgotten; remembered only by family, friends and a select few who were directly involved, such as investigating officers. Some, though, leave a deep impression and aren't erased from public memory as easily. They touch a certain nerve, are remembered, discussed, argued over and written about long after the event occurs; the Lizzie Borden axe murders, Sacco- Vanzetti, Stanford White, Jack the Ripper, the Lindbergh kidnapping are examples of sensational crimes leaving questions still unanswered. Innocent or guilty? Framed or not? Fair trial or no ?

The murders on Smuttynose Island rank in that category. They are a part of the legend of the Isles of Shoals, a gleaming cluster of islands ten miles due east from the seaport town of Portsmouth, New Hampshire. They are peaceful, beautiful, remote and, some would say barren, especially in winter. For generations they were inhabited by hardy men and women who provided for their families with fish caught from the surrounding cold, deep waters of the Atlantic for there was little their infertile land could produce. Toward the latter part of the nineteenth century these families, many of Norwegian descent, were moving for the mainland as their islands became the forerunners of Atlantic coastal resorts. The short summer season brought many guests but when the grand hotels closed in September, the tiny archipelago became almost deserted and cut off from the rest of the world.

In 1873 barely sixty native inhabitants lived "out there" year round. Of the islands, nine in all, only three were inhabited, sustained by a supply boat making periodic runs from the mainland. More often, the fishermen themselves would sail the distance to shore for their supplies. This could take up to two hours in good weather but if the head tide and winds weren't right, it could take most of a day. Rowing to and from the mainland was not common. Few would attempt it in the dead of winter under harsh conditions except for one man, a killer whose motives and actions defied logic; who brutally murdered two innocent women staying alone on one of the islands.

The Norwegian inhabitants, called shoalers, were peaceful, kind and gentle, admired and respected by those who knew them. In 1873, they were witnessing the end of one era and the beginning of another since cod fishing was becoming an increasingly difficult way to make a living. Few were successful since that area of the Atlantic, north to Newfoundland had been over fished for years by both the locals and commercial fishing boats from Europe. The demise of one industry, however, saw the beginning of another as men like Tom Laighton and John Poor saw good investment opportunities there. Toward the end of the century, they built large hotels, among the first on the Atlantic coast, and the islands were emerging as a place of summer vacation resorts for the well to do. The Atlantic House, The Appledore House and The Oceanic were either open for business or under construction in 1873 providing first class accommodations to those who could afford that privilege. It was a time of change and the contrasts were stark between the struggling fishermen and the splendor of Victorian style hotels whose celebrity guests presaged an end to a way of life. In addition to wealthy vacationers, the islands in 1873 were inhabited by temporary construction workers who were known to the fishermen and their families.

The vibrancy of summer always surrendered too quickly to the bleakness, cold and desolation of winter when gale winds could reach near hurricane force and the permanent residents would hunker down to await the arrival of spring. For four to five months, existence was severe and isolated.

A confluence of events beginning on March 5th, resulted in the murders of two women and brought national attention to the small community. By mid day of Thursday, the 6th, word reached Portsmouth police that an atrocity had taken place on one of the islands, called Smuttynose. A group of fishermen from the Isles were dazed with disbelief and rambling in heavily accented English when they broke the news to authorities. Two of their own were brutally murdered. The killer could still be out there on the small cluster of islands or he had somehow made it back to Portsmouth in a dory on a very cold night. He had to be caught and, what's more, they knew who did it. Police Chief Thomas Entwhistle calmed the men down and slowly began to piece their story together.