People have been thinkin’ and talkin’ lately a good deal about the Staten Island murderer, Rheinhart, and this reminds me that a celebrated and mysterious murder occurred on Staten Island, some thirty or so years ago. I mean what is remembered by old New Yorkers still as the Polly Bodine murder.
This Polly Bodine murder still holds its own as one of the most remarkable cases of circumstantial evidence of which there is any record. It caused a tremendous excitement a generation ago, swallowed up all other topics of talk at the time, and was altogether “a celebrated case.”
Mrs. Polly Bodine lived with her folks around Staten Island, and was in New York a good deal. She had a sister-in-law, a Mrs. Emmeline Houseman, whose husband was away from her a good deal, bein’ connected with sailin’ vessels, and who, every now and then, brought home a pretty large sum of money, which he was in the habit of keepin’ sometimes at his own house sometimes at the house of Polly Bodine’s parents, which was near his own.
One time quite a large sum of money, over a thousand dollars, was brought home by this man Houseman, who showed it round pretty freely in New York, and then took it, first to his own house, and then to the house where Polly Bodine lived with her parents. Only one or two people knew of the money havin’ been taken from Houseman’s home to Polly Bodine’s home, and it was generally thought to be in the former place.
One Saturday night, just before Christmas, Polly Bodine went over to her sister-in-law Mrs Houseman’s place, and slept with her, Mr. Houseman bein’ away that night. On Sunday Polly came back to her parents’ house, and stayed there Sunday night. On Monday she was missin’, and on Monday night the house of Mrs. Houseman was set on fire, and the dead bodies of Mrs. Houseman and her child were found after the fire, bearin’ the marks of havin’ been killed by violence.
Of course there was a great time over the fire and over the dead bodies, and Polly Bodine was suspected of bein’ the party who killed the two and set fire to the house, her motive bein’ to get the thousand dollars, which she didn’t know had been taken from Houseman’s place to her parents’ house for safekeepin’.
It was stated that Polly, or a woman as like her as one pea is to another, had been seen in New York, pawning a watch and chain and some spoons that were missin’ from Houseman’s place after the fire, and altogether it was held that there was plenty of ground for Polly bein’ arrested, as I believe there was.
It was held by police enemies–and she had plenty of ‘em, chiefly women–and by those who believed her to be guilty, that she had always been shiftless, and often “hard up.” This was proved beyond a doubt by the testimony of Simpson, the pawnbroker. John R. Simpson swore that once Polly Bodine had pawned at his store a pair of pants for fifty cents; then, at another time, eight tins and a brass kettle for $3; then a silver lever watch; and another time a sheet, a towel, and a vest; then came then some buckets, and once some books. So that, bein’ thus hard up, iit was taken for granted that hearin’ of the thousand dollars, she killed her sister-in-law and her child to obtain it, but, of course, didn’t get it, only getting the few things she pawned the next mornin’.
Polly’s family, who stuck to her, and her lawyers, took the ground, however, that Polly couldn’t have killed her sister-in-law for the thousand dollars because she must have been one of the few who knew that the money wasn’t at Mrs. Houseman’s place, but had been taken to her own house. They also took the ground that the woman who pawned the watch and the chain and spoons in New York wasn’t really Polly, but a woman that looked like her–a case of mistaken identity, they called it. They held that if Polly had killed her sister-in-law at all it must have been on Saturday night when she slept with her, thus taking all the chances of the murdered bodies bein’ found Sunday or Monday, before the house was burned on Monday night. They also accounted for Polly’s not being willin’ to account for her whereabouts on Monday by the fact that she had been too intimate with a male neighbor, and had temporarily disappeared to hide, or get rid of, her shame.
Those who held that Polly had not committed the murder took the ground that the murder and the fire afterwards were done by some hard-lookin’ men, or by a man and a woman, who were seen lurkin’ near the Houseman place before the catastrophe; while those who thought Polly was guilty went so far as to accuse her father and mother of bein’ in the plot with her to get the thousand dollars for ‘emselves. Then it was proved that Polly’s old parents were first at the fire, tryin’ to put it out; but this was said to be only a “blind” to put the public off their track. Some people even went beyond all this, and were willin’ to swear almost that Houseman himself had put up this job on his own wife to get her out of the way.
Polly’s first trial took place at Richmond, Staten Island. It attracted great attention, and people came from far and near to attend it.
In those days, not havin’ the telegraph to help ‘em, the New York papers used what they called the “pony express” to bring ‘em the news. After the judge had charged the jury, the pony riders waited from six o’clock in the evening till one o’clock at night, to get the verdict, waitin’ all the time on the backs of their ponies, prepared to start off at a minute’s notice. But, after all this preparation, the jury stayed out all night, and the pony riders carried back no news, after all.
Among the people who stayed all night in the court room, “waitin’ for the verdict,” was an old woman, a neighbor of Polly Bodine, who had quarreled with her years ago about a cow, and had never forgiven or forgotten that cow. This old woman kept sayin’ all the time that she was certain that Polly had done the murder, and that she would like to hear her found guilty. So, lest she should lose this pleasant sound, the old woman hung around the court all night, never sleeping a wink for fear she might not hear that pleasant word, “guilty.”
But the old woman wasn’t fated to hear that word just yet. The next day the jury sent word to the judge that they couldn’t agree. The jury stood eleven to one, eleven for guilty but the twelfth one (a Mr. Stone, a jeweler on Broadway then) had “conscientious” scruples. The judge, who wanted somethin’ done for the people’s money, try to get the “scruples” out of him; told him it was the judge’s part to take any responsibilities; it was only for the jury to decide on the facts. Then the judge tried the eatin’ and drinkin’ dodge on the jury, ordering ‘em in a good meal, thinkin’ perhaps, this would get the scruples out by puttin’ more material stuff in; but it didn’t. The twelfth juror was just as full of scruples after eating as before it, so the judge had no help for it, and discharged the jury. Polly Bodine was ordered back to prison and preparations were made for a new trial.
The second trial of Polly Bodine turned out to be “a couldn’t-agree party,” just like the first case, and then the trial was removed to New York, and the authorities were determined that this trial should be the last. The county couldn’t stand more than three trials of the same woman, innocent or guilty.
There never had been such throngs before as there were at the third trial of Polly Bodine in New York. The crowd at the trial was mostly composed of women–some women who were fashionably dressed, and came as if to a play or a free “murder matinee.”
The accused woman, all through her three long trials, was pale as a ghost and almost as quiet as a corpse. She never said a word, except to her lawyers, and she seemed more like a waxwork figure than a woman.
After a while she got in the habit of wearin’ a long black veil, to hide her face, and this made the ladies at the trial mad. The men, on the other hand, felt inclined to have some pity on the poor creature, who was bein’ three times tried for her life.
The judge’s charge at this third trial was a “corker.” It was the first great case Judge Edmonds had presided at, and everybody was curious to see how he would handle the case. He charged the jury that there were some forty points in the evidence on which they must make up their minds, one way or the other, and that each of the forty points were highly important, some of ‘em vital. Imagine a jury of ordinary men, picked up here and there, helter-skelter, like most juries are, but forced to weigh in their own minds forty points, each of the forty havin’ a human life at stake. No wonder one of the jurymen complained of “a constant headache.”
Were Mrs. Houseman and her child killed by violence? Was the fire accidental or the work of incendiaries? Was Mrs. H. killed on Saturday night, or Sunday, or Monday? Where was the prisoner on Monday night? Was it the prisoner or not who pawned the watch and spoons in New York? Who was the woman to whom the mysterious man was seen talkin’ near Houseman’s place just before the fire and the discovery of the dead bodies? Had Polly Bodine, supposin’ her to be the murderess, any accomplices? Was Polly in her sane mind, or had her troubles and her love scrapes affected her mind? Did or did not Polly Bodine know of the $1,000 havin’ been removed from Houseman’s place to her own parents’ house? Those were some of the forty points that the judge told the jury they were sworn to settle in their own minds before they decided on the guilt or innocence of the accused.
No wonder that the jury, with those forty points to settle, stayed out in the jury-room for two nights. I wouldn’t have wondered if they had stayed out two months. The first night the jury were out they tried to get asleep, but didn’t succeed. One of the jury said afterwards that instead of tryin’ to balance the testimony he was tryin’ to balance himself on a chair. The jury were hungry, too, as well as sleepy, and an empty stomach don’t make a clear brain. On the second night the jury, it is true, were provided with lounges to sleep on. They were also given a decent meal; but still the mischief had been done, and the jury were mad.
Durin’ the two nights that the jury were out, the prisoner, on whose fate they were debating, was sent for from her prison several times, to hear the judge answer the jury on some questions they submitted to him. She looked pale as a corpse, and worn out, but no one could ever have told, by the expression of her face, whether she was innocent or guilty. The officers round the court called her the “Sphinx,” she was so mysterious. The men who remained in the court room those two nights, waiting for the jury to make up their minds, all pitied this poor, pale-faced, mysterious woman. But there was one person in the court room those two nights who didn’t pity her at all, but gloated over her agony. It was the woman of the cow. And the only time that Polly Bodine trembled or shivered, or showed any visible signs of feeling’, was when she met face to face with, and looked into the eyes of, this woman of the cow. Then Polly Bodine seemed to feel her doom was sealed.
And so it was. The jury came out, at last, and pronounced her “guilty.”
And right in the midst of the stillness that fell upon the court room at the renderin’ of the verdict, a woman’s voice was heard to cry, “Hurrah!”
It was the voice of Polly Bodine’s old enemy, the woman of the cow.
But the cow woman “hurrahed” too soon, anyway, for the counsel of Polly Bodine got her a fourth trial after all, in which the jury disagreed, as they did the first two. Polly was finally released, and is said to be still livin’.
[Editor’s notes: Other bloggers have some interesting sidenotes on Polly Bodine. Boroughs of the Dead has a post that points out that Edgar Allen Poe reported on her trials for a New York newspaper. A Bookish Wonderland (podcast/blog) has more details on Polly’s fate:
The State Supreme Court invalidated the 1845 Manhattan verdict of guilty, agreeing to 27 of 29 exceptions brought by the defense, and ordered a retrial. For the Manhattan retrial, six thousand potential jurors were called in New York County; four thousand were interviewed; and ten, that is 10, were found to be unbiased.
There would be no second Manhattan trial, just as there had been no second Staten Island trial. A second change of venire was ordered for what was now the fifth jury call to hear the Polly Bodine Murder Case, this time in Newburgh, Orange County, New York. In April of 1846, the Orange County jury was set to hear the case against the accused murderess.
The Newburgh, New York jury in April of 1846, came up with an unequivocal and very fast answer to the question of the guilt or innocence of Polly Bodine: Innocent.
The remaining charges were dropped and Mary Housman Bodine, known as Polly, was set free after two and a half years in jail facing the gallows. She returned home to Staten Island where she set up housekeeping with her two children, supporting her family as a nurse. She died either in May or July 27, 1892. I keep finding different dates for this day.
Early next year (2024) a book on Polly by Alex Hortis is scheduled to be published, The Witch of New York.]
