Holcomb, Kansas, a mere 70 miles from the Colorado
border, was a small town born near railroad tracks that ran
through the western wheat plains. Incorporated in 1909,
it was named for a local rancher, D. C. Holcomb. A sugar beet
processing plant provided much of the local employment. Further
growth soon brought a new U. S. Post Office to town, followed in
1912 by the establishment of the Holcomb State Bank at the corner
of Main Street and Douglas Avenue.
Like residents of so many other small farm communities that
dotted the Midwestern states, Holcomb’s citizens took great pride in
their heritage. Most lived according to the Christian faith, building a
strong tradition of deep family ties and good, hard, honest work. The
town was thriving by 1949 - but with just 270 residents, it was still
barely on the map.
Soon, wheat farming and cattle ranching were playing a major
role in keeping Holcomb afloat. With new prosperity came several
churches, a hardware store, a market, and Bess Hartman’s cafe. The
Hartman Cafe quickly became a meeting place for locals. It wasn’t
much – just four small tables and a counter that developed worn and
rounded edges over the years from the regulars pushing up against it.
You could smell the freshly brewed coffee as soon as you walked
in. That, plus soft drinks, sandwiches, and 3.2 beer were pretty much
the whole menu, and it never changed. At the Hartman Cafe, you’d
sit and sip and hear the local gossip. It was simple, innocent, small-
town America. Crime was almost nonexistent.
The bank had been robbed, of course. In fact, it happened twice
– in 1917 and again in 1930. Both times, the notorious Fleagle gang
was responsible. Brothers Ralph, Fred, Little Jake and Walter got
$1500 the first time, but the amount of their second take has been
lost to antiquity. They were outsiders, and most people who resided
in Holcomb knew and trusted one another. During their evening
walks, windows were left open, and doors remained unlocked. Life in
Holcomb was good.
On a cold November night in 1959, everything changed. Like a
biting winter wind sweeping across the prairie, evil in its very darkest
form invaded the peaceful little town under a Kansas moon,
spreading horror and terror the likes of which could not have been
imagined even one day before.
That fateful night, four members of Holcomb’s most beloved
family – the Clutters - were brutally murdered.
The Clutter Family Herbert Clutter was a highly respected community leader. In
1954, he’d been appointed by President Dwight D. Eisenhower to
serve on the Federal Farm Credit Board, and he was the founder of
the Kansas Association of Wheat Growers. He’d been the President of
the National Wheat Growers Association, a Sunday school teacher,
and the successful owner and operator of River Valley Farms.
“Herb” Clutter, his wife Bonnie Mae, daughter Nancy Mae, and
young Kenyon Neal Clutter were known to be kind and gentle folk,
loved and respected by their neighbors. Within hours, the horrible
news had spread like a flood and genuine fear gripped the people.
Doors that normally stood open were now shut and windows were
latched tight. Suspicion ran wild. Local and national media were
converging on the town, hungry for information. Life as residents had
known it was suddenly lost forever.
The cold-blooded killings were a shock to America’s national
innocence regarding such matters. Until then, it had been accepted
as gospel that such things happened in large cities and densely
populated areas. Now, the worst of the worst had come to little
Holcomb, Kansas. There was no way to process an event of that
magnitude without having a basis for comparison, and none existed.
The country now had to accept a new reality – that unspeakable evil
could strike anywhere at any time, targeting even the innocent. The
murders changed everything, and they would have a long-lasting
impact.
The effect on Holcomb was profound. Those who viewed the
aftermath of the slaughter found that details replayed in their minds
like a film they couldn’t stop watching. Because of the sheer violence
and brutality of the killings, the Clutter murder scene would go down
in history as one of the worst in the history of both Kansas and the
United States. Now, decades later, people all over the world can view
for themselves what the cameras’ lenses captured and form their own
thoughts. The macabre images, preserved for all time, leave an
inescapable message for all who choose to look: It could happen to
you.
After a two-month-long nationwide manhunt by agents of the
Kansas Bureau of Investigation and the FBI, the suspected killers of
the four Clutter family members were finally apprehended. They had
fled across the country and slipped into Mexico, only to return to Las
Vegas and be captured there. Now the state of Kansas was prepared
to see that justice was done. And in the minds of most that meant -
after a trial - death by hanging.
The crime and the subsequent trial would be described in great
detail by author Truman Capote in his non-fiction novel In Cold
Blood. It covered the quadruple murders and the capture and trials
of the accused and went on to become one of the greatest non-fiction
books of modern times, selling more than a million hard copies and
over 11 million more copies in paperback. In Cold Blood was
published in 32 languages and sold well around the world, with over
700,000 copies purchased in Germany alone.
We’ll dig deeper here, unearthing new information about the five
years convicted killers Richard “Dick” Hickock and Perry Edward
Smith spent on death row trying to appeal their convictions. The
book is based on our research at the Kansas Historical Society’s state
archives, Kansas State Penitentiary official records, and other related
historical documentation preserved for review.
Our story begins the morning of March 22, 1960, at the Finney
County Courthouse in Garden City, Kansas. The trial of Richard
Hickock and Perry Smith would be like none other held there since
it was built in 1928. It was the case that would put the town and the
state on the front pages of newspapers throughout the United States.
Garden City was the center of the action.
Barber shops, little cafes, hotels and other local businesses
accustomed to serving only locals were now overflowing with people
from all over Kansas and around the country. On the first morning
of the trial, the crowd in the courtroom included 150 potential jurors
and representatives of both regional and national news media. The
trial would be presided over by the honorary Judge Roland H. Tate.
There were only four women in the large jury pool: Mrs. Kathleen
Bruchy, Miss Amy Gillespie, Mrs. E. Mearl Hutton, and Violet
McElroy. None of them was chosen to serve.
Everyone who entered was checked by the Kansas State Police,
and once the space was filled to capacity the doors were closed and
then guarded. Inside, District Court Clerk Mae Purdy, in a loud,
commanding voice, called out the names of the twelve jurors and two
alternates. Each of them stood to be recognized and stepped forward.
Judge Tate laid out his rules: No smoking or standing in the aisles.
Seats designated for the press were to be used only by the press. No
cameras or recordings of any kind would be permitted. There would
be no interviews within the courtroom. And the proceedings would
be conducted in an orderly fashion.
At 10:04 AM, Richard Hickock was brought in, handcuffed to
Sheriff Wendle Meier. The defendant was dressed in brown trousers,
a white shirt with a brown tie and highly polished brown shoes, and
white socks. Moments later, Perry Smith arrived, similarly handcuffed
to Deputy Sheriff Micky Hawkins. With his coal black hair neatly
combed, the five-foot, three-inch Smith was dressed in blue
dungarees with the pants cuffs rolled up, a white shirt open at the
neck, and white socks and spit-shined black shoes.
Seated at the prosecution’s table was County Attorney Duane
West. A lifelong resident of Garden City, West had graduated from
Garden City High School and Washburn College. Assisting in the
prosecution would be Logan Green. Originally from Kentucky, he
had served as Finney County Attorney from 1935 to 1943.
At the defense table was Hickock's representative, Harrison
Smith. A local attorney, Smith had worked in the Finney County
court system for over ten years and was a graduate of the University
of Kansas Law School. He had served in the United States Navy and
was originally from Racine, Wisconsin. Perry Smith would be
represented by Arthur Fleming, a local Garden City resident and the
town’s former Mayor. He had also been President of the local school
board. Fleming had never attended college, but he had challenged the
Kansas Bar and was admitted on examination. Both attorneys were
court-appointed and paid $10.00 per day.
By the late afternoon of March 22, the twelve jurors were seated
and ready to hear the case. They were all local men and would be
charged with both determining guilt or innocence and deciding what
punishment would be meted out. The ones chosen were Pete Merrill,
a farmer; Otto Bader, a well water driller; Claude Harkness, a farmer.
William Turrentine, a farmer; Albert Shackleford, Jr., a gas pipeline
worker; Ralph McClung, a pharmacist; Dean Hart, a refining
company salesmen; Jacob Dechant, a farmer; Ray Shearmire, a
bowling alley manager; William Lewis, a nursery manager.
N.L.Dunnan, an airport manager; and W. P. Bryant, a farmer. Each
of them would be paid $5.00 per day and seven cents per mile for
driving to and from the courthouse.
In the gallery, Walter Hickock, father of Richard Hickock, was
heard to say he thought that the process of selecting the 12-person
jury had transpired very quickly. Many had expected it to take at least
two or three days.
Also among the spectators were Herbert Clutter’s brother Albert
and his wife. As he walked out, he told a reporter for the Garden City
Telegram that he came because he wanted to see the two men who
had murdered the members of his family. He went on to say, “My
attitude on this thing is awfully bad and I could tear them both
apart.”
Awaited by so many, this had long been publicized by
newspapers across Kansas as “The Clutter Mass Murder Trial”, and
now - finally - it was about to begin.
