Editor’s note: This is Part 2 of Richland History Group’s three-part series on Casper Carlisle, the Battle of Gettysburg Medal of Honor winner.Read Part 1 here.
Please say it ain’t so! The Richland History Group cannot. No one relishes unexpected hero negativity, but be prepared for some below.
Just-discovered 1886 newspaper articles (New York Times, Pittsburgh Daily Post and Pittsburgh Commercial Gazette) have necessitated a last-minute, 100% rewriting of this article, the second installment of our look at the sad life of Casper Richard Carlisle (1841-1908), Richland’s most famous unknown.
I’ll address my recent discovery here. A third installment in March will wrap up our hero’s life story with good news (his financial, his failures with women and family, his burial as an unknown pauper, etc.).
It was a warm Tuesday afternoon (Aug. 3, 1886) in Pittsburgh’s Market Square. Just outside 106 Second Ave., “an eye sore for two years past,” a “well-known character named May Johnston” was at it again, “becoming incensed at a neighbor of irreproachable character, assaulting her and “shamefully beating her.”
Such behavior by 21-year old May was not unexpected, as she had 1) “led a fast life in various Union cities” since age 16; 2) “served several terms for drunkenness and disorderly conduct at the Workhouse; and 3) used, for five previous years, various aliases, including May Blossom and Mamio Bulger.” Her favorite, though, was May Johnston. My research into her 1916 death surprisingly confirmed that her 1889 marriage to a Mr. “Malarkey” was not a joke.
The attacked woman apparently “swore out an information” (complaint) against May in the Mayor’s Office. Neighbors reported that two hours “before the real trouble started” at 10 p.m., May’s mother “insisted she live at home and compelled her to leave the house.” They also reported “hearing screams of ‘help’ and cries of ‘murder’ all night from the disorderly house.”
Around 10 p.m., five Pittsburgh police officers arrived, seeking to enter 106 Second Ave. and peacefully arrest May (“the man’s wife or mistress”), but “all of the entrances, other than two, small, rear basement windows, were barred securely.”
Violent assault
Hearing no response to police demands that the door be opened, Lt. Foster forced open one such basement window and stuck his head through it. The lieutenant was “immediately seized by his coat and at the same time violently hit four times with a heavy poker iron, cutting gashes across his head, laying the scalp open 3-4 inches to the bone.” Then, the man, assisted by the woman, pulled Foster inside. “They beat him with clubs until he was senseless.” His left arm “sustained a compound fracture.”
A second newspaper account differed slightly.
“Officer Mike Carr and Lt. Foster attempted to enter different rear windows at the same time. The man stood inside one window with a mace (a blunt fighting weapon with a heavy head) taken from Foster. Mrs. Johnston stood at the other with a big club. The other women were armed with pokers.”
Attempting to help Foster, Pittsburgh police Chief Blackmore’s clerk, Witten, “started through the cellar window but fared even worse.” The man had taken Foster’s mace, bludgeoned Witten “with a blow to the head,” pulled him inside, badly cut his right hand (“likely with a knife”), “cut him about the head and face” and dealt him a “kicking that doctors felt would be fatal.” “In a frightful manner, Witten lost consciousness and was taken to the station, where Dr. Mereur felt “his injuries were so serious that immediate removal to Mercy Hospital was prudent.”
Officer Carr received five scalp wounds “in depth to the bone, the shortest being not less than two inches,” but did not lose consciousness. “This saved his life, for the inmates had grown desperate, uttering fearful oaths and calling loudly upon one another to hit harder and spare no effort to kill the officers.”
Officer Tomer was hit in the “forehead just as his head appeared above the basement windowsill.” He somehow made his way in but was “knocked backwards in the cellar, receiving severe bruises.”
Officer Balz was “clubbed about the head but fared much better than the others.” He was able to raise his gun, aiming it “directly at the man.” Just before squeezing the trigger, “someone threw an arm around his neck” and yelled, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot my father!” It was “a little nine-year old girl.” Balz released his pressure on the trigger. “That saved the man,” Balz reported to the press. “If it hadn’t been for that little one, I would have fired.”
By this time (approximately 11 p.m.), “word had spread” and a “police squad arrived double quick at the house to assist their fallen brethren.” They were no longer peaceful, breaking through the door and “overpowering the inmates (one man and three women), who “had crowded themselves into a corner to the last.” “The man was used (beaten) not very gently and was bleeding profusely” after his arrest. All four were locked up. Chief Blackmore said just before midnight that “he would make additional charges (specifically assault with intent to kill) against the inmates on Wednesday morning.” On Aug. 4, the little girl was taken by the Humane Society and given to the Children’s Aid Society, who intended to place her “in the care of her grandmother living in Allegheny.”
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It was “claimed that the police had no warrant to raid, and consequently, no right to force entrance into the man’s house.” I suspect this claim was made by the four arrested or their counsel. On Aug. 4, Chief Blackmore said, “I believe the neighbors filed an information (complaint), but am not positive about that.” He added, however, that Lt. Foster and Clerk Witten would “not have authorized a raid without cause.” The chief felt that “hearing cries for ‘help’ and ‘murder’ from the house” constituted ample cause. He would “thoroughly investigate as soon as his injured officers got better.” I am diligently seeking additional 1886 newspaper information about the above, but, as of this writing, I have yet to be successful.
Family ties
“May Johnston” was really Sarah (Sallie, Saddie, Sadie) Carlisle (1865-1906), Casper Carlisle’s and Margaret W. Rush’s (1935-1906) first daughter, not Casper’s “wife” or “mistress,” as originally erroneously reported by the press. The 9-year-old was Ella (born in 1877, almost certainly not to Margaret Rush), Casper’s youngest daughter. Sadly, “the man” was our hero, Richland’s most famous, never mind mysterious, unknown.
If nothing else, one must admit that poor Casper was loyal to his daughter and learned well how to apply his Civil War fighting skills. In fact, notwithstanding the gruesomeness of what he did and not trying to justify it, I suspect most readers of this account would likely want a warrior like Carlisle on their side, should they ever be in a life-and-death brawl.
Stay tuned for next month’s final installment, in which I will attempt to make sense of our hero’s sordid escapade and the rest of his sad life.