CHAPTER LIV.
BILL WHITE, A CANADA CROOK, AND “HANDSOME” LARNIGAN ARRIVE IN DENVER—A HEAVY ROBBERY AT THE BROADWELL HOUSE TRACED TO THEIR DOORS BY GEN. COOK—THEY ESCAPE JAIL AND WHITE LEAVES FOR PUEBLO, WHERE HE ENGAGES IN WHOLESALE THIEVING.
Bill White’s career in Colorado was brief. It was cut short by an accident which he could not control. Bill made his advent in Denver in the spring of 1872, and he might have been here yet if he had behaved himself properly, and to the fact that he did not deport himself well is the origin of the pictures herewith presented due, and if used as a pair of chromos might be called, and not inaptly, “Before and After Taking.” He came from Chicago to Denver, but was originally from Montreal and was a well known Canada crook.
A great many of the Denver people were away from home when White made his advent into our society. They were attending a jollification at Pueblo which followed the completion of the Denver and Rio Grande road to that point. Many of the officers were absent, and White conceived it an excellent opportunity to get in his work. He had come to Denver from Canada, and was accompanied by a Kansas City man named Larnigan, who was known throughout the Missouri valley as “Handsome” Larnigan. They put up at the Broadwell house, a hotel kept in what is now known simply as the Broadwell block, on Larimer street, back of the Tabor block, and there began to ply their game. White’s role was that, of the invalid. He put plasters and liver pads all over him, and affected the Camille cough. He was a man of good appearance, and never had the least difficulty in winning the good will of people with whom he came in contact. Hence it was that when it came to be known that, on the night when so many were absent at Pueblo on pleasure, a boarder at the hotel had been robbed of a very fine watch valued at $700 and $300 in currency, no one suspected White, until Gen. D. J. Cook, of the Rocky Mountain Detective Agency, was consulted, and had spotted him and Larnigan as the thieves.
When the case was put in Cook’s hands he went to work without a clue, but in less than a day had satisfied himself that the guilt lay with these men. He accordingly proceeded to arrest the pair and to lock them up. But they had observed the attention that the detective was paying to their movements, and had “unloaded” when they were taken. The crime could not be proved against them, although Gen. Cook was satisfied of their guilt, and he was compelled to let them go. He, however, warned them that they must get out of town. “I know you are crooks,” he said to them, “and although I have failed now, it is only a matter of time when I shall get you if you stay here. So you had better skip.” They were liberated after this warning. White concluded to take Gen. Cook’s advice and to leave town, but Larnigan remained behind.
White went from Denver to Pueblo, and was not long in justifying Gen. Cook’s prophesy that he would get into trouble. Arriving in Pueblo, White took rooms at the National, the best hotel of the place, and was soon as familiar with the people there as he had been with those in Denver. He was a man of slight stature, and he played the invalid dodge there just as he had done in Denver. He put himself on good terms with the ladies, many of whom about the hotel had been anxious to do whatever they could do for “the poor fellow.” He was invited to the rooms of individuals in the hotel, and in fact was the pet of the house. Mr. White was thought to be anything else besides a thief. He had told the good people that his father had been a minister of the gospel in Canada, and he carried a gilt-edged Bible, the parting gift of his dear mother, he said.
When out with the boys, however, White was a very different sort of fellow. He was one of them. He appeared to be of a very affectionate and confiding disposition, but the most striking peculiarity about the young man was that he always appeared to be thoroughly and completely drunk. We say appeared to be, for with all our inquiries, we have yet to find the first one who actually saw him take a drink. Be this as it may, to the outsider the young man went to bed drunk at night, and got up drunk in the morning. He staggered at 9 o’clock. He clung to the telegraph pole at 10 o’clock. He rolled in the gutter at 12, and would be carted off to his room, blubbering meanwhile to those who towed along his worthless carcass, and telling how much he loved them. After the Pueblo robbery it was suspected that the young man had been “playing it on the boys.” It was then believed that he was not as drunk as he had pretended to be.
One morning it was discovered that during the previous night several rooms in the hotel had been entered and robbed of sums of money ranging all the way from five cents to $300, and of numerous watches and other valuable articles. It was ascertained that at about 2 o’clock the night previous some audacious thief had entered a bedroom containing two beds, in which reposed Gen. R. M. Stevenson, B. C. Leonard, one of the proprietors of the hotel, George Schick, and another man sleeping with Stevenson, whose name is unknown. In accordance with the usual custom, the door of the room had been left unlocked, and the burglar had an easy job, going through the sleepers in detail. Schick upon retiring had placed his clothes under the pillow. In his pocket ticked a gold repeater of exquisite workmanship, worth, with the chain, at least $300, while in the fob pocket of his pantaloons were two $100 bills. When he awoke in the morning he found his clothes precisely as he had placed them, not disturbed in the least, but his watch and money were gone. His exclamation of surprise awoke the others, and they commenced searching with varying results. Leonard found himself out a five-cent nickel and a few pool checks. Gen. Stevenson missed between four and five dollars in currency, while his room mate bewailed the loss of $15. Messrs. John and Cal. Peabody, who occupied a room over Jordan’s store, in the Conley block, were the next victims. The door of their room was locked, with the key inside, but the cracksmen turned this by means of nippers and walked in. Cal’s pocketbook, containing $142 in cash, was soon rifled, and a watch and chain, belonging to John Peabody, of no great value, taken. The pocketbook was found on the street corner in the morning, with nothing inside but a few papers. The room adjoining Mr. Peabody’s was occupied by Mrs. Snyder, a milliner, and the thief was ungallant enough to enter this and rob the slumbering lady of her gold watch and chain, valued at $125. Mr. George Perkins, a furniture dealer, was also visited and robbed of a watch and $300 in money.
Of course, the town was in an uproar, for Pueblo was not then so pretentious a place as it now is, and it did not take so long for news to travel all over the city. Officers were put to work. In a few hours the fact was developed that White, the popular invalid, was nowhere to be found. Zach Allen—who has since been killed, poor fellow!—was then sheriff of Pueblo county, and he became convinced that White had been guilty of the robbery. When he let a few words drop to that effect the announcement was met with loud protestations on the part of the ladies. They pooh-poohed the idea. Yet evidence accumulated to fasten the guilt upon White, and Allen determined to arrest him. But where to find him? That was the important question. He was not in Pueblo; that was certain. Mr. Allen decided to send the following telegram:
To D. J. Cook, Superintendent Rocky Mountain Detective Association, Denver:
Be on lookout for man named White, who has stolen watches and other valuables. Has a friend in Denver named Larnigan.
(Signed)ALLEN, Sheriff.