CHAPTER X.
THE ITALIAN MURDERERS TELL THE STORY OF THE CRIME—A SERIES OF BLOOD-CURDLING NARRATIVES, INTERESTING ACCOUNTS FROM THE MOST PROMINENT OF THE BUTCHERS—GALLOTTI GIVES HIS VERSION—HOW THE MUSIC PLAYED WHILE THE THROATS WERE CUT—DRINKING THE BLOOD OF THE VICTIMS.
So prompt had been the retribution overtaking the band that the popular desire for revenge was in a measure appeased, and all seemed to be confident that the law would effectually dispose of the bloody crew. Before showing how the people were disappointed in this, and prior to relating the means by which these villains escaped the gallows, it would be interesting to visit the jail and, by conversing separately with the prisoners, ascertain so far as possible the manner by which the four victims came to their death. With the exception of Gallotti, they were all willing to talk of the affair.
The jailer leads the way to his cell. A dark-eyed man with the keen, cool, deadly look which only a murderer by birth and education could possess, rises to see who comes as the iron door swings open. He is rather a small man, but has a well-knit, compact frame, and evidently possesses considerable muscular activity and strength. His eyes are small and piercing and have a serpentine look. In this look can be found one of the reasons why he was able to absolutely control the band, to whom he was more than king or czar. Possessing some education, with an unbending will, a heart devoid of pity, a conscience knowing no regret and with those glittering eyes, transfixing the one who had dared to displease him, he was just what his ambition desired—the chief of a desperate band of banditti, whose pastimes were the cutting of throats and whose revels were in scenes of blood. He would not talk at length, but when it was suggested to him that “It is said that you were the leading spirit in that affair,” replied: “I am not. The others did the murder, and now are trying to drag me into it.”
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Arrest of Ballotti, Campagne and Allessandri at Trinidad, by Officers Smith and Force.
See [page 67].
So Gallotti will not talk. Let us visit Allessandri and get his story. This boy (for he is scarcely more than a boy) was the first to make any statement to the officers, and he can think or talk of nothing but the crime. He looks up as his cell is entered and readily answers all questions.
His story as he relates it, with great rapidity and constant gesticulation, is as follows: “The band consisted of Gallotti, Anatta, Ballotti, Campagne and a miner. I was forced to join them against my will, but was powerless to resist Gallotti. The killing commenced Friday, October 15, at half-past one o’clock p. m. I was playing a harp in the front room. The old man, called Joe in English, the biggest boy and one or two others were playing cards in the front room. The cards lay on a box and the players were seated around in a circle. Ballotti, Campagne and ‘the miner’ were playing, too. Gallotti, the boss tinker, was standing up and watching the game. Suddenly Gallotti reached under his coat, drew a knife, seized the old man by the hair, drew his head back and with one powerful stroke cut his throat from ear to ear. The blood flew upon the cards and into the faces of the other players. Not yet content, Gallotti stabbed the old man in several places and, releasing his hold, he let the lifeless body fall on the floor. At the same time the others seized the big boy who was sitting at my side playing the harp, but he made a desperate resistance and tried to fight them off.
“Seeing that the others were not very successful, Gallotti left old Joe’s body and, grabbing the boy, cut his throat, crying to me, ‘Play louder!’ In the struggle they all used knives, and Anatta cut his fingers so badly that when they ceased bleeding he could not close them.
“I kept on playing the harp, for I did not dare stop, and I was so frightened that I trembled violently. Once I stopped playing, but Gallotti shook me and, drawing his knife across my throat, told me he would cut my d—d head off if I did not play on. So I started up again.
“They let the bodies lay where they had fallen, and some one threw blankets over them. In about half an hour the other two came into the yard, carrying their harps. Gallotti watched the front door and Ballotti stood guard at the rear one. The smaller one came in first, carrying his violin under his arm. Gallotti seized him and, driving a knife to the hilt just under his right ear, cut the boy’s throat. The little boy who played the harp came up to the door and, catching a glimpse of the blood, attempted to retreat, but Silvestro seized him and dragged him into the house. As Silvestro did not succeed in cutting his throat very quickly, Anatta went to his aid. But the boy escaped them and ran, bleeding and crying, into the front room, where Gallotti caught him around the neck with one hand and, with the boy’s head under his arm, cut his throat from ear to ear.
“I was still playing on the harp, but the sight of dead bodies and the blood running on the floor made me sick. Filomeno made me lick his knife and ordered me to drink some of the blood. He scraped up a handful of blood running from the big boy’s throat and drank it, the others doing likewise, as a pledge of fidelity. They then threw the bodies into the cellar and commanded me to continue playing, as the music deadened the noise and would divert any suspicion that might be entertained. Some of the bodies they dragged and some they carried to the trap-door, where they threw them into the cellar. Filomeno or some one else then went into the cellar and secured the money. I don’t know how much was obtained, but he gave Ballotti $140, another $40 and handed me $20.
“After everybody had washed their hands and taken off their bloody shirts, which were thrown into the cellar, we took four revolvers, locked the doors and went to the tin-shop on Fifteenth street. About 9 o’clock that night Filomeno, Deodotta, Ballotti, Valentine, Guiseppe and the light-haired tinker went back to the house. I did not go, but went to sleep between two tinkers, who, I think, knew all about the murder, for Filomeno told them to watch me, and also told me that if I said anything about the murder, or attempted to run away, he would kill me. That night Ballotti, Campagne and I walked to Littleton, where we slept near the depot until a freight train arrived, which we boarded and rode on to Pueblo.
“I came from Central City about three weeks before the murder, and Filomeno told me he should kill the old man and the boys. I was afraid to tell any one, fearing that he would kill me, too, and the gang never allowed me out of their sight, day or night. Filomeno told us he was going to Mexico, and would write to us.”
As the musician who played the harp as an accompaniment while the throat-cutting was in progress has talked so plainly, let us visit Ballotti and, if possible, obtain from him an account of the crime. Entering the cell, a rather good-looking young man, of a compact frame and with the dark skin of an Italian, comes forward to greet us. He commences his story as follows:
“When I came here some months ago, Filomeno Gallotti assisted me in many ways, and placed his house and his purse at my disposal. He finally told me that he intended to kill the old man and the boys, and I endeavored to obtain funds sufficient to go to Cheyenne and get away, but in this I was unsuccessful, and I told Deodotta, together with another man at Sloan’s lake, what plans had been made. Filomeno told us to go to the house on Lawrence street and pretend to teach the boys music, and we were thus engaged for three days prior to the murder. After Filomeno cut the old man’s throat, he gave me a knife and told me to help the others. I did not wish to kill them, but, fearing Filomeno, I drew the back of the knife across the big boy’s throat, but did not hurt him. When the last two came Filomeno stood behind the door and, as the little one entered, carrying his harp, he said, holding up a fancy article he had purchased, ‘Look here. I have bought you something nice to-day,’ and just then he seized the poor boy, pulled him down upon the floor and, putting his knee on his head, said, in Italian: ‘Ah, my boy, I’ve got you now.’ With that he thrust his knife up to the hilt back of the ear and gashed the throat wide open. When the other entered, Filomeno, the miner and the tall tinker cut him all to pieces. He held on to his harp and ran around the room with his throat cut, the blood pouring from the wounds in a torrent, and Filomeno pursuing and stabbing him. Finally he succumbed and fell with the harp on top of him. The old man wore a belt filled with gold, and Filomeno divided it around. In all, I suppose the belt contained about $1,400.”
From this point on the story contained only unimportant details.
Says John Anatta, another of the murderers, when talked to: “I can not sleep, for ‘Old Joe’s’ spirit haunts my dreams, and when he approaches me I seem to be cutting his throat. But no sooner have I done so than a brand new one takes its place, and I awake horrified. It was awful, but I could not help it, and I did not do any of the cutting. I hit one of the boys on the head, but the knife bent and cut my hand, and that was all I did.”
Let us again visit Gallotti, and after we have told him what the others say, perhaps he will be induced to give some account of the horrible butchery in which it is claimed he took such a prominent part. A dark scowl again greets us, but he is in better humor—just in trim to cut throats were the occasion propitious.
“Now, see here, Gallotti, the others have told us all about this affair, and you might as well say something, too.”
“Well, you see, I commenced the job at the card table, by catching ‘Old Joe’ by the hair and sawing my knife across his throat until he was quite dead. I helped to kill one of the boys, as the others were making a bad job of it. I then put up my knife and watched Anatta, Ballotti and Guiseppe cut the other two. I secured $800 in gold and $377 in currency, but I gave the most of it to the others. I conceived the idea of the murder some time ago, and when I broached the subject to the others individually and at different times, they all were eager to engage in the scheme. My reason for killing the old man was this: Several years ago I lived in New Orleans and, being successful in business, my countrymen often deposited their savings with me. The sum thus entrusted to me increased until I had about six thousand dollars of other people’s money. Thinking it proper to invest this, I loaned it to a fruit dealer, who promised to pay a fair rate of interest on the amount advanced. Subsequently, and as I afterwards learned, by ‘Old Joe’s’ advice, the fruit dealer decamped with the money. I followed him all over the country, but finally my means became exhausted and I came to Denver, where I settled down at my trade. One day I was asked to write a letter for the man on Lawrence street, and when the address was signed, I learned for the first time that ‘Old Joe’ was the one who advised the fruit dealer to abscond with the six thousand dollars. I kept this to myself, but continued to watch him, and finally was satisfied that he was the identical ‘Joe’ who had been in New Orleans. Then I determined to kill him, and enlisted the others in the plot. They are as guilty as I, and deserve as severe a punishment.”
This being all Gallotti has to say, we are forced to withdraw.