The Last Hanging in Ripley

By William Macpherson

The Last Hanging in Ripley is a historical novel about the brief, troubled life of John F. Morgan, an uneducated farmhand.

Based in rural Appalachia in the late 1800s, the book offers a fascinating account of a disturbed young man who gruesomely ended three precious lives one early autumn morning.

The family innocently woke that morning, sharing the belief that Morgan was a trusted friend. But unfortunately, this quickly turned to disbelief and horror as their so-called friend brutally struck them down one by one as they went about their farm chores.

Why did he do it? What would cause Morgan, a newlywed and loving father, to slay his hunting buddy viciously, his longtime mother figure, and the young woman who had once embraced him with his first kiss?

Did monetary greed lead to their demise, as the local inhabitants have surmised for over a century? Perhaps some other motive led this young man to carry out his horrific crime.

The author introduces us to the realistic aspects of farm life in West Virginia in the 1890s as he weaves the details about the private side of John Morgan’s life and a glimpse into the public spectacle of his death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hawes & Jenkins Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9781637842386

Book preview

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The Last Hanging in Ripley

William Macpherson

ISBN 978-1-63784-237-9 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63784-238-6 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by William Macpherson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Hawes & Jenkins Publishing

16427 N Scottsdale Road Suite 410

Scottsdale, AZ 85254

www.hawesjenkins.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

1

A Desperate Plea

2

John Morgan Arrives at the Greens' Farm

3

Life on the Farm

4

A Day of Rest

5

John's Story

6

The Friendly Snake

7

A Day of Sadness

8

The Morgan Marriage

9

The Birth Announcement

10

The Murder Scene

11

Trial Prelude

12

The Prosecution

13

The Defense

14

The Sentence

15

An Attempt to Cheat the Hangman

16

Countdown to Judgment

17

Justice Is Served

Public Executions Abolished in West Virginia

Who They Were

About the Author

A historical novel inspired by a true event involving the brutal murders of three people in Grass Lick, West Virginia, during the fall of 1897. It's also a story of love, desperation, and the ultimate betrayal carried out by a troubled young man. The hanging of John Ferguson Morgan, which took place in the town of Ripley, West Virginia, on December 16, 1897, brought to a close all public executions carried out within the state. What drove Morgan to commit such a monstrous act?

William F. Macpherson

I would like to dedicate this book to my wonderful wife, Flor. She is the one person who always encouraged me to believe in myself and what I am trying to accomplish. Thank you, Flor, for accepting me for whom I am and yet challenging me to become even more.

I would also like to dedicate this book to my siblings for their occasional support of my many unsuccessful creative endeavors:

Josie Glauser

Carol Bonar

Cathy DiBartolomeo

Charles Macpherson

Lastly, I would like to dedicate this book to the descendants of Cloah Pfost-Green and for the pioneer spirit that enabled them to carry with their lives in spite of their tragic loss. Through the senseless act committed by John Ferguson Morgan, many lives were forever changed in that little farming settlement.

But at the same time, we must also remember that there were many family members of John Morgan that suffered equally; perhaps the greatest burden and suffering fell on his wife, Rebecca Morgan, and her son, Albert Morgan.

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank the following individuals for their invaluable assistance during my visit to Ripley, West Virginia, in October 2013, to research information related to the Pfost-Green murders.

William Thomas Reynolds, Jackson County Magistrate

Without the help of Tom, I simply could not have achieved the level of success that I enjoyed while doing my research in the Ripley and Grass Lick Creek area. Tom went out of his way to make me feel welcome as a visitor and introduced me to people that I would not have otherwise met. I have a new saying, If you're in Ripley and you know Tom Reynolds, then you know everybody. Thanks again, Tom. You're the best.

Milford Greene

Milford, thank you so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to show me all the local historical sites associated with the Pfost-Green murders. You are a true gentleman and a superb tour guide.

Steve Casto

Steve, from the moment we shook hands, I knew I had a friend I could call on. Thank you for going out of your way to show me your beautiful farm and all its hidden treasures.

Mike McGrew

Mike, you were first introduced to me as the local historian in the area, and believe me, they were absolutely correct in their assessment of your knowledge. Thank you for sharing your insight on the Pfost-Green murders.

Sheri Anderson

Finally, I want to thank my special friend, Sheri, in Idaho, for spending the time necessary to proofread the original manuscript and identify all my many errors. Sheri, you are a real professional. Thank you again.

My friends, if you ever want to experience the true spirit of kindness from a group of people, take an opportunity and travel to Ripley, West Virginia, and its surrounding area and meet with the genuine people living there.

In addition to the friendliness of its citizens, the area is one of the most beautiful places on this earth. It's no small wonder that generation upon generation of its residents remain in that area throughout their lives.

If you're looking for a vacation destination where you can wrap yourself in the natural beauty of our country, head for beautiful West Virginia during the fall season; it's breathtaking.

1

A Desperate Plea

On a dark-gray, chilly November morning in 1897, Nancy Alice Pfost struggled with all her remaining strength as she crawled her way up the dilapidated wooden steps leading up to the front porch of her neighbors John and Emily Chancey. The wound to her head had dulled her senses, and as such, she was unable to feel the small splinters as they penetrated the tips of her fingers. Behind her, Alice left a faint trail of blood droplets, marking a path from her nearby farm where the poor girl had barely managed her escape. With her small, pale hands still quivering out of fear from the ordeal she experienced and nearly unconscious from her wound, Alice managed to pound on the bottom of the door with all the determination she could muster.

It seemed like an eternity, but finally, she heard a creaking sound as someone slowly opened the door. From the pale-yellow light given off by the kerosene lamp, Alice, looking up, could discern that it was Mrs. Chancey standing above her. Mrs. Chancey was clad in her all-too-familiar faded-blue farm dress.

The shadows cast by the flickering light seemed to accentuate the wrinkles in the old woman's face; nevertheless, under the circumstances, it was a face that was a welcome sight to behold for Alice.

Bending down, with the lamp still shaking in her hand, Mrs. Chancey's eyes beheld a sight that caused her to let out an uncontrollable screech; the top portion of Alice's skull had a large gash, with a small amount of blood still oozing out. She even thought she could see a piece of her brain through the opening, but that was just her imagination getting the better of her. At 6:25 am, the early morning twilight did not offer much of a view without the use of the lamp. Even with that, it was still somewhat challenging to discern very much detail or see for any distance.

Nancy Alice Pfost was the twenty-eight-year-old daughter of Mrs. Cloah Pfost-Green, but went by her middle name, Alice. Alice Pfost lived on her mother's farm, together with her twenty-six-year-old sister, Matilda Pfost, whom everyone affectionately called Tillie, and her eighteen-year-old half-brother, James Green, better known as Jimmy. The Pfost-Green farm was situated to the west of Chancey's farm and spanned both sides of Grass Lick Creek, which in turn meandered throughout the beautiful farming area. Cloah Pfost-Green, who was sixty-one, was a widow and devoted mother and grandmother.

Her first husband, Francis Marion Pfost, died in 1873 at the age of thirty-eight and left her well off financially. After being a widow for a little over two years, in September 1875, Cloah, at the age of thirty-nine, married her second husband, Edward Henry Green. Edward, who was sixty-eight at the time of the marriage, was in remarkable shape for his age and processed a rugged face that one only obtains from many years of working under the harsh sun. Even though there was a substantial difference in their ages, they were deeply in love with one another.

Oh! Sweet child, shrieked Mrs. Chancey. Whatever has happened to you?

Struggling to get the words to exit her mouth, Alice, with her eyes filling with tears, whimpered, "It's John Morgan, ma'am. He's seemed to have gone crazy. He was trying to kill us all this morning. He hit Tillie and me in the head with the hatchet we keep in the kitchen. We didn't do anything that would cause him to do these horrible things to us.

Please, Mrs. Chancey, you've got to get Mr. Chancey to help my family. I just know they are hurt real bad. I don't know what's happened to my brother, Jimmy. I hadn't seen him since he went out to feed the hogs this morning with John Morgan. Oh, I just ake somthin' awful inside, thinking about what John Morgan might have done… I'm so scared, Mrs. Chancey.

Before Mrs. Chancey could turn to go back inside for her husband, having heard his wife's scream, he had already rushed to the doorway.

Emily, who's that there layin' on the porch? asked Mr. Chancey. What's a-happened to her? he continued.

John Kennedy Chancey and his wife, Emily, had been happily married for twenty-three years and had nine children to prove it, seven of whom were still living at home when Alice arrived, seeking help. Sleeping arrangements for the four girls and the three boys were accommodated using several bunk beds, which John had built. Yes, living conditions were crowded and chaotic, but everyone was happy with their station in life.

Mr. Chancey, at the age of seventeen, enlisted in the West Virginia 9th Infantry for the Union Army. When he returned three and one-half years later to Jackson County, he took up farming and became quite proficient at it.

Having served during the Civil War gave John a different appreciation for the simple things in everyday life. In his youth, his eyes had seen the carnage that mankind could inflict on one another.

Now he just tried to live each day to its fullest and respect the life of each person he came into contact with. The Chanceys did not enjoy a fancy life but rather a simple, loving, and fulfilling life.

Mrs. Chancey quickly relayed to her husband what Alice had told her.

John, said Mrs. Chancey in an excited voice, help me get Alice inside so that I can tend to her wounds. Then you and William need to get your guns and go up and fetch Ed Southall and git over to Alice's farm as quick as you can. The three of you need to find out what has become of the rest of the family and John Morgan.

William was the Chanceys' twenty-year-old son and a good friend of Ed Southall. After a short struggle, Mr. and Mrs. Chancey managed to get Alice up to her feet, into the house, and seated at the long oak kitchen table, where so many family meals had been shared. Having grabbed his shotgun and several shotgun shells, John shouted out for his son, William, to grab his gun and join him. William, like his father, was already awake and dressed in preparation for the early morning farm chores that were waiting to be tended to.

Without hesitation, the two men were headed for the door.

Mrs. Chancey pleaded one last time, John, you all be very careful over there, as it sounds like John Morgan has plum gone crazy, so you won't know what he might do next. As soon as I dress Alice's wounds and make her comfortable, I'll look for someone to fetch the doctor so she can be tended to properly.

Don't worry, John replied. I'll get someone from the Winters' place to go up to Fairplain and send the doctor back here as soon as possible. You just stay here with Alice. We will be back as soon as we can.

Within seconds, John and his son, William, were leaping off the front porch with guns in hand and were running off in the direction of the Winters' place.

The Winters farm was approximately 1/2 mile to the northwest of the Chanceys', and John and William were taking a shortcut through their harvested cornfield.

They ran along like frightened rabbits, leaving a billowing trail of dust following behind them. Dried shocks of corn were leaning against each other like miniature tepees standing watch over the field as would a sentinel.

As they were running, John's thoughts were being pulled off in a multitude of directions, with questions racing through his mind. Was the family still alive? Was John Morgan even there? Why did he attack the family? He knew he couldn't provide the answers, but again, he couldn't stop the thoughts from arriving without invitation. Despite the terrible situation that they faced, John Chancey could not help but admire the beauty of the few yellow and copper-colored leaves that remained on the trees that they ran alongside.

Generally, by this time of the year, all the trees would be entirely stripped of their vibrant color, leaving only their sad bare gray branches to be shared with the world. Jackson County, West Virginia, in 1897, was undoubtedly a beautiful place to live and live off the land, except this morning, things were starting off to be quite different.

Like so many other pioneers, the Chanceys crossed the Appalachian Mountains to lay claim to land in Jackson County, specifically the little area that became known as Grass Lick. The small farming settlement of Grass Lick got its name from sporadic deposits of natural salt throughout the region.

Meandering throughout the surrounding region was a beautiful stream of water known as Grass Lick Creek. With its sparkling clear water, the little stream was home to turtles, frogs, fish, and occasionally, muskrats and raccoons searching for a meal. The residents quickly learned that you never want to corner a muskrat, as they will quickly become aggressive and attack you.

Further to the northwest, Grass Lick Creek eventually flows into Big Mill Creek. The tiny farming community of Grass Lick is eight to ten miles to the Southeast of Ripley, West Virginia, which serves as Jackson County's county seat.

When founded, Ripley was named in honor of Harry Ripley, a young Methodist minister who drowned in Big Mill Creek just a few hours before his wedding was to take place.

In the 1790s, Indians in the area attacked and scalped any white people trying to settle on their lands. However, that was all in the past. Now there were new fears to be faced by its citizens.

Leaving Alice sitting at the kitchen table, Mrs. Chancey picked up the old iron poker leaning against the fireplace and pushed the small black kettle, partially filled with water, back over the burning flames. All the cabins and rustic houses in this farming area had a single fireplace used for heating, lighting, and cooking their meals.

Of course, some of the more affluent citizens, like the Pfost-Green family, had a cast-iron stove primarily to prepare the meals. The Chanceys' fireplace had a thick iron rod called a fireplace crane that swung in and out of the fireplace so that cooking utensils could be hung over the fire with greater ease.

This arrangement also helped prevent the women's long dresses from bursting into flames when they got too close to the fire while cooking.

Before the fireplace crane came into use, many housewives met with an untimely death or encountered serious injury while preparing the family meal. The kettle, which hung from the rod, was covered with black soot from weeks of use between cleanings. Still waiting for the water in the pot to heat up, Mrs. Chancey returned to the table and sat down next to Alice. Using the most calming voice that she could conjure up, she asked Alice to tell her exactly what happened that morning. In a trembling voice, Alice began to relay the terrifying events she had lived through.

"Yesterday, John Morgan spent the night with us so my sister Tillie could shingle (cut) his hair sometime this morning. We all got up early as usual, and Jimmy and John went out to feed the hogs. Mama was in her room, making up her bed and getting dressed. Tillie and I were just starting to fix breakfast when John came back into the house alone. We asked him where Jimmy was, and he told us he was out checking his traps.

Tillie and I both turned and looked at each other when he said that. We knew that it didn't make any sense because Jimmy had just checked his traps the day before, and he always waited at least one or two days before he rechecked them.

Alice continued, Then John went out on the porch and whistled real loud. He came back in and said he heard Jimmy's whistle off in the distance. Tillie and I took a lamp and went down to the springhouse to get the milk for breakfast. Jimmy wasn't there when we got back, so I told John something must have happened to him. John went back out on the porch again and, after a few minutes, came back in, saying he was sure he heard Jimmy coming.

At this point, Alice stopped for a few seconds to gain her composure, then continued her narration. Mrs. Chancey, in an instant and with no warning at all, I saw John hit Tillie twice on the head with the hatchet, and she fell to the floor. Next, he comes running after me and hits me too. It all happened so fast that I didn't even have time to scream. While I was lying on the floor, Tillie got up and managed to go through the door into the sitting room. When John heard Tillie struggling to get out, he left me on the floor and started back after Tillie a second time.

At this point, tears began to fill Alice's eyes as she once again relived the horror of what had occurred.

With an unstoppable determination, coupled with the comfort she felt sitting next to Mrs. Chancey, Alice went on to described the terrible events that had taken place. I was able to get up and make my way outside. I hid behind some boards stacked next to the chicken coop for a short time. As soon as I thought it was safe, I started off toward your place to get help. The last sound I heard coming from the house was my mama and sister pleading for me to get the gun and help them. Mrs. Chancey, I was so scared. I just couldn't go back. I…just couldn't. I don't know if they're still alive or not. Oh! Dear God, I do so pray they are still alive.

After listening to Alice recite her horrific ordeal, Mrs. Chancy found that she, too, was shaken and scared. She even wondered that if John Morgan was fast approaching her house at this very moment in a desperate effort to find Alice and finish her off. As these thoughts raced through her mind, she promptly got up and rushed to the door to secure the latch. Wasting no time, she quickly went into her bedroom and returned with the spare shotgun that her husband had kept there. She was relieved to see that the gun was loaded and ready to be fired.

Sitting back down at the table, she tried as best as she could to reassure Alice that all would be well even though she knew in her heart of hearts that all of her family was probably dead.

While both were still seated at the table, Mrs. Chancey attempted to make small talk with Alice. She knew full well that it was ridiculous for anyone to carry on a casual conversation while confronted with a situation as serious as this; she simply did not know what else to do.

For sure, she didn't want to let on to Alice how concerned she was over the wound to her head. She also wanted to avoid asking Alice any more questions about her family's status in an effort not to arouse the pain and fear in her eyes that she had previously seen. She was, in fact, totally amazed that Alice could actually speak or function at all. She had never seen anyone so severely injured that somehow had remained alive.

Seeing the steam begin to rise from the kettle, Mrs. Chancey got up from the table and walked over to the fireplace, carrying a small