THE DELICATE STATE

 “May it please your excellency, I would recommend to your mercey and clemency Amy Auger as a pure under witted Creater and a propper Object of mercey……as to Claudius Smith and James Gordon I shall take pleasure in seeing them executed.”- Sheriff Isaac Nicoll, Goshen gaol Jan. 7, 1779

     One of the few times that being a woman was to one’s advantage in Goshen was while facing the hangman. In the historical record of executions of NY State there’s more than one instance of a woman being pardoned at the gallows’ steps. The sheriff always seemed to play it out right to the bitter end. The poor “under witted” creature Amy Auger, resigned to her fate, ready to meet her maker, walked away alive, but definitely rattled and confused. She hadn’t planned for another day on this mundane plane. 

     Left on stage were Claudius Smith and James Gordon, the leaders of a notorious band of outlaws known as The Cowboys. I’m not making this up. When Ainsi Ball built the scaffold to hang the Jennings murderers he referred to a drawing of the hanging of Claudius Smith and James Gordon. After he was executed and buried, Smith’s rather large skull was later mistakenly unearthed during the construction of a new courthouse. A mason with a sense of history mortared the skull into the stone work over the courthouse’s front door. According to local Orange County historian Sam Eagar, the Cowboy’s skull is still there.

    The court sessions in Goshen were long and tedious and had become increasingly repetitive. Although fresh juries were brought in for each respective case, by the time the last person was tried and convicted, the jury could recite Jack’s testimony by heart. Jack spent every day in court, sitting glum, waiting to be called, as the others were tried one by one. The same story was told repeatedly, with few variations for each defendant. The eloquent, long-winded volleys and parrys on either side did nothing but aggravate the men sitting on the juries. They’re all guilty. Get on with it. 

     The gallery overflowed in the packed courtroom and full days dragged into the wee hours of the next morning. Three years prior to Richard’s murder James Teed’s mother, Phoebe Jennings Teed, made out her short will before two witnesses; Marcus Ostrander and Benjamin Sayre. Phoebe signed the paperwork leaving “one mare, one cow, two beds and bedding, all my sheets, table cloths, napkins and pillow cases marked P.T., the family bible and three skips [skeps] of Bees,” to her daughter Anna, along with all her personal property, excepting a note and bond against Richard Jennings, in regard to the Sugar Loaf property. This was an all-important item. She left her son Benjamin $20 cash and a $50 bond. There’s no mention at all of her son James in Phoebe Jennings Teed’s will. I’ve studied it carefully. I have a copy on my desk. This will was the headwater that unleashed the raging flood to come.

    There were plenty of Jennings, Sewards, Conklins and Teeds in Goshen who shifted uneasily in the courtroom chairs as the trial proceeded. They knew this murder was on them. They knew about the will and the multiple property deeds and how nobody dared stop young James and David Conklin, or for that matter, Dick. No family members sat on the juries, but many of their neighbors were sworn in. As much as Richard Jennings’ character was besmirched in print, there were plenty of men and women in town who didn’t have a harsh word to say about him; Jack Hodges included. Hodges said as much to Martin Van Buren. But the family stood mute. 

    It had taken just over two months to get from the discovery of Richard Jennings’ frozen body in December to “How do you plead?” in March. All of the accused had either stood silently or pleaded not guilty—all but one. The wife of James Teed and sister of David Conklin, Hannah Teed, would take her chances and throw herself upon the mercy of the court.

    Married to James, Hannah Teed was also the sister of David Conklin. Attached by booze and sex to Jack Hodges, living in the same small house as David and Margaret  Dunning, Hannah Teed was in the middle of all of it.

      The morning of Hannah’s trial, the bailiff brought the proceedings to order. A hush fell over the courtroom. Hannah had been free on bail since her arraignment, but now she entered the room looking haggard, and silently took a seat next to her husband’s attorney, William Price. Price stood and addressed the court, entering a plea of guilty on Hannah Teed’s behalf. The lawyer explained that Mrs. Teed was in a "delicate state,” in his words, "a passive instrument of compliance, rather than an active agent of the crime.” Hannah stood up and turned in profile to the jury, sticking out her belly a little more. “What good would her execution serve your honor?” William Price implored Judge Van Ness, pointing to Hannah. “Mrs. Teed should be allowed to go home, think about what she has done and have her baby.” ….whose ever it is. It didn’t take Judge Van Ness long to render his decision. Accepting her guilty plea, the Judge turned to Hannah and brought the gavel down hard. “Hannah Teed. I sentence you to 30 days in the Goshen gaol. Case dismissed!”

        The gossips smirked, nodded, rolled their eyes, and poked each other in the ribs. Hannah’s sentence was startling, but nobody was looking forward to hanging “that wretched woman,” anyway. Plus, it was complicated. In order to legally execute Hannah (and not kill her unborn child) the state would have to keep her in custody, wait for her to give birth in the middle of the summer, then take her newborn away, and hang the mother in the heat and humidity of August. As puritanically poisonous as the atmosphere was, there was no appetite for that. Four men would hang and one woman would be publicly castigated, shunned, and spend a month in the gaol. That would have to be enough. In return for pleading guilty to the murder of Richard Jennings, Hannah Teed would only serve a month in jail, and be released just in time to see her brother, husband, tenant and lover all hang.