Small Town News

Fired employee goes postal in state capitol

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THIS WEEK IN TEXAS HISTORY

The shocking events of June 30, 1903 may have left most Texans at a loss

for words, but not an East Texas editor who wrote, "The tragedy is the first of its kind in the history of the state and is the most appalling in the annals of the South."

Col. Robert Marshall Love was chewing the fat with a preacher from Bonham on that fateful morning, when an ex-employee burst into his capitol office. The unflappable official reacted to the rude interruption with a smile, a handshake and an invitation to sit a spell.

The cordial reception from his former boss startled W.G. Hill, who acknowledged the gracious greeting with a stiff nod and plopped down in an empty chair. Repeated attempts to include him in the conversation were rebuffed with hostile stares or one-word replies.

Made uncomfortable by the tension in the room, the minister bid both gentlemen good-bye and rose to take his leave. He was barely out of the door, when Hill jumped to his feet and handed Love a two-page letter that he insisted the colonel read right then and there.

The state comptroller decided to humor the high-strung intruder and spun around in swivel chair to concentrate on the tedious task. As he suspected, the document was the canned clerk's denunciation of his presumably unfair firing.

"The practice of bartering department clerkships for private gain is a disgrace to the public service and in the nefarious traffic you are a 'record breaker,'" the out-of-work civil servant had scrawled. "Although I can not help myself, before laying life's burden down, I shall strike a blow - feeble though it may be - for the good of my deserving fellow man."

Hill did not wait for his victim to finish the letter he had spent hours writing. He reached in a coat pocket, pulled out the .38-caliber revolver on loan from his son and shot the comptroller in the small of the back.

The ear-splitting roar brought bookkeeper J.W. Stephens on the run from an adjoining office. But the would-be rescuer arrived too late to stop Hill from putting a second slug in the bleeding colonel, who had turned to face his attacker. The bullet pierced the Civil War veteran's barrel chest, ricocheted off a rib and tore through his lower torso.

Hill heard Stephens coming and whirled to welcome him with the business end of the smoking revolver. The broad-shouldered bookkeeper flattened him with a flying tackle that knocked the six-shooter out of his hand and sent it skidding across the freshly polished wood floor.

The reverend reentered the room to see the two men locked in a life-and-death struggle for the weapon. Transfixed by the savage scene, he watched helplessly as an anonymous hand grabbed the gun and ended the wrestling match a split-second later with a third and final shot.

For several suspenseful moments, the preacher could not identify the winner of the desperate battle. Finally, to his immense relief, the burly bookkeeper rose to his feet and stood over the motionless murderer.

Hill was soon an island in an ocean of his own blood. He rolled over on his back revealing the source of the crimson sea - a bullet wound in the stomach.

Retrieving a tiny bottle of poison from his vest pocket, the groaning gunman begged the bookkeeper not to interfere. "Let me take this and die easy," he whimpered. The pitiful plea fell on deaf ears, and Stephens pried the vial from his cold fingers sentencing the assassin to a slow death.

Chaos reigned in the capitol as word spread of the shooting. To accommodate the concerned and curious at the crowded crime scene, Hill was carried to the far side of the rotunda and left alone to wait his turn for medical attention.

The state health director examined the conscious comptroller and confirmed his wounds were fatal. Realizing he had only minutes to live, Love called for a stenographer and calmly dictated a deathbed statement. "I have no idea why he shot me. May the Lord bless him and forgive him. I can say no more."

The inevitable happened at five minutes past 11 with his loved ones and Gov. S.W.T Lanham at his side. "After one unsuccessful effort to give to the world and those around him a last parting word," the Austin American-Statesman reported in the flowery prose of the day, "the soul of R.M. Love plumed its snowy pinions and sailed away to the pearly portals of Paradise."

Homicidal Hill died four hours later with his motive still a mystery. The vague reason he gave for the first and last killing in the capitol was, "He didn't treat me right."

Lax security was initially blamed for the incredible crime, but turn-of-the-century Texans later came to grips with the disturbing fact of life later faced by their modern-day descendants. There is no bulletproof safeguard against a madman on a mission.

"Secession & Civil War" - newest "Best of This Week in Texas History" collection available for $10.95 plus $3.25 postage and handling from Bartee Haile, PO. Box 152, Friendswood, TX 77549 or order on-line at twith.com.



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© 2010 The Free Press Buda, Texas. All Rights Reserved. This content, including derivations, may not be stored or distributed in any manner, disseminated, published, broadcast, rewritten or reproduced without express, written consent from DAS.

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