Ralph Pope - "$1,000 Reward — My Foot Race with a Telegram" (1877)

INTRODUCTION

Ralph Wainwright Pope was born at Great Barrington, MA on August 16th, 1844 and died on November 1st, 1929. He was the younger brother of electrical engineer Franklin Pope, and like his brother, was also engaged in telegraph engineering, beginning his career with the American Telegraph Company in 1862. He served as the secretary of the American Institute of Electrical Engineers from 1885 to 1911, and upon retirement was appointed Honorary Secretary for life. 

"$1,000 Reward" was published in the 1877 anthology of telegraph fiction, "Lightning Flashes and Electric Dashes". Typos in the original have been preserved.

References/further reading:

Engineering and Technology History Wiki: Ralph W. Pope https://ethw.org/Ralph_W._Pope

$1,000 REWARD - MY FOOT RACE WITH A TELEGRAM

It was one of the brightest of early spring days—the last Sabbath in April. Too early for the first green foliage of the new-born season, but following closely as it did upon the long, dreary winter months, the warm rays of the sun were so tempting, the artificial heat within doors so oppressive, that the temptations for a long ramble were simply irresistible.

I lived on the border—not exactly the frontier of civilization, but just outside the limits of the city of E----, N.J. [Chrononauts note: The city of Elizabeth] South of of me were the pavements, street lamps, modern architecture, and all the accompaniments of city life. To the north stretched the Morris turnpike—sparsely settled, with here and there a weather-beaten, low-roofed farm-house, which may have been at one time the headquarters either of Washington or some of his subordinates. It is, at least, classic ground, for this was the direct route during the Revolutionary War from the American camp at Morristown to either Philadelphia or tide-water. A stroll for pleasure instinctively led myself and companion in the direction of these rural scenes. First across the creek to a saw-mill, the quaint machinery of which was always a source of wonderment, not that its finish was remarkable, or its mechanical complication beyond solution, but that so insignificant a turbine wheel should have sufficient power to move such a conglomerate mass of eccentric gearings, saw-dust, bark, and cobwebs. The details of our ramble were, in the main, like those enjoyed by all who commune with nature. Leaving behind us the ancient saw mill, the dam, and pond, crossing the high way, scaling the moss-covered fence, built in " those good old days," we plunged into the outskirts of the woods, and were soon threading the underbrush on the lookout for any thing that might be of interest. Suddenly my companion halted. I glanced quickly ahead in the direction he pointed, and was startled for the moment upon seeing the prostrate form of a man perhaps fifty yards ahead of us. We approached cautiously, thinking he was asleep, but upon reaching him we saw at once that he must have been dead several days. Having in view the coroner's inquest, I noted the time of day—eleven o'clock—and with due regard for the requirements of the law, we left everything undisturbed and hastened to the city to notify the proper authorities of our discovery. Half an hour's walk brought us before the chief of police, to whom we gave a brief narrative of our morning adventure. He displayed little interest in our story, however, merely remarking that it was probably some tramp who had strayed out of his route and died in a fit. Being out of the city limits, he seemed little inclined to bother with the matter until I remarked that the clothes upon the body were sufficient evidence that the wearer did not belong in the ranks of the traveling poor.

My statement was not without effect. A prospective reward seemed to infuse activity into the corpulent form of the chief, and he at once ordered a carriage, and inviting us to join him, we drove as near the spot as possible, alighted, and were soon again standing around the unknown corpse, with no little curiosity to learn more particulars than we yet knew regarding the apparently violent death. The chief, like most of his class, was a man of few words, but a wise look, as if his waking hours were spent in the fabrication of theories. By virtue of his office and familiarity with scenes of this kind, he did not hesitate to turn the body over as soon as he had made a brief inspection of the surroundings. The face was decomposed to such an extent that recognition would have been impossible even had it not been the face of a stranger. He had been a man of medium height, heavily built, dressed in a dark business suit, with brown spring over coat and a silk hat, which had fallen from his head as he fell forward, and lay upon the ground six feet from the body. Upon his sleeve buttons was the single initial "R" in the old English letter, which was the only clue to his identity that could bo found about his clothing. Underneath the body was a Colt's revolver, with one chamber empty, and upon the right temple of the victim the dark purple spot which marked the entrance of the death dealing bullet.

"Suicide," was the general exclamation, as these developments were brought to light, and, strange to say, the chief had no theory to bring up in opposition to this spontaneous verdict. A further search brought to light among the leaves by the side of the body two dollars and eighty cents in currency; on the other side a pocket knife, a night key, and a few other trifles. The pockets were turned inside out, which at first glance seemed to indicate robbery and murder, but there was no other evidence to support this view of the case, so it was the general impression that the man while sitting at the foot of a tree emptied his pockets of their contents and then deliberately shot himself.

Meantime, the chief had been pondering over a copy of the New York Sun, which he found in a side pocket of the overcoat. The paper was folded in such a manner as to expose but a single column on the first page, which seemed at once to throw new light on the mystery. The following was the article:

THE MISSING CONTRACTOR.

"An advertisement appeared in the Herald a few days since, offering one thousand dollars reward for information that would lead to the discovery of the whereabouts of Henry Roberts, a wealthy contractor residing in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. At the time of his disappearance he was engaged on a heavy contract at Easton, Pa., and was supposed to have in his possession about five thousand dollars, with which to pay the wages of his hands employed on the job. His friends can not account for his sudden disappearance excepting on the theory that he has been foully dealt with. He is a man of dark complexion, black hair, and wears a heavy moustache. He is five feet ten inches in height, and was dressed in a dark business suit and silk hat. Any information regarding him should be sent to Detective Tully, at Police Headquarters, New York City.

A flutter ran through the little knot of by standers, and it was plain to be seen that it was the general impression that on the ground before us lay the body of the missing contractor.

Nothing further remained to be done excepting to deliver the body to the undertaker to be prepared for burial, so the little assemblage broke up. I nudged my companion, Charlie, and told him to walk home with me as I wished to talk with him. The other people, including the chief of police and the coroner, rode down in the carriage. After all had gone, I told Charlie what I suspected, aud the plans I had formed, based on the following line of reasoning : I was satisfied that the chief intended to get the reward, or a large share of it, provided there was any to be obtained. All the circumstances seemed to indicate that the body was that of the missing contractor, and if so, we were clearly entitled to the reward of one thousand dollars. The person who is first to give this in formation to Detective Tully will claim the money. Certainly none can show a better title than ourselves, but we must be quick, as the chief is wide-awake. It is now one o'clock. The last train for New York left at twelve. The telegraph office will not be open until five o'clock. If the chief sends a telegram at that hour it will uot reach police headquarters much before six o'clock. I propose that we foot it to New York. It is thirteen miles to Jersey City. We can do that in four hours, and if we are prompt in starting we shall have an hour left in which to reach headquarters on Mulberry Street, with a fair chance of being ahead of the telegram. As I was older than Charlie, and well versed in all the details of my proposed plan, he did not hesitate to indorse it, especially as there was a prospect of securing a good sum of money if wo were quick enough.

Stopping at our homes only a sufficient time to partake of a hasty lunch, and apprise our friends of our probable absence for the night, we started on our journey. We thought it possible that we might connect with a stage at Newark, which makes occasional trips to Jersey City on Sunday, and this would shorten our walk by seven miles. In this we were disappointed, however, and the only lift we secured was a ride on a horse car through Newark, a distance of about two miles. We reached Jersey City at about five o'clock, as I had calculated, and after a few minutes' detention at the ferry, crossed the North River, and at half-past five started from the New York side, making the best time we could to the Mulberry Street police station. Upon entering the building we were directed to the detectives' room, where we inquired for Mr. Tully. The officer in charge replied that he was not in, but gave us his address on Ninth Street. We were about conversing in regard to our business when a Western Union Telegraph messenger entered the room, and as he stepped up to the the desk and opened his book I glanced hastily at the address of the dispatch he was about to deliver, and read the name "Detective Tully." I darted quickly through the door, followed closely by my companion, and as we reached the street I told him we had no time to lose, that the message just brought in was for Mr. Tully, and the boy would be directed to his house. Our only chance was a foot race to his residence, and as we had a good start, I thought we might beat the messenger, he being one of a class who, although very nimble walkers, seldom break into a run. We reached the house in good time, found Mr. Tully at home and at leisure. lie received us very pleasantly, and listened patiently to our story. He seemed to relish our distancing the chief, and said that if we were on the right track we were entitled to the reward. He showed us a photograph of the missing contractor, but we could not determine whether it bore any resemblance to the corpse in the woods. Suddenly our conversation was interrupted by a ring at the door bell. Mr. Tully answered it, and returned with the telegram in his hand.

"You were just in time, gentleman, here is the dispatch from your chief of police," and he handed it to me for my information. I read as follows:

"E------, APRIL 29th.

"Detective Tully, Police Headquarters:

"Body found in woods to-day. Think it is missing man, Roberts, you advertise; come and identify. 

"John Keno, Chief of Police.

"16 paid."

We enjoyed a hearty laugh at his expense, and leaving our new friend apparently imbued with profound admiration of our enterprise, we started on the return trip, doubting the possibility of reaching home before break fast the next morning, but highly elated with the success of our journey, and the corresponding discomfiture of the chief. On our way to the ferry we made arrangements as to the division of our prospective reward and its permanent investment. Inquiries at respective offices of the Pennsylvania and Central Railroads seemed to banish all hope of our leaving the city before morning. Having been recently employed on the Central Railroad, however, I remembered that there was a milk train which ran down Sunday night, and returned from Jersey City as a fast freight with a passenger car attached. This train was largely patronized by deadheads — mostly railroad men returning to their posts of duty after a Sunday's absence. Although not supposed to stop at E------, I concluded to take the risk, so we waited at the ferry gate until the arrival of the boat from the milk train, and returned with it to Jersey City. My whole plan seemed to have been especial ly favored, as we not only secured our passage, but my face was recognized as a title to a free trip.

The car we had entered was pretty well filled with passengers, the majority of them being railroad men, with many of whom I was acquainted. Our conversation drifted to railroad matters, and it would have been evident to any listener, judging from the criticisms exchanged, that we were thoroughly posted on all the details of the road and its management. One of the passengers, wishing to avail himself of the opportunity to acquire information, casually inquired if that train ran through to Easton, and if it made a close connection with the morning train for Williamsport. He seemed rather disappointed on learning that he would he obliged to wait three hours at Easton. My thoughts being occupied with the adventures of the day, I could not refrain from asking him if he lived in Williamsport. Ho replied that he did, that being his native place.

"Do you know of a man named Roberts?"

"There are several of that name in Williamsport. I am personally acquainted with some of them."

"The gentleman I refer to is a contractor." I intended to say more, but a sudden change flashed over the countenance of my fellow passenger, and on the instant my thoughts reverted to the description of the missing contractor and the strange circumstances that had welded it to my memory.

There was no reason for my supposing that this was the man Roberts, although the description seemed to fit him in every particular. So, too, it agreed with the corpse in the woods. When we can almost grasp a long sought object, be it wealth, honor, or position, the attainment of which has long dangled before our eyes, hundreds of imaginary obstacles seem to intervene, dooming us to bitter disappointment. Like the intricacies of a dream, in which we ask ourselves is this merely visionary or is it real? and in our dream we indorse it with a tinge of reality. At last we awake, and it is gone forever, leaving a shadowy imprint of tantalizing joy or unspeakable terror, which lives in our memory for a day and is then filed away, a blank leaf in the archives of our life.

All day I had been reaching for my prospective reward. Every circumstance had favored me ; every incident seemed to confirm the fact that it had been honestly offered and fairly earned. Yet, even as I thought, I would warn myself that there might be some mistake, and here was the first evidence of it which I felt, but could not bring myself to believe.

The next day the New York Sun contained a full account of the discovery of the body, with a description of the articles found near it.

On Tuesday there arrived from New York a German lady, who had read the article in the Sun, and believed it to be the solution of the mystery attending the disappearance of her husband, A. K. Ritch, two weeks before. Inquiring for the chief of police, she was accompanied by him to the undertaker's room, where she identified the body as that of her husband, and substantiated her belief by a description of the articles which had been taken possession of by the proper authorities.

There now seemed little doubt that all difficulties regarding the investment of our reward had been removed, especially as further developments indicated that financial embarrassment had been the incentive to suicide.

The following item, which appeared in the New York papers during the week, completes the history of this strange coincidence so far as I am concerned:

THE WANDERER RETURNED.

"Mr. Henry Roberts, of Williamsport, Pa., whose disappearance a few days since caused so much apprehension among his friends, returned to his home on Monday last. Beyond the fact that he been in New York city, no explanation of his absence has been made public."

Whether the missing contractor was our traveling companion on the return trip Sunday night, I have never ascertained. I soon lost all interest in the affair, but have since felt considerable sympathy for the police officials who invent theories to fit their mysterious cases, and subsequently see them demolished by actual facts.