The Two Executions of Daniel McCrory

Daniel McCrory was a known rogue suspected of several robberies and burglaries. In 1813, an act of mercy during one burglary would be his downfall. 

However, Daniel McCrory's ultimate fate would assure him of his place in Carlisle's history of crime and punishment. 

Join me as we tek a deeks at The Two Executions Of Daniel McCrory. 

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:29

All right, and welcome to Carlisle Times and Crimes, the Lyle Podcast bringing you centuries of crack and scandal from the Great Border City. It was 1964 when the last death sentence was carried out in the UK. For nearly a hundred years before that, the executions of criminals took place in private, usually in a room in the jail. But prior to the 1860s, executions took place in public for all to see. This certainly created a spectacle, and hundreds, if not thousands, would attend the dark festivities. For some crowds, it was a chance for a town to show that justice had been done, and for the community to stand together. Public opinion could even side with a criminal if they felt that the accused was harshly dealt with, and this is what we see in today's story. In 1813, over 200 crimes were punishable by death in the UK, although the majority of these were not enforced to their full extent. Known as the Bloody Code, the Walton Black Act 1723 was designed to deal with deer stealing carried out by men who blacked up their faces in the forest. And, combined with existing laws, this brought the number of offences punishable by death to such an extreme number. Now obviously murder and high treason both spring to mind, but a criminal charged with arson, highway robbery, rustling, forgery, destroying machinery, blacking faces up, wrecking a fish pond, or stealing from a shipwreck could soon face the noose if found guilty. In some cases, a judge could decide to lower the penalty to transportation for a set number of years. In 1746, the majority of Jacobite prisoners in Carlisle Castle were sentenced to transportation without trial. Lots were drawn, and the unlucky one in every twenty were put on trial, with those found guilty of treason executed. Some juries would purposefully find prisoners not guilty if the death penalty would be applied in a guilty verdict. But the death penalty certainly didn't serve as a deterrent to some people, and there was always someone willing to take the chance that they'd get away with it. Although desperate times do call for desperate measures, and once you become a career criminal, there's no going back. Let me take you back in time to Carlisle in eighteen thirteen, where the medieval walls are being demolished and the old jail was a standalone building adjacent to where the new jail would be built ten years later. Think of a building in the middle of the road where the court bus stops are now, and you'll get the idea. Allow me to introduce you to Daniel McCrory, an Irish rogue living in the city. Officially, he was employed as a weaver, but he also had a moonlight job, breaking and entering and taking whatever riches he and his motley crew could. The suburbs of Carlisle had yet to spring up, and so even the houses close to the city were few and far between, away from Colgergate, Rickergate and Botchergate. Rural residences were therefore incredibly isolated and were prime targets for thieves. So join me as we take a deeks at the two executions of Daniel McCrory. Sometimes this almost monstrous mythmaking was down to the crimes that had been committed, and sometimes it was due to how despicable the condemned was. And then sometimes, every so often, the events of the execution itself are what leaves a stain in local law. On the dark night of february eighth, eighteen thirteen, a gang of mainly Irish men, including Daniel McCrory, Patrick Gavin, Edward O'Neill, James O'Neill, John Sherry, Patrick or Peter McMahon, John Doherty and John Gatty were up to no good. In an area between Trepenna and Iaby stood Bird House, owned by Jonathan Furnace, and the scoundrels had their eyes on it. The Furnace family and others were inside, and before they knew it, the house had been stormed and they were rounded up, with the majority of the Gan in favour of murdering the terrified residents. After all, dead men tell no tales. An unmasked McCrawy disagreed though, and as the men argued back, he brandished a loaded pistol at the gan and warned that he would blow the brains out of anyone who caused the family harm or violence. The rogues backed down, but as a compromise, McCrawy ordered the family to be locked in a room. The Gan then proceeded to consume liquor and milk and ransacked the house for all it was worth. The bandits ended up getting away with plates, a dozen silver spoons, clothes and two pounds in money. Altogether around twenty pounds worth of goods were taken, which would be well over a grand's worth today. Dan McCrory was a notorious character in Carlisle, well known amongst the poor of Shadinggate and Colgergate, and the authorities. McCrory had long been suspected of multiple burglaries and highway robberies, but the law had never quite caught up with their prime suspect. An Irishman born in County Armagh to apparently respectable parents, it's said that intelligence twinkled in his eyes. Standing around five foot seven inches, he was described as remarkably robust and well made, and he was living in Sharongate, an area populated by weavers. Several important gentlemen, led by Reverend Edward Stanley of Plumlands, were hunting the gan, and in late February, Edward O'Neill, John Sherry, and Dan McCrory absconded from their homes in Carlisle as the net closed in on them. The report suggests that people in the city were suspected of helping the fugitives. There was certainly a respect for McCrawy amongst the lower classes. By the first week of March, though, McCrory had been apprehended. McCrory had been found near Hoick along with Patrick Gavin. It seems that Sergeant David Wright of the Royal Marines was travelling along the road to Edinburgh recruiting troops and, from his time in Carlisle, recognized McCrawy. As acquainted as he was with the fugitive, Wright was also acquainted with the reward money for the gang's capture. Pretending not to know that the men were wanted desperados, Wright agreed to allow the pair to hitch a ride and masquerade as new recruits until arrival at Edinburgh. Wright's next stop was Hoike, and he promptly procured assistance and shopped the pair in. Both men were taken at Jedburgh jail before being transferred to Carlisle. It would be a long stretch for the men, as the Azizes weren't due for another six months. Patrick McMahon was also captured. As for John Sherry, he fled, but was caught in Glasgow the following year. In August eighteen fourteen, Sherry was being transported by an English officer to Carlisle to stand trial for the burglary, when the prisoner made a daring leap from the coach. Sherry made off into the wilderness. But his time would come. We will return to him later. In a pre-Assise's dinner speech at the Crown Amita Hotel in late August eighteen thirteen, due to the numerous burglaries and highway robberies set to be tried, the gentlemen of the jury were warned that by definition, burglary is a nocturnal crime when there is insufficient light to identify the perpetrator. And even the opening of a latch or putting a hand in a window after dark constituted burglary, and the punishment must be death. The unauthorized entry of an Englishman's castle for the purpose of despoiling him of his property, perhaps his life, cannot be guarded against with two strong terrors. In the first week of september eighteen thirteen, the trial of McCrawy, Patrick McMahon, John Doherty and John Gatty took place. For McCrawy, the gig was up. Evidence was piled against him, and he knew it. McCrawy pleaded guilty, perhaps hoping for a lenient sentence of transportation. Patrick Gavin would betray his criminal fraternity and turn Kin's evidence, testifying against McCrawy, effectively signing his accomplice's death warrant in doing so. No honour amongst thieves and all that. Gavin told the authorities that the burglary was planned at Edward O'Neill's house in Colgergate. O'Neill's son had lodged at Bird House in the past and was well aware of the layout of the property and where expensive items would be. Was this son James O'Neill? Gavin's testimony, combined with that of a misses Gibson, who identified McCrawy, was the prosecution's key evidence. No details are given of who she was, but Gibson must have been one of the family who escaped death thanks to McCrory, and was therefore able to pin him at the house. If so, his mercy was his downfall. Well, that and not wearing a mask. During the trial, McCrawy treated proceedings with utter indifference, most likely aware the verdict was a foregone conclusion. Patrick Gavin provoked a reaction from McCrawy though, and McCrawy spat at Gavin as the judicial Judas appeared in court. Daniel McCrawy was found guilty of burglary and sentenced to death. He bowed to the jury before he was removed from the dock and taken to the jail to await his punishment. Whilst most believed that McCrawy prevented the murders of several people, the judge ruled that the circumstance showed that he was the leader of the gang. Only McCrawy was condemned to the gallows, and no bills were found against the others, according to one report. Another report says that Patrick McMahon was also found guilty, but received a reprieve. Whatever the case, only one man received justice. Preparations for the execution began. The gallows were on the outside of the jail, and the condemned would hand high up in view of everyone. It was announced that McCrawy would drop on the arrival of the London mailcoach. A Roman Catholic priest, Reverend Marshall, attended McCrory in his cell as he awaited his doom, but no confessions were forthcoming from McCrawy for now. On Saturday the eighteenth of september eighteen thirteen, at around half past three in the afternoon, Daniel McCrawy was led to his fate on gallows erected on the southeast angle of the old jail. A large body of constables were on hand to control the huge crowd, assisted by a troop of the second dragoon guards and the seventy fourth Regiment afoot. Thousands had turned up to witness the event, some out of respect that McCrawy had prevented the murders of the occupants of Bird House. Combine this with how well known McCrawy was, his daring escape attempt, and the possibility of some final juicy gossip being disclosed by McCrory, and this execution was a box office attraction. Making his way up the scaffold, dressed in a black coat, vest and white stockings, the condemned man showed no trepidation, and with alacrity bowed like an actor, introducing his greatest performance. Taking some paper out, McCrawy read aloud denial of a litany of crimes, knowing full well that he was the prime suspect for them. On the Birdhouse burglary, McCrawy admitted his guilt, and that he had no complaints of the justice that he was about to receive. Quote, I have not the least wish for a reprieve. I feel myself so well prepared to die that I would be sorry to live, McCrawy told bystanders. It was the kind of public performance from a man moments away from being launched into eternity that indeed is a crowd to a man's cause. The prayers were read by the requested Catholic priest. The bell of the London Mill Coach rang as it approached its first stop on English Street, and Dan McCrory dropped. The rope snapped, plummeting McCrawy several feet to the street below, thus breaking his leg. I told you, I told you that rope wouldn't have a man of my weight, McCrawy cried, apparently having been afforded an up close inspection of the arm that would ham him. One can only presume McCrawy's broken leg was left to dangle. There wasn't much point in administering any medical aid. If he was lucky, he might have been offered a swag of liquor, but after a half hour delay while the authorities scrambled, McCrawy was placed in a chair and carried back up to the scaffold, where some new rope was waiting. The crowd was outraged at this treatment, and the soldiers struggled to contain them. No doubt some of the more devoted in the crowd would have seen the rope breaking as divine intervention of an unjust sentence. As it turned out, this second execution was a stroke of luck for McCrawy, as he had forgotten to denounce Patrick Gavin for betraying him. Gavin, he said, had sworn many men's lives away, and McCrawy feared he would do so again. After his impromptu encore speech, the second attempt was made at delivering justice. McCrawy was taken out of his chair and renoosed, presumably having to keep his weight on his one unbroken leg. The trapdoor again opened, and McCrawy dropped for the second time. Again. The rope started fraying. The crowd gasped in anticipation. But it held firm and McCrawy swung for the allotted time before being cut down. The day before the execution, McCrawley's children had visited him in jail and asked when he would be home. I'll be home on Sunday, he replied. McCrawley kept his promise to his kids, his body being sent back to his Shadongate home by Sunday. The next day, on the Monday evening, his body was interred in St. Cuthbert's graveyard, attended by an astonishing concourse of his countrymen and others. The Carlisle Journal commented Though McCrory, previously to conviction, conducted himself in a very hardened manner, his succeeding behaviour was marked by the utmost resignation and tranquillity. Upon the whole, his appearance and demeanour excited universal commiseration. Notwithstanding, everyone fully justified the sentence of law. Daniel McCrory took the ultimate punishment for that gang of men. But what happened to the rest of them? I tried to track a couple of them down. I was unable to find any information on Edward O'Neill, and for a while I did think that it was an alias of James O'Neill, but I believe that he might have been James' father. James was in his early forties at the time of the crime, and so Edward must have been in his late fifties, early sixties at least. At the end of September, a couple of weeks after Dan McCrory's execution, James O'Neill was brought to Carlisle Jail from Dumfries, where he had been on a charge of highway robbery. O'Neill was committed to trial at the following as Izis for the Birdhouse burglary. If he was acquitted, he would be returned to Dumfries to stand trial for highway robbery. If he was acquitted of that too, he would then have to answer to the army on a charge of desertion from the 71st Regiment. O'Neill was jailed in Carlisle, but the following year on the twentieth of march eighteen fourteen, James O'Neill, along with several others, broke out of Carlisle jail. The following description of O'Neill was issued in the press. About five foot ten inches high, stoutish maid, stoops a little when walking, blue eyes, long face, sallow complexion, speaks with the Irish dialect, formerly belonged to the Berwickshire militia, and volunteered into another regiment. Had on a blue, short coat, dark striped waistcoat bound with black, aged forty years and upwards. James O'Neill was apprehended in Glasgow a few weeks later after he And his new wife attempted to spend forged promissory notes at a merchant on Salt Market Street. The report noted the man was recognized as James O'Neill, who had escaped Kakoubri, Dumfries, and Carlisle prisons in the past. Finally, in August 1815, two years after the original trial, O'Neill stood trial at Carlisle, charged with the birdhouse burglary and for escape in prison. The turnkey was blamed for the jailbreak, and O'Neill was acquitted, as he had not used violence to escape. He simply grasped the opportunity to follow the other men out of the jail, with the cells being locked behind them. A hole had been made in the side wall of the jail, allowing an easy escape out into the surrounding countryside. Only two prisoners in the jail at the time declined to escape. There were no mentions of the burglary case in the report of the Assizes, so that charge must have been dropped or dismissed. Either way, James O'Neill walked free from court. In eighteen fifteen the law caught up with John Sherry. He was apprehended in late july eighteen fourteen in Glasgow, and if you remember, he jumped from the coach on his way to Carlisle Jail in the autumn and ran off into the night. It took authorities nearly another year to finally blag their man, and he was jailed at Glasgow on the fourth of june eighteen fifteen. The Irishman stood trial in Glasgow that year for the robbery of Mr McCulloch on Paisley Road on may 19th. News reports pinned him to the Birdhouse burglary, but Sherry denied any connection to the gang or having ever been a prisoner. On Wednesday the twenty seventh of September 1815, John Sherry was found guilty of the Paisley Road robbery and sentenced to death. His accomplice, George Connor, was remanded to prison. In early October, Sherry was part of a gang that escaped Glasgow jail after gaining access to the sewerage system, but he was recaptured and executed on the first of November 1815. For the next century, when reporting on a major execution in the city, the Carlisle newspapers would print past notable executions, usually beginning the chronological list with McCrory's. In 1871, an elderly man wrote to the Carlisle Patriot to correct an article on the old jail. In the letter, he reveals that he was there that day in 1813, and it's thanks to his recollections that this story of McCrory could be fleshed out. The old inhabitant had also witnessed the last men to be hanged on the sands in 1809. These flashbacks allowed generations of Carlioles throughout the nineteenth century to imagine how the scene played out. And now over two hundred years later, the fate of Daniel McCrory can be remembered and commiserated upon once more. The gory story of Dan McCrory is a favourite of mine, although it was a challenge to find extra details for a full-length podcast. Newspaper reports sadly weren't as detailed in the early 19th century as they would become throughout that period. And Ian Ashbridge's book, Foul Deeds and Suspicious Deaths in and Around Carlisle, helped provide some details of the trial. But I hope you've enjoyed this macabre slice of Carlisle's judicial history. You can help support the channel by following and giving the podcast a five-star rein. You can also buy me a weed drink at kofi.com slash Carlisle Times Crimes. And you can follow Carlisle Times and Crimes on Facebook for more stories of the Great Water City. Thanks for listening, take care, and I'll see you again soon.