From Pathways Genealogical Journal Volume 12 Number 1
On the night of February 8th, 1894, in Union County at about 7:30 o'clock P. M. one of the blackest crimes mentioned on the pages of history was committed. Henry Snoderly and wife, Serena Snoderly, lived about six miles southwest of Maynardville in Union County.
The aged man, after many weary years of toil and tears, had laid up for himself a very comfortable living. He owned a large tract of land and had money around him to lend occasionally.
Mr. Snoderly came from Big Sandy, North Carolina when he was about 21 years of age, and settled here before Union County was established. He had been a prominent figure in the county from its establishment up to the day of his death. No man has done more for the upbuilding of his county. He was always for justice against fraud for right against wrong and for just men against rascals.
Serena Snoderly was the third wife of Henry Snoderly, and a Clear before marriage. Mr. and Mrs. Snoderly lived together in peace for many years living in the good old honest style of our fathers. The fast fashions of today had no attraction for them, nor could the quick ideas of the present draw them from the even terror of their way.
Both belonged to the Methodist Episcopal Church and always attend the church meeting to hear their preacher expound the gospel. They were firm believers in the Bible, not the revised version, and none contributed more to the support of the ministry than they. Mr. and Mrs. Snoderly were very old. The former was in his ninetieth year, the latter, sixty-six. Indeed the evening of life was fast drawing its curtains around them. Time had adorned their heads with silvery hair, and marked their faces with many wrinkles. Justice would have said, "speak no word to these hoary headed pilgrims that will mar their feelings, do not act that will give them pain, think no thought that will do them injury."
On the 8th day of February, 1894, Mr. and Mrs. Snoderly were sitting around their fireside in as good health as could be expected for people of their ages. Lucinda Snoderly, a daughter, Miss Serena Pile and Sam Gwinn, (more on the Gwinn family) two grand-children; were with them. The day's work was done, the shades of night had drawn its folds over the earth and thus gave the would-be-robbers a chance to approach the house unobserved.
How happy it must have been for Mr. and Mrs. Snoderly to sit in their comfortable home, by a nice blazing wood fire in an old fashion fire place, and there talk with and give advice to their young grand children. Mrs. Snoderly sat in one corner of the fireplace, knitting, and Mr. Snoderly sat just opposite her in the other corner. No one knows just what they were thinking about. perhaps their thoughts were on the number of years hanging over them, or perhaps they were giving praises to their great God for the good health. He had given them in the evening of life; or they might have been bestowing praises on each other for braving the battles of life so well.
The children were sitting promiscuously about in the room, glad of their aged parents. No doubt they were thinking of their youth; how they could gamble upon the shiny hillside of fun; or chase smiles on the summit of laughter; or make obeisance in the valley of beauty. Ye demons of hell, upon pain of being thrust into nonentity, don't you molest these people that have assembled. Ye devils that are close on errands, don't you break the happiness around this fireside to night, lest you are chained to a rock with a might hand! Ye men who have blood in your eyes and murder in your hearts don't you send the messenger of death to any of this little fireside assembly, for if you do, ye shall be hanged by the neck like a dog! But no one can tell what is just in front.
As these happy people were seated around the fireside as before stated, all upon a sudden a man appears in the doorway with a handkerchief tied over his face and a pistol in his left hand. He advances to the middle of the room. presto! Their happiness hath flown in the twinkling of an eye. All eyes are turned to the stranger in the middle of the floor. Just behind the first man, another is seen approaching the middle of the room. He too has a handkerchief over his face and a pistol in hand.
"Good God, what will we do!" exclaimed Henry Snoderly. "Throw up your hands!" says the first man who entered the room. Mr. Snoderly quickly obeyed orders by throwing up his hands. Just about the time his hands went up, bang went the pistol of the first man who entered the room. Henry Snoderly in his 90th year fell to the floor a lifeless man. As his life blood was ebbing away, his aged wife tried to made her escape by going out through the back door into the kitchen. This kitchen stood about three steps from the house they were already in. Just about the time she got midway between the two houses, bang went the pistol again and Serena Snoderly too, fell a lifeless mortal with her knitting in her hands.
Serena Pile and Lucinda Snoderly left the room before any pistol was fired. They were so scared that they lay out nearly all night in the torrents of rain that fell. Serena finally found a neighbor's house, but by this time the inmates had gone to the scene of the killing, and before leaving they locked the door. Serena took up a piece of wood, knocked a window out and crawled in. Being wet and muddy from wading the creek and branches, and also being drenched with the floods of rain that fell upon her, she crawled into the closet and remained there nearly lifeless until found next day by her neighbors. Such a night, perhaps never passed over the head of any one so young as she.
There is no one now of the inmates alive in Mr. Snoderly's house but Sam Gwinn. As soon as Mr. and Mrs. Snoderly fell dead, the robbers and murderers leveled their pistols on Sam Gwinn. A bureau with several drawers sat in the corner close to the fire place. They ordered Gwinn to pull out a certain drawer of the bureau, and pour its contents on the floor. Gwinn, of course, obeyed the order promptly. They then ordered him to pull out the bottom drawer. Gwinn could not obey this order, for the lifeless body of his grandfather lay against the drawer and thus prevented him from getting out. Gwinn now saw that the contents of the drawer he had tipped on the floor had attracted the attention of his captors. Their eyes and their pistols were now off of him. He made one fearful jump for his life, reached the door and disappeared in the darkness. Gwinn of course spread the alarm.
The news of the death of Mr. Snoderly and wife spread like wildfire. I heard a great many say that they did not believe the story; for, they would say who would kill an old man 90 years old, and a woman seventy-six; surely no one is so mean, so low flung, so degraded. Of course, if the murders could have been caught at that time, they would never have gone through a trial. Judge Lynch, would have presided over the matter with great dignity and thus, have saved cost to the State of Tennessee.
On the 9th day of February, the day after the killing, G.W. Morton, a Justice of the Peace for Union County, held an inquest over the dead bodies of Henry and Serena Snoderly. It was thought that Mrs. Snoderly had died of fright, but when her clothes were taken off, it was found a 38 caliber ball had passed through her body, taking effect in the back near the spine. The shot that killed Mr. Snoderly took effect little to the right of the middle of the breast, plowing its way through his body into the wall behind him.
From the evidence introduced at the inquest, no clue could be had as to the parties who did the murder. The evidence showed that two of Mr. Snoderly's horses had been taken from the barn the night of the murder, and it was found by their tracts that they had gone in the direction of where John Stanley and Clarence Cox lived. The murderers were described by Sam Gwinn, Serena Pile and Lucinda Snoderly. From all these facts taken together, suspicion rested upon the shoulders of John Stanley and Clarence Cox. Gwinn it seems, knew more about who the murderers were, than he was willing to explain at first. The homes of John Stanley and Clarence Cox were visited by detectives and it was found that they were not there, nor had they been for a day or two. The horses taken from Mr. Snoderly's barn were found in the neighborhood of their homes. Then the people began to tell where they last saw Stanley and Cox. All of this chain of proof taken together put the finger of identity on them.
A reward was offered, three hundred dollars by the Snoderly heirs, and one hundred by the State, for the capture and conviction of the said Stanley and Cox. Of course, "money makes the mare go," and now that a reward was offered, neither Stanley nor Cox saw any more peace, for the numerous detectives that were after them. Stanley and Cox were in Boyd County, Ky., when they heard of the reward offered for them. From there, they went to Virginia, where things began to grow very hot for them. Indeed, it was almost impossible for Stanley to disguise himself as some one had set the mark of Cain upon him, by gashing his head with a knife from the roots of the hair in the forehead, across the head ending almost under the right ear. A description of the two men was sent in newspapers and pamphlets to almost all part of the country.
If Cox had pulled away from Stanley, who had the mark of Cain, he might have puzzled the detectives for many years. But, young man, or old man, you must remember that when you destroy your fellowman, you by the same act, destroy yourself. You may fly to the uppermost parts of the earth, or upon the bosom of the mighty deep, or go into the bottomless pit, and at each of these places, justice awaits you.
If the human race could once understand, that all of God's creation are keen-eyed and quick-brained, detectives of ALL wrongs committed, that race would lop off the most of its meanness, its waywardness and its foolishness. Think ye, that the dark will not apprehend and betray the rogue? I knew a man who stole a sack of wheat, which had red grains of corn mixed in it. The night was so dark that the rogue's horse could not see his way well. The horse ran against a snag, tore the sack open, the wheat ran out, scared the horse, which ran away, threw the man off, broke his leg, his cries of pain called the neighbors to him. The man whose wheat was missing, heard of the tragedy, went to examine the wheat, swore to it from the read grains of corn mixed in it, swore out a warrant and made the crippled rogue glad enough to whack up the worth of the wheat so stolen. Now, how many elements of nature were warring against this fool rogue, right before his eyes? Count them as above set out and you will see that there were just enough to slash him back to justice in a very rough way.
Stanley and Cox remained in Virginia a few days when they got in a boat, in Powell River, and came down to within five miles of Clinton. Here they took to land, and laid around their homes in Anderson County for about three weeks, when they gave themselves up to the officers of the law. I do not know just the day that Stanley and Cox gave up, but it was a few days previous to June 8th, 1894. Neither do I understand why men charged with such crimes would give up. I think there were some arrangements made perhaps between Jud Reeder, of Knoxville, and Cox's father, by which they were to give up for a part or all of the reward. Jud Reeder was one of the keen detectives after them. The law is not built that way. To allow a criminal to give himself up and get the reward would be a cute way for a criminal to get his victim's money with which to defeat justice.
On the 8th of June, 1894, John Stanley and Clarence Cox had their preliminary trail before Dennis Leahy, J.P., in Knoxville, Knox County, Tenn. It was the hope of Stanley and Cox, that at this preliminary hearing they would be able to set up an alibi and thus be free, but not so. The chain of evidence brought out before Leahy, both positive and circumstantial, was so well connected against the defendants, that it was impossible to get in an alibi with anything like the smell of truth in it. Justice Leahy said "it was the best connected chain of evidence he ever heard." The defendants were held to court, without bail, at Maynardville, Tenn., on the 25 day of June, 1894. During the interval defendants were kept in the Knox County jail for safe keeping.
Circuit Court came to Maynardville on the 25th day of June, 1894. As Stanley and Cox had committed, the awful crime in Union County, at the county side of said County of course, was the place where they must answer for it. The Court met, impanelled the Grand Jury, charged it; after which they retired to business. John P. Rogers, Gen. J.D.J. Williams, Gen. D.D. Anderson and Hon. Coram Acuff were the counsel for the State. This double bill was closely scrutinized by the lawyers for the State. Further deliberations this bill was withdrawn and one for the murder of Henry Snoderly alone was sent. In a little while this was found a true bill and returned into open court. A copy of this indictment was quickly issued, placed in the hands of E.S. Sexton, Sheriff, who went to Knoxville and served it on the defendants at 9 o'clock in the evening of the day it was found.
On the 26th day of June 1894, E.S. Sexton, Sheriff, brought the defendants from the Knox County jail and lodged them in the Maynardville jail, preparatory for trail. On the 28th day of June, the State announced ready for trail. S.G. Heiskell, the attorney for defendants, read to the court a strong affidavit for a continuance. Owing to the short time we have in which to write this little book, said affidavit must be left out. However the main ground for a continuance was, that defendants had not had time to have their witnesses summoned, the subpoenas for the same having just been handed to the officer.
His Honor, W.R. Hicks, refused a continuance, and therefore the trail of John Stanley and Clarence Cox began. The following is the boiled down evidence of the State's witness, viz; John Snoderly--I am prosecutor in this case and am a son of Henry Snoderly, who the defendants are charged with murdering. My father, Henry Snoderly, is dead and his wife Serena Snoderly, who is my step-mother, is also dead. In the sitting room of my father's house, there was a bureau filled with drawers, one of which contained $106.75 of my father's money, and $11.00 of money belonging to my sister. The killing was done in Union County, Tenn., on the night of February 8th, 1894 at about 7:30 o'clock P.M. Sam Gwinn came to my house, a half mile below my father's. From him I learned of the tragedy, to wit: the killing of my father and step-mother. I informed some of the neighbors and we went to my father's residence. Coming back Sam Gwinn told me he recognized one of the parties. When we reached his residence I found my father dead, lying near and opposite the bureau, not far from the fireplace. He was shot in front, the ball entering near the collar bone, my mother was lying in the dining room, a room adjoining the sitting room, near the doorway that lead into the kitchen. She was shot in the back and was also dead. In the middle of the floor in the room where my father was, there was a piled a lot of rubbish--contents of the bureau drawer. The drawer was sitting upon its end. Bureau had three large drawers and two small ones. The bottom drawer was in the floor, the middle drawer was partly pulled open against the body of my father. In one of the little top drawers was $106.75 belonging to my father and it was pulled open. In the other little drawer was $11.00, which belonged to my sister. Neither my father's money or my sister's was disturbed. Father was in his 90th year, step-mother was 76 past. Stanley and Cox were strangers to me.
Wm. McCamey, col., testified. In the morning before the killing in this case, I met the two defendants about 8 miles from Knoxville, on the Ball Camp Road, between Bell's Bridge and Knoxville, on their way to Knoxville, I had been to Knoxville and it was about 11:30 A.M. Stanley had on an old overcoat of reddish color. This was on the 7th of Feb'y, 1894.
Richard McClure--I met defendants on Ball Camp Road, in Knox County, on the afternoon of the day before the killing, about a quarter of a mile beyond Third Creek. It was about 12:30 P.M.Stanley wore an old reddish overcoat. I knew defendants well, Cox is my first cousin.
Ollie Oaks--I have known John Stanley, defendant, about three years. On the afternoon of the day before the killing, Feb. 7. '94, he was at my house between 4 and 5 o'clock and some one was with him, but I do not know whether it was defendant Cox, or not, but defendant Cox, resembles the man I refer to. Between 7 and 8 o'clock that night. Stanley came back to the door, but I did not let him in. Later in the night, about 9 o'clock, Stanley came back again, but I did not let him in. He said he was on his way to Kentucky. Witness lived on Central Avenue, in North Knoxville.
For more information on this article or any article or publication of the Union County Historical Society please write them at:
Union County Historical Society
P.O. Box 95
Maynardville, TN 37807
Or
E-mail the Union County Historical
Society.
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