Chapter Five
An Eye for an Eye & Violence
Although the Sebring Historical Society has the following story on tape in Mr. Skipper’s voice, a perfect record was made by Mr. Nixon Smiley, a staff writer for the Miami Herald, where it appeared on September 6, 1965. Here is a copy of the article...
Justice was “Eye for an Eye” During Florida’s Early Days
Crewsville - “Sure: the recollection of Nelson Lockler’s shooting has stuck in my memory, even though it did happen three-quarters of a century ago.”
C. A. Skipper, a 79 year-old cattleman who lives on State Road 66 near this Hardee County community, was calling up to memory a slaying and a lynching that took place in the 1880’s.
“I remember the Lockler killing so well,” Skipper added, “because it illustrates how justice was meted out in Florida during those frontier days after the end of the third Seminole war.”
“Naturally, I didn’t see either the shooting or the lynching. I may have been only two or three years old. But it was a much-talked about thing when I was a boy, and for a long time afterward.”
Skipper, born and raised in this cattleman’s country southwest of Sebring, knew the pioneer families for miles around. He knew the Crews family for whom Crewsville was named. He knew Harvey and Irwin Lockler, brothers of the slain man.
“Nelson Lockler lived at Charlie Apopka, a fellow named Durfey, had some words.. No, I don’t remember Durfey’s first name and I don’t even remember what the argument was about. But Durfey evidently got to thinking and decided to have it out with Lockler. So he loaded his gun and went to Lockler’s home. Lockler came out and Durfey leaned his gun against the house while they talked.
“Well, the talk turned into an argument and Lockler switched out a knife and made for Durfey. Durfey ran, with Lockler chasing him. Durfey cut around the house, grabbing his gun in passing. He cocked the trigger, then turned and fired point-blank, killing him.
“Durfey must have realized that he was in for trouble. Both of Lockler’s brothers would be out to avenge his death. It was an eye for an eye in those days. So Durfey headed across the prairie, with the idea of fleeing the country.
“A posse led by Dempsey Crews took after Durfey and caught him in the prairie near Sweetwater (Sweetwater’s not on the map anymore) just south of Crewsville. Durfey had managed to get no farther than six or eight miles from Lockler’s house.
“Crews put one end of a rope around Durfey’s neck and the other end to his saddle horn. He made Durfey trot all the way to Crewsville, where they chained him to a tree and set a guard over him.
“They wanted my father to help guard Durfey, but somebody warned him against it. ‘Don’t get mixed up with it” my father was told. “We’re going to fill Durfey full of holes.’
“But somebody got Jack Scarborough to stand guard - until later that day a bunch rode up on horseback - all of them armed. ‘Look out Jack,” Charlie Crews shouted at Scarborough, ‘they’re going to start shooting.’ Scarborough ran and got out of range just as the shooting started. Every man in the bunch emptied his rifle. Durfey was riddled with holes.”
Skipper stood up. “I got to go,” he added. “Lots of work to do.”
“One minute, please,” I asked. “There’s something I don’t understand. Lockler took after Durfey with a knife. Didn’t Durfey shoot Lockler in self-defense?”
“Maybe he did,” Skipper said. “But Durfey went to Lockler’s house looking for trouble. Furthermore, Lockler had a lot of friends. And that made a lot of difference then, just as it does now.”
Skipper put on his hat.
“Come back to see me again,” he said. “I’ll tell you some more stories about life on the Florida frontier.”
While this type of action may seem unnecessarily harsh, it must be considered that courts, lawyers and peace officers were almost non-existent. This fact, in itself would have been ample justification for the practice of homespun justice. But it was probably not the primary reason why the pioneers took stern measures to ensure prompt and positive control.
The underlying motive behind local group action in enforcing home-made codes, was to protect the results of months of backbreaking work necessary to set up their ranches and businesses. This was rough country, settled by rough characters. Proof is readily available that several of the more prominent land and cattle barons had fled the law in their former homes. Many of the men working for them, having been professional army men, held life very cheap and, in some cases, were hired for this reason.
(This article is reprinted from Bulletin Number Five.
Sebring Historical Society, April 1970. Pages 184-186.)
Violence
Sebring’s first sixty years have been remarkably free from any great number of major crimes but some of the few that were committed were of such a bizarre nature that they made front page news stories around the nation and even the pages of police story magazines.
One very unusual “racket” had its beginning in Sebring and, over a period of several years, was operated successfully by two people at many widely separated points over the United States.
The first incident took place at the Sebring office of the telegraph company where a young lady, employed in this office, teamed up with a young lineman of the same firm. It was later learned that he had tapped the telegraph lines entering the city and had sent a fake money order which the lady cashed and pocketed. Even though the company investigated thoroughly, there was no evidence to connect the incident to either of the culprits as the office clerk told that she had received the wire, delivered it to the person to whom it was addressed and later cashed it, stating that the recipient had produced satisfactory identification.
The affair went off so smoothly that, after waiting a reasonable period of time, the couple visited a town several hundred miles distant where she registered in at a hotel, disguised as a rather elderly lady. Her partner climbed a pole some miles from the city and sent another fake money order which was delivered to her and which she cashed. The couple immediately vanished.
This modus operandi was successfully repeated many times before the pair was caught and convicted. They received national publicity but never returned to Sebring.
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On a lazy afternoon in April 1930, a call sent police, firemen and ambulances to a home at Kenilworth Drive and Rainbow Avenue.
The first to enter the house were met by a neighbor who was helping a man wash blood-stains from a shirt, at the kitchen sink. She directed the, police to a bedroom where a woman and her two year old son had been killed by a man wielding a hatchet wrapped in a sock. A younger baby lay asleep in a playpen.
To reach the bedroom, the visitors had to step over the body of a young colored man who lay in the doorway. He had a small caliber bullet hole in the exact center of his forehead and it was noted that a couple strings of cheap jewelry hung from his pocket.
A coroner’s jury was quickly assembled and, to them, the husband told a sad story. He had been taking an afternoon nap in one bed room while his wife and children slept in another. He had left the colored boy washing the noon meal dishes. When awakened by his wife’s screams, the husband dashed to the room where be saw the boy attacking his wife with the hatchet so he went back to his bedroom to get his pistol with which he shot the boy as the latter tried to escape.
The sympathetic coroner’s jury quickly returned a verdict of justifiable homicide, but some of them had other thoughts after they took time to remember some of the facts which they saw. Questions came to their minds. Although there was much blood splattered on the wall and ceiling, why was there no blood on the colored boy? How did the blood get on the back of the husband’s shirt even allowing for his anxiety to rush to the aid of his stricken wife? Why would the Negro boy try to escape by an interior door when he was thoroughly familiar with the fact that there was a door in the bedroom that led to the outside? And, what man, seeing his wife and child being bludgeoned to death, would take time to leave the scene to get a gun instead of jumping at once, to her defense, especially when the husband was a much larger man?
The jury reconvened, reversed its verdict and the husband was arrested. So, the famous Carver murder trial began.
William Raymond Carver retained W. D. Bell of Arcadia who, at that time, was the leading criminal defense lawyer in Central Florida. Little time was lost in bringing the case to trial for, on May 12, 1930 (scarcely more than a month after the murders) the trial started on one of the three first degree indictments. On May 21st, the jury brought in a verdict of guilty with a recommendation of mercy.
Judge Bell promptly filed for a retrial on the grounds that there was such an air of hostility in Sebring that his client could not get a fair trial. (Sixteen other counts were cited.) Really, there was a very pronounced air of hostility and many rumors. It was brought out in the trial that Carver was the beneficiary of a $ 10,000 life insurance policy which carried double indemnity for accidental death and rumor had it that a former wife, also insured for $10,000 and doubled indemnity, had died in a boating accident to which there were no witnesses.
As may be imagined, the courtroom was filled to capacity at each session and, because there were rumors that violence would follow a “not guilty” verdict, armed guards were posted in the courtroom and around the building. Even the fire department was alerted to lay large hose lines which could be used to dampen the ardor of a crowd if it got out of hand. But none of the precautions were needed.
Carver was remanded to prison to await sentencing and a review by the Supreme Court which, a year later (May 1931) ordered a rehearing and in November of 1931, granted a new trial with a change of venue, on the grounds of insufficient evidence to convict.
The second trial was all to the advantage of the defendant with the change of venue as the most important piece of strategy. The trial was moved to Arcadia where attorney Bell was held in the highest esteem as attested by the fact that he was, at times, elected to the state senate and to a judgeship. The prosecution’s case was further damaged by the death of two of its most important witnesses, in the interim between trials. Hence, when a verdict of “not guilty” was returned by the jury in March of 1932, after less than a week of testimony, few people were surprised.
The end of the trial was not the end of the rumors, however. The most widely circulated and the most persistent was that Mr. Bell charged a fee of $ 25,000 and that he had to sue Mr. Carver to collect it.
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The collapse of the Florida boom and the subsequent failure of many banks and the stock market, may not have been the cause of the rash of criminal acts designed for profit but these disasters certainly didn’t discourage crime. One of the more popular ways of making a dishonest dollar in the early 1930’s, was to “sell out to the Yankees.” This was a synonym commonly used to describe arson because all fire insurance companies were northern firms.
By strange coincidence, just an hour before the Carver murders took place, the Grand Jury returned a true bill indicting Dan Ranahan for attempting to burn his home to collect insurance. And, a year and a half later, the same edition of the local newspaper that told of the action of the Supreme Court granting a new trial for Carver, had one headline on the front page telling of another arson attempt in Sebring and an account of a bank holdup in Lake Placid.
Be it said that over a period of about eight years of this depressed era, only one of the five suspected arson cases in the Sebring area could be considered successful. The Lake Placid holdup too, was a dismal failure as both active participants received life sentences and one of them took a charge of buckshot in his shoulder. Justice was swift in this case. The attempt was made on September 30, 1932 and convictions were returned on November 10, 1932. All the money was recovered.
Everything considered, “crime for profit” in pre-depression days in Sebring, did not yield much profit. Even though he was acquitted in court, Carver spent far more on defense than he collected on insurance (if, in fact, he did). Ranahan posted a heavy bond which was entreated when he left town. Another arsonist was badly burned when gasoline splashed on his clothes and was ignited when be touched the match. Only one firebug collected insurance.
(This article is reprinted from Bulletin Number Fourteen.
Sebring Historical Society, July 1973. Pages 449-452.)