Kentucky History & Haunts

In February 1933, the small community of Tomahawk, Kentucky, became national news after Lucinda Mills was killed as a religious sacrifice during a ritual led by her son, John Hampton Mills. This week, we head to Martin County to explore the events leading up to Lucinda’s death, the relatives arrested in its aftermath, and the trial that brought crowds to the courthouse in Inez. Drawing on newspaper coverage, we follow the investigation, conflicting accounts of the family’s activities, and the surprisingly short time some of those convicted spent behind bars. We also examine how the press framed the case as a sensational story of a mountain “cult”—and consider the grief, questions surrounding John’s mental health, and family dynamics behind those headlines. Content note: This episode discusses the death of a child, mental illness, and the murder of a parent, including descriptions of violence. See the historical photos discussed in this episode and follow Kentucky History & Haunts: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kyhistoryhaunts Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kyhistoryhaunts Have feedback or a suggestion for a future episode? Email [email protected]. Thanks for listening, and Happy Halloween!

Charles “Speedy” Atkins moved to Paducah, Kentucky, looking for work. He found a job at the Dixon Tobacco Company and enjoyed fishing—a pastime that ended in tragedy when he drowned in the Ohio River in 1928. But his story didn’t end there. In this episode of Kentucky History & Haunts, Jessie explores how Speedy’s body came into the care of funeral director Albert Z. Hamock, whose secret embalming formula preserved his remains for decades. Displayed to visitors and eventually featured on national television, Speedy became widely known for what happened to him after death. We’ll talk about life in segregated Paducah, the Hamock funeral home, conflicting accounts in newspaper coverage, and the burial that finally came in 1994—66 years after Speedy’s death. Content note: Discussion of accidental drowning, human remains, and the public display of a deceased person. Connect with Kentucky History & Haunts Follow along for photos accompanying this episode, Kentucky history, and podcast updates: Instagram: @kyhistoryhaunts Facebook: Kentucky History & Haunts Email: [email protected] Enjoy the episode? Leave a rating or review and share Kentucky History & Haunts with a friend who loves the strange stories behind Kentucky’s past.

In Part Two, John Reinhardt Pflanz Jr. finally sees his longtime campaign for a modern Louisville jail become a reality—but the new building brings plenty of new problems. After the jail opens in 1905, Pflanz contends with smuggling, faulty heating, a flooded tunnel, the lack of padded cells and one unfortunate matron who gets locked inside the abandoned jail for five hours. He also establishes a library for prisoners, advocates for Kentucky’s new juvenile court system and helps organize the County Jailers of Kentucky Association, which elects him as its first president. Pflanz loses his office in 1907 but returns two years later for a much rockier term marked by criticism of the jail’s management, an ugly battle over the appointment of female matrons and another bitter election defeat. We follow his repeated attempts to reclaim the office through his final years and death in 1927. Today, the jail Pflanz helped build still stands in downtown Louisville—and some believe a few former occupants may have never left. Hear the mysterious sounds recorded inside the Old Louisville Jail: https://www.wave3.com/story/36686729/ghost-hunters-reveal-spooky-sounds-in-old-louisville-jail/ Follow Kentucky History & Haunts: Facebook: facebook.com/kyhistoryhaunts Instagram: instagram.com/kyhistoryhaunts Email: [email protected] Send mail to Jessie: 252 Whittington Pkwy Louisville, KY 40222

After briefly encountering Jailer John Reinhardt Pflanz Jr. in our episodes about Rainey Bethea, I went looking for a little more information—and wound up with a 10,000-word story. Born to German immigrants in Louisville’s Portland neighborhood, Pflanz rose from city councilman and local inventor to Jefferson County sheriff and, in 1898, county jailer. He quickly gained a reputation for running a tighter ship while advocating for cleaner, safer and more humane conditions inside Louisville’s dangerously overcrowded jail. In Part One, we explore Pflanz’s early political career, the supposed discovery of gold beneath one of his Portland properties, his appointment of the jail’s first female matron and his persistent campaign for a modern jail with separate wards for women, children and first-time offenders. But life inside the jail was rarely dull. There were elaborate dinners for public officials, a wedding between two prisoners, feuding matrons, a smallpox outbreak, an audacious escape through the roof and the arrival of men accused of involvement in the assassination of Governor William Goebel. Pflanz also survived a brutal election-day assault and endured devastating losses within his family. Although widely praised as a reform-minded jailer, Pflanz was also a deeply contradictory figure whose public speeches revealed the racism underlying Louisville and Kentucky politics at the turn of the twentieth century. Follow Kentucky History & Haunts for historical photographs, newspaper illustrations and more from this episode: Facebook: facebook.com/kyhistoryhaunts Instagram: instagram.com/kyhistoryhaunts Email: [email protected] Send mail to: Jessie 252 Whittington Pkwy Louisville, KY 40222

In Part One, we followed Rainey Bethea’s story through the murder of Lischia Rarick Edwards, his arrest, conflicting confessions and remarkably swift trial. After a proceeding lasting only a few hours, a jury deliberated for less than five minutes before sentencing him to be publicly hanged. Part Two begins with Black attorneys, journalists and civil-rights advocates attempting to secure Bethea a new trial. They questioned whether he understood his guilty plea, received adequate representation or had his constitutional rights protected. Although a federal judge temporarily stayed the execution, Bethea’s petition was dismissed. Governor Chandler set a new execution date of August 14, 1936. Meanwhile, Owensboro prepared for a spectacle. A gallows was erected near the Ohio River, hotels filled with visitors, and residents held “hanging parties.” Thousands gathered around the scaffold, with spectators climbing onto vehicles and nearby buildings for a better view. National attention focused on Daviess County Sheriff Florence Thompson, Kentucky’s only female sheriff at the time. Newspapers were fixated on whether she would personally spring the trap. Thompson instead selected Arthur L. Hash, a former Louisville police officer and World War I veteran who volunteered for the job. Witnesses said Hash appeared visibly intoxicated and unsteady on the scaffold. Shortly after 5:00 a.m., Bethea arrived from Louisville. He had been baptized while awaiting execution and reportedly said he had made peace with God. A priest accompanied him onto the scaffold, where he made his final confession but did not address the crowd. Hash released the trap as thousands watched. Afterward, spectators surged toward the scaffold, and souvenir hunters tore pieces from Bethea’s clothing while he was reportedly still breathing. Professional execution consultant George Philip Hanna later called it the worst display he had witnessed during approximately 70 hangings. The scene generated immediate outrage. Letters and editorials described it as barbaric and humiliating, arguing that public executions encouraged mob behavior rather than serving justice. Owensboro’s newspaper pushed back, accusing visiting journalists of exaggerating the disorder after they were denied the sensational story they expected: Florence Thompson personally pulling the lever. The backlash helped change Kentucky law. In 1938, Governor Chandler signed legislation repealing the provision that allowed people convicted of rape to be publicly hanged in the county where the crime occurred. Rainey Bethea’s hanging is generally recognized as the last public execution conducted in the United States. Its history raises difficult questions about race, justice, punishment, media sensationalism and the public’s willingness to turn death into entertainment. Content warning: This episode includes discussion of execution, mob violence and racism. Photos and newspaper clippings will be shared on the Kentucky History & Haunts social media pages. Questions, comments or episode suggestions? Email [email protected]. Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kyhistoryhaunts Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kyhistoryhaunts If you enjoy the show, please follow, share the episode and leave a rating or review on Apple Podcasts or Spotify. Additional reading: https://time.com/archive/6755762/crime-party/ Mailing address: 252 Whittington Pkwy, Louisville, KY 40222