By Allan Peters
Found insane and therefore not guilty of an 1899 murder, a seemingly simple labourer wound up in a lunatic asylum rather than jail. But was he truly insane; and might he have committed another killing just days earlier?
Murder victims Fredrick Gustav Struckmeyer and Mareek (sometimes known
as Merique or Marke) Singh seemed to have only their work as door-to-door
salesmen in common. If any other connection existed between them,
it might just have been the killer by whose hand they died in the
1890s. But those who recorded the bizarre circumstances of their deaths
never seemed to twig to the possibility of such a link.
Struckmeyer, the son of a French mother and German father, was said
to be “well connected” in Hamburg, Germany. He had, evidently, been
the black sheep of his family when he was young; and his father had
sent him on a trip to Australia. There, he remained in South Australia,
after spending all his money. But, a skilled pianist, he played a
few times at the Adelaide Town Hall.
Struckmeyer took a position as a grocer at Walters’ store in Nairne,
where he met his future wife, Ann. The head dressmaker at Walters’,
she was several years older than her youthful beau. After a whirlwind
courtship, the two were married at the Wesleyan Church in Pirie Street,
Adelaide, in June 1881, by Rev JB Stephenson.
Mrs Ann Struckmeyer had had at least one previous marriage – to
Mr William Tilley, a schoolmaster at Kanmantoo in 1857. She had four
daughters from her first marriage and, later, two more to Struckmeyer.
The couple first settled at Redhill but later moved to Adelaide,
where Struckmeyer took up a position at Mr McRostie’s store in Rundle
Street. He would later work at Wertheim’s depot before taking a job
at Mr W F Stock’s office.
Struckmeyer got into trouble at some of his workplaces, where he
was described as worthless, but clever and well-educated. His wife,
who had to support him by taking in dressmaking work, eventually left
him. She opened a shop in Argent St, Broken Hill.
Struckmeyer then moved to Freeling, where he quarrelled with his
new employer, Mr George Nenke, before returning to Adelaide. There,
he sold waste paper and worked at odd jobs for three months.
In 1890, police – according to records – arrested Struckmeyer for
embezzlement, but the charge was later dismissed. In 1893, however,
the police arrested him again, this time for larceny as a bailee.
For this offence, he spent two months in prison.
Struckmeyer later moved to Sedan, where he secured a position as
a grocer and draper with Mr William Farey. After just a few months,
he became engaged to Mr Farey’s eldest daughter, Harriet. Although
he claimed his age was 34, he was actually around 42.
Struckmeyer claimed that his previous marriage had been invalid because
his wife – whose husband, he said, was alive at the time they wed
– had married him bigamously. He asserted that, for this reason, he
was free to marry.
But, William Tilley, according to records, died 12 years before
the second marriage, at the age of 33.
William Farey would, in later statements, describe events leading
up to the night of January 29, 1899.
“Struckmeyer was in my employ for about nine months,” he said, “mainly
driving one of my vans, selling and delivering goods, as well as working
in the store. He was not of sober habits, and lately was very frequently
drunk. After I threatened to dismiss him, he promised to stop drinking,
but he did not do so. He usually became quite aggressive when he had
been drinking.
“Soon after he commenced working for me, he began to court my eldest
daughter, Harriet, and she soon agreed to marry him. Struckmeyer told
me he was perfectly free to marry, but as I knew this was not so,
I told Harriet that she could not entertain the idea of marriage.
She then confessed that she was really quite afraid of him.
“He told me recently that he had a troubled mind and took laudanum
to help him sleep. He said he had about 12 bottles of it.
“He drank a considerable amount of alcohol on Friday January 28
and did very little work. I found him at the hotel again on Saturday
afternoon – he had quite obviously been drinking for some time and
was quarrelling loudly with William Shannon, both men almost coming
to blows.
“I succeeded in getting him away from the hotel but then he became
abusive towards me and said that he wished to quit his job. I told
him that was fine, adding that I would square up his wages and commission
first thing Monday morning.
“He went to the hotel again that evening.
“On Sunday he was again abusive and aggressive towards me. It was
then that I learnt that he had threatened my wife and daughter during
my absence. I therefore sent my daughter to a friend’s place several
miles away where Struckmeyer would not be able to find her.
“I also learnt during Struckmeyer’s bursts of anger that he had planned
to take over my business, and had, unbeknown to me, arranged with
my landlord to take over the lease for the shop when it expired in
about a month’s time.
“The abuse grew in intensity and my family were afraid so I sent
for the district constable, Trangott Burgemeister, and asked him to
stay with my family whilst I went to the Angaston police station,
a distance of some 22 miles (35km), to have Struckmeyer bound over
to keep the peace.
“As I knew that I would be away overnight, I arranged for the district
constable to sleep in the room usually occupied by Struckmeyer, and
my other employee, Tom Allbright, while Allbright slept in the parlor
on the sofa.
“I left Sedan at about 7pm and arrived at my friend Mr Shemmeld’s
house at about 11:30pm. I called at the police station at around 8am
the next morning where I saw Senior Constable Dowling and obtained
the necessary papers for the district constable to have Struckmeyer
bound over to keep the peace.”
District Constable Burgemeister, while spending the night in the
rear bedroom of Mr Farey’s house, was woken by the sound of Struckmeyer’s
voice outside at around 3:15am. He did not understand what he said
but soon heard him softly call: “Tom, Tom.”
With his instructions from Mr Farey not to allow Struckmeyer into
the house, the constable remained quiet and listened intently. He
then heard Struckmeyer muttering as if he was talking to himself in
a drunken stupor. This muttering continued for about 15 minutes before
it stopped. Then, all remained quiet, except for the sound of continuing
light rain on the roof.
Burgemeister went back to sleep but arose at about 5am. After dressing,
he looked out through a window to see the blood-drenched body of Struckmeyer
laying face-up on the ground a short distance from one of Mr Farey’s
two vans.
Burgemeister aroused Tom Allbright, young Ernest Farey, and several
of the neighbours before he approached Struckmeyer’s body for a closer
examination. As he neared the body, he became certain that Struckmeyer
was dead.
Just a brief examination revealed that Struckmeyer had died quite
some time earlier. On his head, which lay in a large pool of blood,
were two substantial injuries.
Burgemeister immediately dispatched a rider to Angaston to summon
Senior Constable Dowling, and a doctor.
Dr Charles William Purves conducted an official examination of the
body. He later reported to a Coroner’s inquest that, apart from two
significant wounds to the head, and a small bruise on the point of
the left shoulder, the body showed no signs of violence.
The two incised wounds – both about 35mm long – on the top of Struckmeyer’s
head had penetrated his scalp, through to the bone. One was small,
but the other much larger and V-shaped.
Although the blows had been insufficiently powerful to fracture or
dislocate the bone at the seat of either wound, severe haemorrhaging
was evident in two places on the surface of the brain. The doctor
said this haemorrhaging was sufficient to have caused Struckmeyer’s
death.
He also said that, to sustain such injuries accidentally, Struckmeyer
would have to have fallen backward off of one of the vans and struck
his head on a tyre or the band of a nave.
Other evidence at the inquest seemed to give weight to rumour that
had circulated throughout the region.
Young Ernest Farey admitted he had had a heated argument with Struckmeyer,
but claimed their differences had been resolved and that they retained
a close friendship. But Ernest also said he was strongly opposed to
his sister, Harriet, marrying Struckmeyer. He regarded the man as
a suitable companion for himself, but an unsuitable husband for his
sister.
Burgemeister, told the inquiry he had spent the night at the Farey
residence on the night that Struckmeyer died. He said he was certain
that no one had entered or left the house that night.
After listening to two full days’ evidence, the jury of six faced
a daunting task: to decide how Struckmeyer had died, and whether anyone
was culpable in his death.
Was it Murder? And, if it was, who of the many likely candidates
was responsible?
Was it suicide? Could a man purposely self-inflict such fatal head
injuries by throwing himself from the seat of a van?
Was it an accident? Could a man, possibly under the influence of
laudanum, slip and fall from a van and sustain two such deadly wounds?
The jury took only 20 minutes to return with its verdict:
That the deceased came to his death in the opinion of this jury,
accidentally, and that the jury is not able to decide how he came
by the wounds, no blame being attached to anyone.
News of the verdict spread quickly and caused great consternation
– even as far away as Adelaide.
The then commissioner, Colonel Lewis George Madley, called almost
instantly for an inquiry into the case. He dispatched Sergeant Dechert
to the area for exactly that purpose.
But before Dechert arrived, a young journalist from The Advertiser
decided to initiate his own investigation. He had already reported
on the inquest.
The reporter had overheard some local men denouncing the accidental-death
verdict as absolute nonsense, and so spoke to them first. “It was
a foul murder,” one man proclaimed. The reporter found this to be
the sentiment among all the local people. But few would share their
views openly with him. He asked people who they suspected of murdering
Struckmeyer, but the response was always the shake of a head or shrug
of shoulders.
It became obvious, however, that most suspected William Farey. He
had, after all, had a recent, volatile dispute with Struckmeyer. He
also wanted to prevent his eldest daughter’s marriage to him.
And, according to the reporter’s information, Farey had hit a man
called Denneberg in the head with a shovel about 17 years earlier.
For this, he faced an assault charge but was found to have acted in
self-defence and cleared by Justice Boucaut.
For the Struckmeyer case, Farey had reliable witnesses to his presence
in Angaston, 35km away, at the time of the death.
Suspicion seemed to shift from Farey’s son, Ernest, with the evidence
of Burgemeister. He had slept in the Farey home – where Ernest had
been – on the night of the death, and claimed under oath that he would
have heard anyone leave or enter. He insisted no one had.
The settlers, when quizzed by the reporter, baulked at the suggestion
of suicide. They said Struckmeyer had called to see Harriet Farey
only a few hours before his death. As she was away from home at the
time, he left a note in the keyhole of her door. He had written not
of death, but of plans for the future.
Mareek Singh died just 11 days after the death of Struckmeyer, and
only about 55km from Sedan.
When itinerant horse-breaker and labourer, Frank Ward, was found
to be openly squandering a large amount of cash, it seemed likely
he had committed a robbery. Ward, well known throughout the small
towns of the Murray Flats northeast of Adelaide, also had a number
of new silk handkerchiefs, bootlaces, brushes, and other items, which
the police thought could “be reasonably assumed to have been stolen”.
In Eudunda, on Monday, February 12, 1899, Ward – supposedly without
money or luggage – wore a bright green silk neckcloth, which attracted
attention.
The next day he borrowed money from a friend for a ticket to board
the Morgan-bound train, on which he travelled to Mt Mary.
By Thursday, Ward had returned to Eudunda with a large bundle of
goods such as those that Afghan and Indian hawkers usually carried.
After that time, he seemed to have plenty of money, which he spent
freely at the hotel. This surprised many who knew he had earlier had
no money.
Ward openly showed his wares around. Before long, the police became
curious about the source of his sudden wealth and so questioned him
accordingly. He told the police he had bought the items from a hawker,
and had intended to resell them at a profit. The police, however,
knew Ward had earlier had no money with which to make such a purchase,
and so continued their interrogation.
Ward could answer none of Senior Constable Bushell’s many questions
satisfactorily, and so ended up in custody, charged with “having in
his possession goods and articles which might reasonably be supposed
to have been stolen”.
In the Eudunda police court on Friday, February 17, 1899, Dr Feige,
JP remanded Ward to the Adelaide Gaol for a week. This would give
the police the opportunity to pursue further their inquiries.
Constable Bushell learned that Ward seemed to have acquired his
new-found wealth after a recent stay in Mt Mary. That would be the
place, he thought, from which to launch his investigation.
He soon discovered that an Indian hawker had recently passed through
the small township but, then, seemingly vanished. Bushell sensed that
something truly sinister lay at the heart of the case, and so requested
a black tracker and additional police.
After some unfortunate delays, Mounted Constables Jordan from Eudunda
and Schmidt from Morgan joined Bushell, and an experienced tracker,
and began a careful search for the missing hawker.
A farmer named Schirmer told the police that an Indian hawker had
visited his farm on February 9. He had stayed overnight but, the next
morning, headed for the Bower railway siding with a basket and a bundle
containing goods of the type found in Ward’s possession.
The hawker’s tracks were several days old, but the keen-eyed tracker
had little trouble following them from the Schirmer farmhouse. Chiefly
on the main road, they (the tracks) headed back toward Mt Mary, instead
of turning right toward Bower.
The police party members had followed the tracks for about 1.5km
before they came upon a campsite. A farmer named Richard Cloak later
told them that Ward – whom he had employed to cut wood for one shilling
and sixpence per ton – had recently used the site.
In the campsite, the police found a bloodstained axe which Cloak
identified as the one he had given Ward to use. A bloodstained shirt,
later identified as Singh’s, was also discovered.
A series of bloodspots on the ground – upon which water had been
splashed in a seeming attempt to obliterate or disguise it – led the
police to Singh’s body. Someone had placed it in a shallow grave and
covered it with branches.
Singh, a man of about 60 and partially crippled, was born in the
Punjab, India. He was said to have landed in Victoria around 1893
and, for about six months, served as a hawker in and around the suburbs
of Melbourne. He then moved to Adelaide, where lived with some of
his compatriots in Hindley St.
Singh made frequent trips into the country and, on his latest one,
had been absent from Adelaide for about four months.
A Sikh of slight build, Singh wore his hair and beard long. His friends
and associates – who said he was extremely honest and trustworthy
in all business dealings – held him in high regard. He had worked
long and hard after arriving in Australia and, as a married man, had
regularly sent money back to his wife and children in India. He had
planned to return soon to be with them.
Immediately charged with Singh’s murder, Ward claimed to be 39.
Members of his family, however, said he was near 48.
Generally thought to have a low mental capacity, Ward was often referred
to as “Mad Frank” or “Balmy Frank”. But those who dealt with him invariably
found him to be straightforward.
A first-rate horse-rider, Ward had, in his teens, attracted much
attention on the racecourse. He had ridden many horses as an employee
of Mr Seth Ferry, and other distinguished horse-owners.
In a steeplechase at Mount Remarkable, Ward had ridden a horse called
Telegraph, which failed to take a fence and fell heavily. Ward, near
death and bleeding from his mouth, nose and ears, was carried from
the track. In critical condition, he remained unconscious for more
than three weeks.
He recovered from his injuries over several months, but continued
to complain of severe pain in his head. And his behaviour seemed to
indicate that the accident had diminished his mental ability. At times,
he even showed signs of madness.
After his convalescence, Ward continued to ride for a time but, eventually,
became a drifter. As he moved from job to job, he had run-ins with
the police and, it is believed, twice attempted suicide. He is also
believed to have served a prison sentence in NSW for bushranging.
Charged with Singh’s murder, Ward stood trial in the Supreme Court
in Adelaide. Revealed in the courtroom was that Singh had died from
two deep head wounds – which seemed to have been caused by an axe
– on or about February 10, 1899.
The bloodstained axe – found near Singh’s body and thought to have
caused the wounds – was identified as one given to Ward to chop firewood.
Also established was that:
- Singh had been murdered at the campsite.
- Ward had supposedly occupied the campsite at the time of the murder.
- Singh’s body had been moved a short distance away, placed in a
shallow grave and covered with branches.
This evidence, along with Ward’s possession of the dead hawker’s
goods, formed the prosecutor’s case against the weak-minded defendant.
But that weak-mindedness hindered Ward, as he could not mount a competent
enough defence – even to refute the flimsy, circumstantial evidence
against him.
Two doctors, allegedly experienced in cases of mental illness, had
previously examined Ward, and testified on his ability to determine
right from wrong. Their findings differed on almost every major point.
One claimed that the condition of homicidal mania would not preclude
an offender from trying to hide his or her crime. The other disagreed,
insisting that a homicidal mania sufferer – who did not know right
from wrong – would not attempt to hide an act he or she considered
acceptable or normal.
They also disagreed on whether a homicidal maniac would take possession
of the property of his or her victim. One doctor claimed that acts
committed under the influence of homicidal mania were totally motiveless.
This, the other doctor said, was not always the case.
During his confinement in Adelaide Gaol, Ward had often exercised
two imaginary horses that he called Darky and Gypsy. One doctor said
this was a clear indication of his unsound mind. The other disagreed,
suggesting it was simply Ward feigning insanity.
The jury found Ward insane and, therefore, not guilty. It added,
however, that he was “not a fit and proper person to be at large”.
The trial judge ordered Ward to “be returned to the Adelaide Gaol
and there be kept in custody until the Governor’s pleasure be known”.
On July 25, 1899, Ward was transferred to the Parkside Lunatic Asylum,
where he remained for 32 years and 11 months – until his death. One
of his progress reports read “(a) harmless, simple-minded man who
likes to work in the garden”.
So was this “harmless, simple-minded man” the axe-wielding murderer
who killed the poor, inoffensive Singh?
Did he, indeed, kill Frederick Struckmeyer just 11 days earlier?
Or might he have spent almost 33 years of his life in a mental institution
for a crime he did not commit?
