Probably Homicide, The Edward Morrissey Story, Part 1

This is the story of three murders. None of these murders were really solved although it would have been rather easy. Instead, with a healthy dose of indifference, they were all lost to time.

It is a fascinating story on so many levels. It is a story worth dredging up.

I was 8 years old when we arrived in Butte, Montana. It was the summer of 1969. Coming from a little sleepy farming town on flat earth in eastern Montana, Butte looked absolutely cosmopolitan. There were storefronts of almost every variety. Famous stores like Hennessey's. Bakeries like Gamer's and Town Talk. Bars and taverns were everywhere. The Board of Trade, M and M, the Terminal Bar. People were out and about, walking everywhere at all hours of the day and night. It was a two-block stroll from the bars on Park St to the whorehouses on Mercury St. Butte miners did a lot of strolling. The booze poured 24 hours a day. Gambling, which was allegedly illegal in Montana, was done out in the open in Butte bars. I watched poker games and even punched a few punchboards as a child. Law enforcement was nowhere to be found. This was all part of the tapestry. It was by design.

The Anaconda Company owned everything. They owned the hill, all the mines, the railways and smelter, they owned virtually every Montana newspaper, they owned the politicians, they owned the judges, they owned the Butte cops, and they even owned the miners. In the old days, the Company used "rustling cards" to identify union sympathizers and to prevent them from being employed.

Two other items of note before we move on. 

Virtually all of the newspapers in Montana were owned by the Anaconda Copper Company. This monopolistic effect had a huge impact on everything. People obtained their news through only one source. There was no other way of influencing people. No radio, no television, no cellphones, no computers. No public discourse. In 1917, you were fed the propaganda that the Company and Percy Rockefeller wanted you to hear. The Company, which we called it, ruled everything. If you didn't carry their water, they'd crush you. 

The antagonist in this story were the unions. The only way to fight the Company was to unionize. The Company hated the unions. They even planted spies amongst the union members at union halls and meetings to identify the biggest antagonists. It was the Company v the miners. It was an epic David v Goliath story only David wasn't going to win this battle.

Thus, the story of Edward Morrissey begins here. The year is 1917. World War One has begun. Copper is in huge demand. The price had never been higher. The Company was virtually in control of world copper supply with a huge, dominant share of the market.

The Company exploited miners. Miner's unions were largely responsible for reducing a workday from 12 hours to 8.  Mining was all done underground in 1917. The Company is making one million dollars a day which is an absolutely unheard of amount of money in those days. While the Company and it's officers are becoming obscenely rich, they are also attempting to cut the wages of thousands of miners from 3.50 a day to 3.00. It is a powder keg waiting to explode.

Edward Morrissey

Edward Morrissey was born in Ireland on Christmas Day, 1874. He immigrated to America. It is known that Edward Morrissey fought for America in the Spanish American War. It is also believed that he shot himself in the arm to escape the conflict. He was 24 in 1898. Like many Irish American immigrants, he landed in Butte at the turn of the century or slightly thereafter.

Morrissey went to work for the Company in the early 1900's. It is unknown where and what he did for the Company but it is very likely that during this time, he formed all of the contacts and business associates he needed to eventually become employed by the Butte Police Department. This probably occurred around 1907-1908. 

Morrissey was a short, compact man. He was quick tempered and violent. He was also an alcoholic. By all accounts he was just a mean, angry man who enjoyed fighting. The accounts of Morrissey that I've read don't use the term "asshole", but I think you get the gist of it.

Morrissey was a fixture in the Crown Bar on West Park.

The Butte Police Chief was also an immigrant from Ireland. He had worked for Marcus Daly and the Company. Jeremiah Murphy, or "Jere the Wise" bounced back and forth amongst Butte Mayors but finally landed a permanent role as Chief in 1909. He enjoyed a strong reputation and was credible. It was probably Murphy's reputation and credibility that enabled Edward Morrissey not only to survive but to become Chief of Detectives for the Butte Police Department.

Murphy worked for the Butte Police Department for 40 years. He died in the line of duty while wrestling with a suspect in 1935. He fell and cracked his skull on a marble floor. I have stood on that floor. Like so many Butte stories, Jeremiah Murphy left more questions than answers. How good of friends were Murphy and Morrissey? Who was Murphy wrestling with in 1935? What happened to that guy? His name is never mentioned. He was charged with carrying a concealed weapon and sentenced to 30 days in jail according to the Montana Peace Officer Memorial. Still, why the mystery?

Here is a delightful link that will give you an idea of how fondly Butte thought of Murphy. You'd think Murphy was some sort of super hero with secret powers. Realistically, I think a lot of these column inches are pure nonsense. But in those days, you didn't speak ill of the dead. (please ignore the obvious mistakes in the title) http://mtgenweb.com/silverbow/jere_murphy.htm

These were the answers I was searching for in 2016. I had two weeks. I was back in Butte, my childhood home, to solve a murder. It had been 99 years since Frank Little was dragged behind a car, strung up on a train trestle west of town, and strangled. The killers left a cryptic note, a murderous warning, pinned to his body. 

A lot of bizarre and horrible events happened in Butte during the summer of 1917. The death of Frank Little might have been the last of them. It was the outcome the Company needed. 

This is a picture of N. Wyoming (316) and Norah Byrne's boardinghouse. Frank Little would be kidnapped and ultimately killed from here at 3 a.m., August 1, 1917. Across the street and just a little north is O'Briens Tavern. (two story brick, no longer standing) This is where two men watched the  whole event. They were in a great position, less than 100 feet away. Their statements regarding the Cadillac, the number of men, the direction of travel, and dragging Frank Little away- were absolutely key to solving this crime. Thanks to Jane Little Botkin, back cover photo, Frank Little and the IWW.