A Mystery in Mutton Town

 

In the 19th century, there was once a mining village south of Pittsburgh known as Mutton Town, which stood about a half-mile north of Coal Valley near present-day Jefferson Hills. This little community, hidden in a hollow, had a short but prosperous past, but, by the end of the century, Mutton Town had become deserted. It was a dark and gloomy place, dotted with ruins and decaying cabins, and was rumored to be quite haunted.

In the 1890s, many spook stories were told about the strange sights and sounds around Mutton Town after the sun dipped down behind the hills. Many of these stories centered around a large cottage that was formerly used as a boardinghouse. While a handful of miners occupied portions of the cottage over the years, there was always one apartment that was given a wide berth and sat unoccupied, and it was said there wasn't enough money in the world to convince someone to rent it. According to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette: Some of the miners said they had heard strange noises come from this department, and the children of the hamlet never played near this house.

And yet, in 1894, the cottage did manage to attract a new tenant. William Smith and his wife, strangers to the area, relocated to Mutton Town not knowing anything of the cottage's spooky reputation. On the morning of February 14, 1894, about a week after their arrival, Mrs. Smith was exploring the house and found a room she hadn't known about-- the mysterious room that everyone in the village avoided like the plague. The room was filled with dust, cobwebs, and piles of debris resulting from years of disuse, and as soon as she entered the dark, musty room Mrs. Smith felt an unnerving chill and immediately turned to leave. 

But then, her curiosity getting the better of her, Mrs. Smith decided to investigate a furnace in the far corner, to see if she could find a use for it. She thought perhaps the boiler could used for washing clothes. She bent down and began clearing away the rubbish which had accumulated around its feet, and when she reached behind the furnace she found something wrapped in and old blue checkered dress. She brought the bundle out into the light and began to unwrap it-- and screamed when she saw that the bundle contained the skeletal corpse of a baby.

Mrs. Smith ran off in search of her husband, who, in turn, raced to Coal Valley to spread the news. A telegraph was sent to Coroner McDowell, who set out for Mutton Town to investigate, accompanied by Deputy Coroner Mark Donley, a stenographer named Kane, and a reporter from the Post-Gazette. 

The Inquest

An inquest was held at the Smith home, where it was revealed that the cottage had been most recently occupied by Mrs. Mary Duncan and her family, who had moved to a new home further up the hollow. The coroner's jury paid a visit to the Duncans, but the mother wasn't home. Her daughters explained that she had gone to McKeesport to do some shopping. The oldest daughter (also named Mary), could think of no reason how the skeleton got there, as they never used the boiler room when they lived in the cottage. But she thought there might be someone who could shed some light on the mystery-- her 21-year-old sister Annie.

Annie Duncan had been living with a man named Andrew Frazier until the previous June, when she returned to the Duncan home ill. She was confined to her bed, though Mary said that no doctor had been called to examine her. Mary identified the blue dress as her own, though she hadn't seen it in months. Another sister, Samantha, was questioned and she corroborated Mary's story, adding that the last time she had seen the blue dress was in the sick room during Annie's illness.

 
The Arrest of Annie Duncan

Meanwhile, Annie Duncan was visiting friends in Homestead. She was getting ready to go on a sleigh ride with a young gentleman when Deputy Coroner Donley showed up at the house. Donley pulled her aside into a private room, and she seemed greatly surprised when she learned of the baby's skeleton found in her former home. She professed to have no knowledge of the matter, but when Donley told her that he would have to take her to Pittsburgh for questioning, Annie grew hysterical.

Deputy Coroner Donely did not let her friends in Homestead know about the reason for his visit, and he got Annie out of town without tipping off her boyfriend, whom he planned to question separately. Once outside of Homestead, she was rowed across the Monongahela River to the Second Avenue trolley. When they arrived at the Allegheny County Jail, Coroner McDowell was waiting there with the necessary papers for her detention. At the jail, she accused her boyfriend, Joseph A. Stokes of Coal Valley, of coercing her into killing the baby. Stokes, who acknowledged being the child's father, was eventually apprehended by County Detective Harry Beltzhoover, while Annie was charged with infanticide and concealing a dead body to prevent identification.

Charges Dropped

On February 17, at a hearing before Alderman Gripp,  Annie Duncan was exonerated, as it was impossible to determine from evidence whether or not the infant was dead or alive when it came out of the womb. Ultimately, she was found guilty of the minor offense of concealing a birth, while Joseph Stokes was convicted on a morals charge of fornication.

The truth of what really happened to the unfortunate infant whose bundled bones were found behind a furnace will never be known, though rumors of murder only added to the air of mystery surrounding the mining camp of Mutton Town, cementing the reputation of the allegedly haunted cottage where children and adults alike dared not tread. Not surprisingly, Mr. and Mrs. William Smith abandoned the cottage not long afterward, and today there is no trace of the cabins and shacks where hardy woodsmen, rugged miners-- and perhaps even murderers-- once lived.

 
 

Sources:

Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Feb. 15, 1894.
Pittsburgh Press, Feb. 15, 1894.  
Pittsburgh Press, Feb. 16, 1894.
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Feb. 16, 1894.
Pittsburgh Press, Feb. 18, 1894.