Buried Alive: The Murder of Mary Newlin

Mary Newlin

 

On a sunny Sunday in June, 1907, a pretty little girl with golden hair walked the short distance home from her grandfather's farm near the village of Avondale. Accompanying five-year-old Mary Robbins Newlin was her little sister, Fannie. At a fork in the road where an old, abandoned church stood, the sisters parted and it was at this lonesome spot where Mary was last seen alive, clutching a loaf of freshly-baked bread she had been given by her grandparents in one hand and a harmonica-- her favorite toy-- in the other.

It was believed by District Attorney MacElree, after interviewing members of the Newlin family, that Mary had been either kidnapped or, worse, assaulted and murdered by some fiend lurking in the shadows of the abandoned chapel. On the evening of Wednesday, June 19, the district attorney and his assistant, H.L. Sproat, met with the grandparents and pored over every aspect of the case. John Newlin was a well-to-do farmer, and the Newlin name was one that was respected throughout Chester County; Ellis Newlin, a brother of Mary's grandfather, was the long time proprietor of the Madison House in West Chester, and other members of the family were regarded as upstanding pillars of the community. This, of course, caused Sproat and MacElree to ponder the possibility of a kidnapping. But, when no ransom demands were proffered, the district attorney and his assistant began to fear for the worst.

MacElree and Sproat also met with the girl's stepfather, Irwin Lewis, who lived an eighth of a mile from the farm of John Newlin. It was to Lewis' home where Mary had been heading when she disappeared. Lewis immediately called for a search of the countryside, adamant that his stepdaughter had been slain and her body hidden near the scene of her disappearance. The terrain was hilly and the farmlands were flanked by swaths of forest, but concerned citizens formed a search party and searched through the night, guided by the lantern of Irwin Lewis. Meanwhile, Constable George Timanus of Avondale led his own party of fifteen searchers through the countryside, but no sign of the missing girl could be found.

But there was something strange about Irwin Lewis, though District Attorney MacElree couldn't quite put his finger on it. Was it possible that Lewis knew more about his stepdaughter's fate than he had been letting on? MacElree thought so, and, to satisfy his suspicions, he kept a close eye on Lewis, confident that he alone had sufficient motive and opportunity to commit the heinous deed.

At sunrise the following morning, MacElree assembled his team of searchers on the Lewis farm, just as he had done the previous evening. However, when MacElree split his party into two teams and instructed one to search the Lewis property, Irwin protested, arguing that every inch of his farm had been gone over thoroughly the previous day. Reluctantly, he agreed to assist the search party in their efforts, but his reaction only cemented the district attorney's suspicions. MacElree ordered Lewis to accompany the other party, leaving John Shelley and John O'Brien in charge of the party searching the Lewis farm.

Shelley and O'Brien also suspected Irving Lewis of murdering his stepdaughter, and after Lewis had disappeared with MacElree, they began a focused search on a part of the property where they believed the girl's body had been buried. It was a spot near the barn they had seen the night before, a spot where the soil looked to have been recently disturbed. Shelley and O'Brien began digging, and it did not take them long to uncover the ghastly evidence of Irwin Lewis' crime.

Daylight revealed that Mary Newlin had been strangled with a piece of tarred rope, the kind used by farmers to tie up bundles of wheat. The rope had been doubly knotted, and was sunk deep into the flesh of the girl's neck when her body was found. A burlap sack had been placed over the head, and clutched firmly in her hand was a toy harmonica. It must have been this item, the one possession which little Mary prized above all others, that she had held onto desperately like a sacred talisman as the last breaths of life escaped from her tiny body.

 

 

Shelley and O'Brien left the barn to relay the news of their gruesome find to Constable Timanus, who, in turn, relayed the message to District Attorney MacElree while Irwin Lewis was out of earshot. MacElree convinced Lewis to follow the men back to the farm. Leading the way to a grove of trees, the district attorney stopped abruptly, wheeled around, and said, "Lewis, the body of the child has been found buried near the barn on your farm."

At this announcement, Lewis turned deathly pale and appeared to stagger; the blood drained from his lips, and his skin instantly turned the color of chalk. Shelley and O'Brien thought for a moment that Lewis was going to faint.

"Why did you kill that innocent little girl?" demanded the district attorney.

"No, no!" Lewis protested. "My God! I didn't do it!"

"You murderer!" roared MacElree, who looked as if he were about to strangle Lewis with his bare hands. "You murderer! You dog! Why did you murder that little child?"

In the eerie stillness of the countryside nothing stirred, and the only sound that could be heard was the gurgling in Lewis' throat as he fumbled for words. "I didn't do it," was all he could manage to blurt out. Constable Timanus led the young man to a waiting buggy, where a small crowd had already assembled. The accused killer spotted his father, Harry Lewis, in the crowd. "Father, help me!" pleaded Irwin. "I never killed little Mary. I always loved her and waited at home, but she did not come. Now they tell me I killed her. I did not! Oh, Lord, save me, save me!"

Mr. Lewis declared that his son was not the killer. "I know Irwin is innocent!" he shouted at the crowd. "The boy didn't do it, nor did I."

The constable transported Lewis a short distance to the scene of the crime, where the girl's mother was sobbing hysterically. "My baby!" she screamed, "Oh, my baby!" She fainted as she heard the buggy approach. A physician was summoned, but as soon as Mrs. Lewis had regained consciousness, she fell into hysterics and fainted again. Someone in the crowd asked Irwin if his father had anything to do with the death of Mary Newlin, but he declared that it must have been a tramp who had murdered his stepdaughter.

John Shelley, a neighboring farmer, later described the discovery of the body. "I own the strip of land beside Lewis' barn, right near where the body was found. Two months ago Lewis dug two holes for refuse. One of these he had filled up several weeks ago, but the other one was left open until only a few days ago. This aroused my suspicions.

"When we searched the place on Thursday we noticed this hole had been filled up with recently turned dirt, and on Friday morning we set to work to dig it up. Soon after the spades had sunk into the dirt we turned over something white. It was the corner of the child's dress, and the belt was found next."

 

 

Shortly after two o'clock, Deputy Coroner Dickson arrived from Kennett Square and immediately empaneled a jury comprised of neighboring farmers and began the inquest. After viewing the corpse and listening to the statements of the men who had found the body, the jury returned a verdict declaring that Mary Newlin came to her death by the hands of Irwin Lewis.

District Attorney MacElree later said that his most important clue was revealed after he had dug into Mrs. Lewis' past. Five years earlier, Edna Newlin had been employed as a nurse at the Chester County Insane Asylum, where she met and fell in love with an orderly named Lawrence Butler. They were to be married, but Butler skipped town before their wedding day, leaving Edna alone and pregnant. She returned to the home of her father, John Newlin, where the child was born. Irwin and Edna had been childhood sweethearts, and he had known all about Edna's romance with Lawrence Butler, but five months after Butler ditched his bride-to-be, Irwin agreed to marry her and raise the baby girl as his own. However, the presence of little Mary was a constant cause of irritation to Irvin Lewis, or so supposed MacElree, and this was the motive for his callous crime. 

Under the cover of darkness, so as not to expose the accused killer to the justice of an angry mob, Constable Timanus delivered Lewis to the Avondale jail, and every effort was made by authorities to keep the fact hidden. The Avondale lock-up was hardly more than a shack adjoining the village firehouse, and it wouldn't have taken much force if vigilantes had planned to storm the facility.

 

 

However, a loose-tongued guard let it be known that Irwin Lewis inside, and this forced MacElree to lie to the press and deny the rumors. Nevertheless, business around town was practically suspended, as hundreds flocked to the jail, eager to catch a glimpse of Lewis. Authorities also did their best to keep the time and location of Mary Newlin's funeral a secret. The child's body was taken to a Kennett Square undertaker in an unmarked wagon and hastily buried at the family plot at Union Hill Cemetery. 

MacElree also thought it wise not to divulge the details of the coroner's autopsy report-- for if this information had leaked out, surely there would be a lynching in Avondale. Physicians who examined the body found that it had been covered from head to toe in bruises, injuries which had been caused by vicious blows from a closed fist. Mary had also been struck on the head with a force sufficient to cause a cerebral hemorrhage. Based upon the evidence, MacElree believe that Mary had been sitting by the barn playing her harmonica when she was attacked.

Meanwhile, Irwin Lewis was begging the guard, Tim Maloney, to protect him from the mob that had made its way to the Avondale jail. "My God, don't let them get at me!" pleaded Lewis. It was apparent to Maloney that his prisoner would never be able to hold up under the strain; Lewis reportedly broke into fits of hysterical laughter, mingled with tears. When it came time for Lewis to be transported to the county jail at West Chester, the prisoner refused to go outside. "Those men will kill me," he wept. Constable Timanus had to sneak Lewis out the back door while guards created a diversion in front of the jail.

At Kennett Square the constable ordered Lewis onto a trolley bound for West Chester. As fate would have it, the trolley tracks passed right alongside Union Hill Cemetery, and as the trolley slowly crawled past the freshly-filled grave with its little mound of dirt, Lewis grew inconsolable, attempting to shield him face with his manacled hands. Word of his arrival had preceded him, and when the trolley stopped in front of the county jail at the corner of New and Market Streets, Lewis found another angry mob waiting for him. The crowds lingered around the building for hours; it wasn't until late in the evening of Sunday, June 23, that they were finally dispersed by officers.

 

MacElree Builds His Case

While the district attorney began plotting his case on behalf of the commonwealth, Lewis found himself in the hands of two very capable defense attorneys, Thomas Pierce and William Windle. The defense seemed to based its hopes around the possibility that Lewis might be spared from the gallows because of MacElree's over-exuberance. Pierce and Windle, who were related to the accused killer, had attempted to visit their client at Avondale-- as they had every legal right to do-- but were turned away by Constable Timanus. "You can't see him," the constable had declared. "Those are the instructions I have received."

"By who's authority do you refuse us permission to see Lewis?" demanded Pierce.

"By the authority of the district attorney," Timanus replied.

Pierce and Windle were incensed to discover that MacElree had not only forbidden them access to their client, but had immediately left for a vacation in Delaware before the defense counsel had a chance to confront him. Next they went to the Lewis farm, and with the help of Irwin's father, began to formulate an alibi for their client. This was not an easy task, as Lewis had already told authorities that he had been alone of the farm feeding the chickens at the time of his stepdaughter's murder. But things began to look up for Windle and Pierce when a neighbor farmer, Henry Jacobs, revealed that he had seen two unknown men prowling about the barn on the day of the murder. The same men had also been seen by Lewis' aunt, but their identity has never been ascertained.

MacElree, of course, could argue that this only suggested that Lewis may not have acted alone; for authorities had already found the loaf of bread which Mary had been carrying in a bag inside the Lewis home, and both Irwin and his wife had told the district attorney previously that Mary had never arrived home after leaving her grandfather's farm. So how did the bread get there? MacElree hinted to the press that he had many other "trump cards" up his sleeve that would ultimately hang Irwin Lewis.

 

The Fate of Irwin Lewis

Raving and declaring his innocence, Irwin Lewis became so violent in jail that he was put in a straightjacket by the prison physician, Dr. Scattergood. But this did not prevent his return to Avondale the following morning for the inquest before Justice Lipp. After an impressive presentation of evidence by District Attorney MacElree, Lewis took the witness stand and told a wild story.

"Yes, it is true that I went over to my home at five o'clock on Sunday a week ago. Little Mary Newlin was in the wagon shed when I got there. She fell out of the window, and she was dead when I went to her," explained the young farmer. "I was afraid, and I pulled a bag over her head, then tied a string around her neck and buried her in the hole back of the barn. My God, what will my father think, and what will my mother and my wife think when they hear this?"

But MacElree could not be fooled. Jaws dropped to the floor when the district attorney declared, "This man buried little Mary Newlin while she was yet alive!" He called to the stand Dr. Gifford, who testified that Mary's death had not been caused by her external injuries, but that she had succumbed to the torture of being buried alive. At these words, the five hundred men and women in attendance began shouting for Lewis' blood, and Justice Lipp cleared the room before arraigning Lewis and remanding him to prison to await trial.

Although the trial was set to begin in October of 1907, legal wrangling forced the postponement of the case until January of the following year, in the defense's futile attempt to have Lewis examined by a lunacy commission. The murder trial concluded on January 31, with the fate of Irwin Lewis resting in the hands of a jury. The insanity defense was a failure, and Lewis was found guilty of murdering five-year-old Mary Newlin. The date of his execution was fixed for February 25, 1909.

Lewis was hanged at 10:07 that morning at the Chester County jail, but not before his uncle made a last-ditch effort to save the killer's life. As the scaffold was being prepared, Curtis Lewis sent a telegram to Governor Stuart, reading: Can't you interfere at the last moment in behalf of Irwin A. Lewis? Do so, I beg of you, in the name of humanity.

No response was received. In all likelihood, the governor had never even read the telegram. In the meantime, Lewis busied himself giving away his worldly possessions; to his father he bequeathed $800 in savings, and to his brother Wayne he gave a watch and chain. He then walked to the gallows without a quiver of fear, and paid for his crime with his life.

Less than an hour before his execution, Irwin Lewis made a final statement:

"If I am guilty of this I put it all into God's hands to forgive me, for if I did this I have no recollection of it. I never could have borne up through all these trials if I had had a feeling of guilt. I talked to God last night just as though I were talking to Him in person. I asked Him to give peace and loving kindness to all. I hope little Dorothy will grow up to be a good useful woman. I feel prepared to meet my Saviour face to face, and fully believe I'll meet my dear ones that have gone before up yonder. I die forgiving all my enemies."

Dorothy, a daughter born to Irwin and Edna Lewis on Independence Day of 1904-- just two weeks after Mary's death-- proved to live up to her father's wishes, passing away peacefully in Massachusetts in 2000, at the age of 92. Edna Newlin Lewis eventually remarried and moved to Massachusetts, where she remained until her death in 1955 at the age of 75. After the execution, Irwin's body was taken to Kennett Square for burial at Union Hill Cemetery, the same graveyard where Mary Newlin had been laid to rest.

 




Sources:


Reading Times, June 20, 1907.
Carlisle Sentinel, June 22, 1907.
Lancaster New Era, June 22, 1907.
Philadelphia Inquirer, June 23, 1907.
Scranton Tribune, June 24, 1907.
Lancaster New Era, June 25, 1907.
Lancaster New Era, Feb. 27, 1909.