The Murder of Agnes Cooper Wright

A Message from the Author: For several years, the Pennsylvania Oddities blog has endeavored to entertain readers with true stories of the most fascinating and shocking crimes and murders in the history of our state. However, there have been rare occasions when I have researched a crime that was so revolting that I contemplated whether or not it was suitable to publish. The following story, concerning the 1893 murder of Agnes Cooper Wright in Dauphin County, is one of those stories. Because of the nature of the victim's death, the story you are about to read may not be appropriate for some audiences.

So, why publish it? Well, for starters, as a historian, I believe I have a duty to tell the unblemished truth behind a historical event of local significance. But, secondly, and more importantly, I believe that telling stories-- especially stories about tragedy and murder-- is the best way to keep alive the memory of those unfortunate victims whose lives were cut short through no fault of their own. 

These innocent victims-- as well as their not-so-innocent killers-- deserve to be remembered. All too often, when we read about those who are long-dead, or read the names carved upon headstones in a cemetery, we tend to lose sight of the fact that these were not fictional characters conceived in the imagination of a writer, but real human beings comprised of flesh and blood, who lived and breathed, who hoped and dreamed and toiled and wept, who fell in love and out of love, and endured the slings, arrows and heartbreaks that are part of the human condition. And while they may no longer have descendants who remember them, and though they may not be mentioned in history books or immortalized in bronze, their lives had meaning, and by sharing their stories-- no matter how disturbing or violent-- it is my fervent hope that their memory will continue to survive.

 

On a warm, sunny morning in September of 1893, teacher David Beamsderfer stood in his one-room schoolhouse in Stoverdale, waiting for his pupils to arrive. It was a rare occurrence that classes began on time; many of the children had to walk a considerable distance through the woods and over the sandy hills south of Hummelstown to reach the schoolhouse. When the bell finally rang on the morning of Tuesday, September 19, Mr. Beamsderfer took roll call, noticing that one little girl was absent.

Agnes Cooper Wright had left her home in Derry Township at around seven o'clock that morning, with her schoolbooks tucked under one arm and her lunch basket swinging from the other. To reach the school, nine-year-old Agnes had to walk two and a half miles along a hilly dirt road winding through a long stretch of dense forest. But Agnes knew a shortcut; about a half mile from the Wright home there was a side path through a dark hollow. Though narrower than the main road and flanked on both sides by underbrush so dense it choked out the sunlight, this path would shorten Agnes' journey by a considerable length. The path would eventually come out at the road between Stoverdale and Round Top, which, to the casual observer, must've looked like a smoking volcano looming in the distance, thanks to the numerous charcoal furnaces which had been constructed there to provide the fuel for the local iron furnaces and limekilns.

At this point, where the side trail connected to the main highway, the lonesome road made a slight turn, as if to swerve out of the way of the rugged nothingness which seemed to surround it on every side. It was here, in this seldom-visited spot, where a predator lay waiting in the shadows.

At 6:20 that evening, Arthur Cooper Wright arrived home from another exhausting day of work at Allen Walton's quarry where he worked as a "scabbler", chiseling the blocks of brown sandstone for which Hummelstown was famous. Like many of Walton's top employees, Arthur Wright was a native of England, where he had learned the masonry trade. It was this abundance of English and Scots-Irish stonemasons which allowed Walton's Hummelstown Brownstone Company to produce some of the highest-quality building blocks in the world; by 1910, over 400 courthouses, mansions, churches and other buildings across the country had been constructed with blocks hewn from Walton's quarries. When his wife, Margaret, told him that Agnes had not returned home, Arthur was not overly concerned; it was not uncommon for the girl to visit her uncle's farm after school.

However, as it grew late, Arthur went to his brother's farm to fetch his daughter but was shocked to learn that she had not gone there. The Wrights spread the alarm to their neighbors and a search party was hastily organized. Armed with lanterns they scoured the woods and hills, they shone their lamps into the quarries and sand pits, wondering if the girl had stumbled in the darkness into one of the chasms. It was Barney Eisenhower, one of Arthur's co-workers from the Walton quarry, who finally discovered the body at around eight o'clock.

 

A Biased Search For An Unbiased Monster

Though just nine years old, Agnes Cooper Wright was unusually tall and attractive for her age. Although the identity of the killer had yet to be discovered, it was evident from the condition of the body just what his motive had been. The deep bruises on her thighs told the gruesome tale, as did the girl's underwear, which had been tightly knotted around her neck. The body was badly lacerated, proving that the girl had thrashed about madly in the thorny underbrush as she gasped for breath while her attacker strangled her. The body had been found about twenty-five yards from the main road, deep in the brush where the surrounding vegetation had been trampled flat, indicating that the killer had been waiting for his prey. Her books and lunch basket, along with her hat, were found across the road, leading authorities to believe that she had been ambushed, then dragged across the dirt path to the spot where she was violated and subsequently murdered. The men in search party vowed on the spot that they would not wait for the law to bring the killer to justice-- they would see to it themselves.
But who in the vicinity was depraved enough to commit such a fiendish act? 

Upon learning of the death of Agnes Cooper Wright, newspaper reporters were quick to point the finger at one of the many Italian and Hungarian immigrants or black laborers who worked at the quarries. The thought that such an act could be carried out by a fellow with a good old-fashioned Anglo-Saxon name like Stansfield or Hawthorne seemed inconceivable; naturally, it had to have been the work of a foreigner or a black man. A reporter from the Harrisburg Telegraph raced to the scene of the crime the following morning and the paper's editor, without any evidence, was quick to print the headline: KILLED BY A HUN.

This anti-immigrant bias was shared by dozens of other Pennsylvania newspapers. The Reading Times wrote, "it is supposed the fiend who committed the crime was a Hungarian laborer," while the Lebanon Daily News went one step further and all suggested that the girl's killer might have been "a demented Hungarian" from Blair County who had been arrested in that city the day after the murder for carrying a knife in public. Throwing such things as evidence and probable cause out the window, the Daily News concluded its reporting by stating that the Hungarian man in question "should not be allowed to roam our streets when his few days' sentence has expired". The September 28, 1893 edition of the Carlisle Weekly Herald (which went into print after Agnes' non-Hungarian killer had already confessed to the crime), boldly printed the erroneous headline: OUTRAGED BY A HUNGARIAN NEAR HUMMELSTOWN 

Oddly enough, few of the papers demonstrating this anti-immigrant bias pointed out that the grieving parents of the innocent victim were immigrants themselves; however, the Lebanon Daily News did print a retraction of sorts the following day, stating that rumors of the crime having been committed by a "Hungarian or negro" were unsubstantiated.

 

 

When the body was discovered, Dr. W.C. Baker telegraphed the district attorney, Meade D. Detweiler, who immediately dispatched Detective Samuel J. Anderson and County Detectice Spitler to the scene. Meanwhile, Coroner Hoy held an inquest at the Wright home that evening, with several neighbors called to testify. Hoy heard testimony from George Hoffen, Lizzie Hoffen, Lincoln Gardner, Abner Hummel, George James, Levi Manbeck, David Boyer, John Carmany, William Reigle and Mrs. Cooper, but none recalled seeing any strangers in the vicinity of Sand Hill that day. One possible clue came from the testimony of William Reigle, who said that Agnes Cooper Wright hadn't shown up that morning to pick up the two Reigle children on her way to school, as was her custom. This meant that Agnes had been attacked just ten minutes or so after leaving her house, and that the killer had a head start of over twelve hours. If the killer was to be caught, the detectives would have to come up with a plan very quickly.

 

Tennis The Terrible

Upon listening to the testimony given by neighbors, Detectives Anderson and Spitler were convinced that the fiend who had sexually assaulted and strangled Agnes Cooper Wright could only have been a local man. They turned their thoughts to local characters of less-than-stellar reputation, and one man in particular seemed to fit the bill. This suspect was an itinerant farm laborer named Benjamin Tennis. Illiterate, ill-tempered and impoverished, this fellow never seemed to be employed for any length of time and had been a thorn in the side to many of the families who lived in the vicinity. His wife having died a few years earlier and his younger children having been taken to the orphanage, Tennis no longer had a permanent address; his home was whatever dilapidated shanty he could find. He also knew the many paths and side trails around the quarries, which meant that he-- unlike the immigrant laborers-- was intimately familiar with the "lay of the land". 

In order to track down the suspect, the detectives had to go undercover. Dressed as farmers and passing themselves off as day laborers, Anderson and Spitler went job hunting.

On Thursday, September 21, Agnes Cooper Wright was laid to rest at the Wright family plot at St. Mary's Catholic Cemetery in Middletown, where the Wright family's handsome monument of Hummelstown brownstone still presents a striking contrast to the alabaster and marble slabs surrounding it.

 

The Wright family plot in Middletown

 
Benjamin Tennis Confesses

Posing as farm laborers, detectives found Benjamin Tennis working as a corn cutter on the farm of Adam Strickler. They waited for an opportunity to confront the suspected killer, but this meant that, first, they would have to separate him from the deadly scythe he was holding in his hand. Luckily, this did not prove too difficult. From the looks if it, it was evident to the detectives that Tennis didn't have much skill with the tool, and one of the detectives told Tennis that if he gave him the scythe, he would show him how to use it correctly. The ploy worked. After Tennis handed over the blade, the detectives introduced themselves and placed the suspect under arrest.

"I know nothing about the murder!" Tennis protested, though his skin had suddenly turned pale. "I didn't do it." 

"Can you stand before the Redeemer and say you are not guilty?" demanded one of the detectives. At this, the suspect broke into tears.

"Yes, I did kill the little girl, but I didn't want to," sobbed Tennis as he was placed into a carriage bound for the Dauphin County jail. 

During the trip to Harrisburg, Tennis spoke openly of his crime. He said that he had made frequent indecent proposals to the girl for several weeks at a spring near his home. Tennis, who was forty-three years of age at the time, lived with his two adult sons in a shanty about one hundred yards from the Wright family. Benjamin Tennis had gone so far as to nail boards over the Wright's well, thereby forcing Agnes to walk across Tennis' property in order to fetch water from the spring. 

Agnes had stopped at the spring for a drink of water on her long walk to school on the morning of September 19. Benjamin Tennis was waiting for her. Taking advantage of the isolated location, he clapped his hand over her mouth and dragged her into a thicket by the roadside. His assault had caused her to bleed profusely; she had lost so much blood, in fact, that she was too weak to stand up, so Tennis stood her up against a tree in order to continue his despicable deed. The September 27, 1893 edition of the Lebanon Daily News describes what happened next:

Not being satisfied, he dragged her through the bushes and assaulted her again. All the while she struggled heroically for her honor, but he overcame her. Little Agnes uttered these words which no doubt cost her her life. "I am going to tell on you for this." Without another word the villain took off her lower undergarments and, carefully wiping all the blood from himself, tied the same about her throat and strangled her to death.

According to Tennis, after murdering the girl, he immediately went to her uncle's farm and spent the afternoon whitewashing for Mr. Cooper. He was still at Cooper's farm when Arthur Cooper Wright came looking for his daughter later that evening. It was Benjamin Tennis himself who offered to put together a search party and go looking for her, which may help explain why he had managed to avoid arousing suspicion.

 

Indicted For Murder In The First Degree

District Attorney Detweiler wasted no time bringing Tennis into court, where he was indicted by a grand jury on a charge of murder in the first degree. He plead guilty to the charge on the morning of September 27 before Judge McPherson, who had appointed David L. Kauffman and Robert B. Wallace as counsel for the defendant. There really wasn't much the defense attorneys could do; because Tennis had freely admitted his guilt, despite their instructions to the contrary, the trial would be little more than a formality. The judge remanded him to jail until such time as the sentence was handed down and everyone, including Benjamin Tennis, knew that the penalty would be death.

When Tennis was transported back to jail, he found a mob of two thousand angry men and women waiting for him. Although there were chants calling for the killer's lynching, cooler heads prevailed, though, by all accounts, Tennis' night in cell number three on the ground floor of the Dauphin County Jail was an uneasy one. The gravity of the situation seemed to have hit him all at once. He requested a visit from his children, and his two adult sons, William and Joseph, were brought into the jail the following morning by Sheriff Buser. When Joseph Tennis asked his father if he had really committed the crime, he just replied, "Joe, I won't tell you anything now."

In the following days, knowing that his time among the living was short, Tennis requested visits from all seven of his children. This proved to be a logistical nightmare; because of the family's poverty, all but two of Benjamin's children had been taken from his custody and placed in the care of Sand Hill neighbors over the years. The oldest child, Joe, was 21 but had been living with the family of Martin Ebersole. William, 19, and Dora, 17, were living with the Aaron Coble family. Benjamin, 14, made his home with John Tutweiler. Jerome, who was not yet old enough to work, was at the orphanage in Middletown. Sadie, 10, and the youngest child, Tommy, age 7, had been adopted by the family of John Rupp.

Tommy was the only child, apart from Benjamin's two adult sons, who visited the jail. John Rupp took Tommy to visit his father on September 28, but the seven-year-old boy had to be carried into the building kicking and screaming. He knew Mr. Tennis not as a father, but as one of the many neighbors from the Sand Hill community. This made for an awkward meeting; when the little boy finally met his father, all he could say was, "Hello, Ben."

 

The Turbulent Life Of Benjamin F. Tennis

The only possible chance Benjamin had of escaping the gallows was to be found insane, but even the killer's attorneys balked at this strategy. Benjamin himself scoffed at the notion, and both adult sons declared their father was perfectly sane. Yet, as the life story of Benjamin Tennis unfolded, there were some who couldn't help but pity the pathetic figure whose remaining length of time on earth could be measured in days, not years. For some, Benjamin's plight served as a morality lesson; parents warned their children to go to school and work hard, or else they, too, might end up like the terrible Mr. Tennis.

Benjamin was born on the sand hills near Stoverdale on November 15, 1850. He was one of twelve children born to Samuel and Elizabeth Tennis. Seven of these children were already dead by the time Benjamin committed his vicious crime, and both parents had passed away decades earlier. Samuel and Elizabeth were very poor, and Benjamin was sent away to live with Samuel Keifer in Middletown at an early age, where he became an apprentice saddle-maker. This arrangement did not suit either party; Benjamin was not particularly bright or ambitious. He left Keifer's employ while still a teenager, and would spend the rest of his life hopping from farm to farm, performing any odd job or task that suited his meager ability. It was for this reason Benjamin never attended school and never learned to read or write with any degree of proficiency. Until the day of his death, he could not properly spell his own name.

It was on one of these farms he met a young woman named Mary Bricker, and they were married by Rev. Joseph Nissley on December 26, 1872. The couple moved to Hummelstown and lived there until the birth of their second or third child, by which time their poverty necessitated a relocation to the sand hills, where they lived in a series of shacks and tumble-down shanties. Despite the financial hardship, Benjamin scraped together enough money to get by, but in 1888 his world was turned upside down.

 In late November of 1887 there was a cave-in at the Walton quarry which claimed four lives. One of the victims was Mary Tennis' brother. The body of John Bricker was the last of the bodies to be recovered; for over a month it had been buried beneath tons of rock. John's body had been cut in half, and when the remains were brought home for burial on January 4, the sight of her brother's mutilated corpse was too much for Mary to bear. She collapsed while collecting alms for her family and died the following day.

Benjamin never recovered emotionally after the death of his wife, and Mary's sudden death left him with seven children to look after. One by one they were placed in the care of neighboring families, where they grew up unable to remember their early lives in the sand hills. As for Benjamin, he found himself living in a shack not far from the Wright family, lusting after little Agnes.

 

A New Suit Of Clothes And A Boxing Kangaroo

The notoriety of the crime turned Benjamin Tennis into a celebrity of sorts. Though forgotten or shunned by most of his children, there was never a shortage of visitors at the jail. One such visitor was John G. Foley, manager of the newly-built Eden Musee in Harrisburg, a turn-of-the-century amusement house featuring everything from lion wrestling and strongman exhibitions to comedians, freak shows, and wax dummies (it is worth pointing out that the Harrisburg amusement house was one of several Eden Musees owned by Harry Davis, the famous theatrical manager from Pittsburgh. It was Davis who first introduced the public to five-cent moving pictures, in the process coining the term "nickelodeon").

Foley visited the jail and gave Tennis a new suit in exchange for the clothes he had been wearing when he murdered Agnes Cooper Wright. The Harrisburg Daily Independent printed the contract between Foley and Tennis, which stated:

I hereby bequeath my clothing consisting of coat, pants, shirts, hat, shoes and stockings which I wore when I committed the murder to said John G. Foley, manager of Harry Davis Eden Musee for a consideration already received, viz: A new suit of clothes consisting of coat, vest, pants, hat, shoes and stockings.

The contract was signed "Beng man f tennis", which were the only words the illiterate fiend ever learned to write. Foley promptly displayed the killer's outfit in the musee's "Curio Hall" as soon as the wax figure of the killer was complete, charging visitors five cents to view the ghastly spectacle, or ten cents if they also wished to see the "marsupial pugilistic star", Dixon the Boxing Kangaroo, who was also on the bill that week. Contemporary accounts show that visitors were particularly interested in seeing Tennis' shoes, which still bore blood stains on them.

 

 

It was this new suit Benjamin Tennis wore into the packed courtroom on Friday, Sept. 29, 1893. The first witness called was Agnes' mother, who sobbed hysterically during her testimony, but whose testimony established a timeline of the murder. Subsequent witnesses corroborated Mrs. Wright's testimony, which included Coroner Hoy, Dr. Baker, William Reigle and his daughter Emma, Joseph Habershaw and Barney Eisenhower, the quarry worker who had found the body. A wave of anger rippled through the courtroom when Eisenhower described how Tennis had not only assisted in the search, but had helped carry the wooden stretcher on which the body of his innocent victim was afterward removed from the woods.

The defense did make an attempt to raise questions about Benjamin's sanity, though it was evidently a lost cause. Witness after witness strongly rebuffed the notion of Tennis being insane. David Boyer, who lived across the street from the Wright family, shouted angrily at the defense attorney when he was asked if he had ever heard anyone refer to the defendant as "Crazy Ben". Tennis, who had already plead guilty, did not take the stand.

 
Dainties For A Dead Man Walking

While Dauphin County waited for Governor Pattison to fix the execution date, the person who was growing the most impatient was the killer himself. In early October, Tennis told a reporter that he didn't want his execution put off for too long. "I get too tired to wait so long," said Tennis. "We must all die sometime and I want it over as soon as they can get the thing ready."

On October 9, the governor fixed the date of the execution for Thursday, December 7. Sheriff Buser received the death warrant the following day, and read it to the doomed man inside the office of Warden C.L. Brinser in front of several witnesses, including the killer's spiritual advisor, Rev. F.W. Staley. Tennis did not seem to care very much; he seemed in good spirits, and didn't even flinch when the sheriff reached the part of the warrant stating, "and you shall be hanged by the neck until dead."

Benjamin had plenty reasons for his good spirits. He had gained weight since his arrest, and was eating better than he had at any point in his life. He wore the suit he had been given by the Eden Musee manager constantly, as it was the first set of new clothing he had ever owned. In jail, he got the first shave and haircut of his life, and had his photograph taken for the first time. But Warden Brinser and the prison inspectors were most surprised by the gifts addressed to the convicted killer that kept rolling in. two women had even shown up at the jail asking if they could present Tennis with a pound cake and cookies.

"I was so shocked I could scarcely believe that any person, much less a woman, would cater to the wishes of a man such as Tennis is, a man who committed the awful crime on little Agnes Cooper Wright and then murdered her," said one of the prison inspectors. "I thought, is it possible that a woman would lower herself to the extent of supplying such a villain with dainties? I told them to go and keep their presents and, rather, get on their knees and pray for the poor wretch. I do hope ladies will think better than to offer their compliments to this man. It is beneath the dignity of any woman to send presents to this man, and they should so consider it."

Of course, those were strange times. This was the era of curiosity seekers and relic hunters who trampled murder scenes in search of a souvenir, of men and women who paid a dime for the pleasure of staring at wax figures of Jack the Ripper, Lizzie Borden and Burke & Hare, a time when people forked over their hard-earned money to attend seances, to gawk at conjoined twins, to view the mummies of ancient pharaohs, or watch a man box a kangaroo. Not even the elites were above such macabre novelties and morbid amusements; on November 23, 1893, Dauphin County commissioner John Murphy was presented with a ghastly souvenir, in the form of a cane made from the very tree against which Agnes Cooper Wright had been ravished before her murder. 

On the morning of December 5, Benjamin was able to say goodbye to his three oldest children. Joseph, William and Dora were brought to the jail by Rev. Staley. For the first time since his sentencing, Benjamin wept openly. After joining his family in prayer, Benjamin presented his children with farewell gifts, purchased with the money he had received from his work on the Strickler farm. To Dora he gave a box containing a Bible, in which Benjamin had underlined his favorite passages. To his sons he gave a tin-type photograph of himself, the only picture of Tennis that was ever taken. He instructed Joseph to make copies so that every one of his children could have a memento.

One particularly strange occurrence arose from the visit of Benjamin's children. One of the inmates, 45-year-old Cyrus Judson Neel, had caught a glimpse of 17-year-old Dora Tennis and had apparently fallen head over heels in love. He asked Benjamin for his daughter's hand in marriage, to which the latter replied, "You can have her to keep house and as your wife if you want her." After discussing the matter with Mrs. Brinser, the warden's wife, Dora politely declined the proposal. 

 

Justice, With A Side Of Stewed Oysters

The gallows were erected in the jail yard near the west wall on Thursday morning. Only two passes had been handed out for the execution thus far, one to Arthur Cooper Wright, and the other to his wife. This inspired hundreds of locals to take to the nearest rooftops and telegraph poles. Though the hanging would not take until the following morning and it had been snowing since Wednesday, many curiosity seekers had already stationed themselves on their perches, for fear of losing their lookout spot when the big moment finally arrived. From the upper floor of the courthouse, dozens of men, women and children looked out from the windows with morbid fascination as the heavy wooden death machine was erected in the jail yard. One remarked that he could clearly see the indentations in the upper beam from the rope used in previous hangings, others remarked that the scaffold had been given a fresh coat of paint for the occasion.

The morning of the execution dawned crisp and cold, and the promise of more snow kept the ghouls at bay. The treetops and telegraph poles had been deserted, and all was quiet outside the stone walls of the county jail. Benjamin Tennis appeared in good spirits, though was disappointed to learn that he was not allowed to be hanged in his new suit, though he was cheered up to learn that he would be buried in it. For his final meal he chose a breakfast of stewed oysters, sweet cake, and a quart of "the strongest coffee the cooks could make".

After breakfast, Tennis was moved to cell number twenty-three on the eastern side of the building so that he would be unable to hear the oiling of the gallow's hinges and the testing of the trap door. This was just one of the many considerations Warden Brinser and his wife had made for the inmate. No matter how revolting his crime had been, the Brinser's deep religious beliefs compelled them to make the condemned man's final moments on earth as peaceful as possible. The warden had even gone so far as to smuggle some tobacco into the jail which had been provided by a Harrisburg newspaper reporter. Although it was against the warden's own rules, he knew there was no harm in it. Justice would be served soon enough, and if a condemned man wanted to smoke a pipe before he was hanged, who was he to refuse?

In the killer's final statement to the press, he expressed his gratitude toward his captors. "I never thought you had such nice, kind people in Harrisburg as you have," said Tennis to a reporter from the Daily Independent. "Mr. and Mrs. Brinser were so good to me and I hope to meet you and these good people in heaven." The thought of a man like Benjamin Tennis going to heaven made some of the prisoners and reporters laugh. Even one of the ministers on hand, Rev. Luther DeYoe, had to chuckle. He later told the reporter that Tennis ought not to be so certain about the final destination of his soul. 

By 11 o'clock the air had warmed considerably, and seemingly in the blink of an eye, hundreds of spectators had materialized on all sides of the jail. The ghouls had ascended to their rooftop perches once more, and local police had their hands full trying to keep the curiosity seekers at bay. Many had followed Mr. and Mrs. Wright all the way from the train station, trying to sneak past the police and join the crowd of 600 spectators who had been granted access to the jail yard by Sheriff Buser. The Harrisburg Daily Independent reported: Standing, sitting, pushing, this mass of humanity crowded around the scaffold, reciting incidents of other hangings they had witnessed and speculating on the execution of today.

At 11:19, Tennis was marched to the gallows, his spiritual advisors, Rev. Staley and Rev. DeYoe by his side. His step was steady and strong, and he appeared not to be bothered by the taunts and jeers from the spectators. Standing alone atop the platform, he said, "I pray for all these people present and I hope to meet you all when you die. I expect to go to heaven, and I want you all to come over. Now I come to the last, when Jesus calls me home."

Deputies Keller and Roat, assisted by Ex-County Detective Geiger and Chief Clerk Smith mounted the platform and pinioned Benjamin's arms. His hands were cuffed behind his back and a heavy leather strap was tied around his ankles. The noose was lowered around his neck, a white cap was placed over his head. At exactly 11:30 Sheriff Buser pulled the lever and the trap was sprung. The body fell 34 inches, and after hanging for fifteen minutes, Benjamin F. Tennis was pronounced dead by the prison physician, Dr. Hartman. Coroner Hoy examined the body, and noticed that the execution had been botched, perhaps in a karmic manner. The man who strangled Agnes Cooper Wright died not from a broken neck, but from strangulation.

An immense crowd greeted the body at the railroad depot in Hummelstown when it arrived for burial. Nearly one thousand persons were on hand for the funeral of Benjamin Tennis, though only a handful mourned. Reverend Joseph Nissley read the 92nd Psalm as the body was lowered into a grave beneath a cherry tree at the northern end of the old Lutheran Cemetery.

Sources:

Philadelphia Times, Jan. 5, 1888.
Harrisburg Telegraph, Sept. 20, 1893.
Harrisburg Daily Independent, Sept. 20, 1893.
Philadelphia Inquirer, Sept. 21, 1893.
Reading Times, Sept. 21, 1893.
Harrisburg Telegraph, Sept. 21, 1893.
Harrisburg Telegraph, Sept. 22, 1893.
Lebanon Daily News, Sept. 22, 1893.
Lebanon Daily News, Sept. 27, 1893.
Harrisburg Daily Independent, Sept. 27, 1893.
Harrisburg Daily Independent, Sept. 29, 1893.
Harrisburg Daily Independent, Oct. 4, 1893.
Harrisburg Daily Independent, Oct. 10, 1893.
Harrisburg Daily Independent, Oct. 11, 1893.
Lebanon Daily News, Nov. 24, 1893.
Harrisburg Daily Independent, Dec. 5, 1893.
Harrisburg Daily Independent, Dec. 6, 1893.
Harrisburg Daily Independent, Dec. 7, 1893.
Pittsburgh Music History: Harry Davis