Antique Maps and the Search for Thomas Jaques' Killer

 

Ever since I was a child I have always been fascinated by old maps and atlases. There's just something about them that I can't quite describe. It's interesting to see old roads and railways that no longer exist, or roads that are still in use centuries after their creation, as well as the layouts of thriving towns and cities back when they were just tiny settlements. Sometimes, old maps even mark the spot where something of local significance happened. 

Recently, while studying the 1869 F.W. Beers atlas of Wyoming County, I came across a vague notation on the map of the village of Center Moreland, in Northmoreland Township, which caught my attention. At the main intersection in town, there's a tiny circle, accompanied by the following description: T. Jaques killed, September 13th, 1866.

The name meant nothing to me-- as far as I knew, we had no famous heroes, outlaws or politicians with that name during the 19th century-- but, obviously, this person's death was such a noteworthy event that it merited a marking on a map. In my mind, I pictured a cartographer from a big city publisher arriving in this sleepy hamlet, minding his business and sketching out the layout of the village while curious locals look over his shoulder and offer their suggestions. "Look over there, fella," one of the old-timers might've said, pointing out a nondescript spot in the village square. "That's where T. Jaques was killed three years ago." The cartographer probably mumbled a polite reply and returned to his work. "Well, ain'tcha gonna put in on yer map?" the old man pressed. 

The poor mapmaker, who was probably up against a tight deadline (he had a train to New York to catch and Old Man Beers hadn't been able to sleep a wink because his section on Wyoming County was still incomplete) was about to explain that people die every day in every little village across the country and that no one outside of Center Moreland had ever heard of T. Jaques when the old timer's buddies took up the argument. "Surely, you cannot print a map of this here town without marking the spot where T. Jaques was struck down!" bellowed the village blacksmith. "It would be a travesty!" The barber, feed store operator and hotel proprietor all murmured and nodded their heads in agreement. "Why, it was the biggest thing to happen in this town since the twister of Forty-six. Remember that, Wilmer?"

"Sure do," replied a dust-caked farmer, chewing on a blade of straw. "It blew all the shingles off the henhouse, it did. Jeremiah Reifsnyder's cows were so shook up that when he went to milk 'em the next morning, butter came out of the udders." The cartographer sighed and inked up his fountain pen. It was then he scribbled the beguiling words on the map next to the village square, much to the satisfaction of the proud locals. It was only a rough draft, anyway, reasoned the cartographer. Someone in the F.W. Beers printing office was bound to catch the odd marking and strike it from the final draft. 

The grave 0f Thomas Jaques, Rogers Cemetery, Center Moreland

 

Fast forward to 2024. One hundred miles away from Wyoming County, a history nerd from Harrisburg with a fascination for the strange and morbid is sipping his morning coffee and perusing a digitized map of Centre Moreland when he comes across a barely-visible description: T. Jaques killed, September 13th, 1866. "Weird," he says, before flicking off his computer and going about his day. He showers, gets dressed, then goes to the post office, the grocery store and the bank, then he comes home and cooks dinner. That night, as he's in bed on the cusp of blissful slumber, the words pop into his head: T. Jaques killed, September 13th, 1866. He yawns, but sleep will not come. Minutes pass, and he realizes that he will not fall asleep until he gets to the bottom of the mystery. And this is what he learns:

On September 13, 1866, a Sunday school picnic was held near Center Moreland, drawing a large number of guests from Wyoming and surrounding counties. Though it's not clear where this large gathering was held, it was, by all accounts, a tremendous success. At the close of the picnic, one young man who was staying at the village hotel was preparing to make his journey home to Troy in Bradford County (which was then part of Luzerne County). This young man, 26-year-old Ira H. Schooley, had left his horse and buggy standing at "The Corners" unattended.

Meanwhile, a local 31-year-old man named Thomas Jaques, described as being "considerably intoxicated", got into Schooley's buggy and began to drive away. The more concerned members of the local citizenry, upon seeing Jaques' inebriated state, tried to prevent him. Schooley, who was just coming out of the hotel at this time, drew a whip to strike him but was restrained by the townsfolk. Jaques was incensed by this behavior-- after all, how dare the rightful owner of the horse and buggy try to stop him from stealing it?-- so he took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves and advanced upon Schooley, intending to give him a sound thrashing. However, owing to his drunken condition, Jaques stumbled and fell down on the street.

Schooley, who was on the other side of the buggy at the time, ran around and delivered a swift kick to the drunken would-be horse thief as he was attempting to get back up, but, much to everyone's alarm, Jaques dropped like a stone. The unlucky kick had severed Jaques' spinal column, killing him instantly. Ira Schooley, whose young wife had given birth to their first child just four months earlier, was taken into custody and questioned before the justice of the peace, Squire Lutes, who decided to lodge him in jail to await trial for manslaughter in November.

"The Corners" at Center Moreland. Jaques died almost exactly where the orange sign stands.

 

At the November session of the Wyoming County Court, a jury promptly found Ira Schooley guilty of manslaughter. In fact, the members of the jury didn't even leave the jury box to deliberate. Records show that the prosecutor of the case was Alfred W. Jaques, the victim's father, who, like his son, was a prominent local citizen. Sadly, despite the mitigating circumstances of the tragic affair, it seemed that an out-of-towner like Schooley never stood a chance. Long before the case even went to trial, the local press had put Schooley through the wringer, while fondly reminiscing about Thomas Jaques and his bravery as a soldier during the Civil War, and the debilitating head injury he had suffered on the battlefield which left him addicted to strong liquor.

Schooley Strikes Again

It's not clear how much time Ira Schooley spent in prison, though a notice appeared in the February 27, 1867 edition of the Wyoming Democrat that he had submitted an application for a pardon to the governor. He later became a policeman in Wyoming Borough and, astonishingly, was arrested for murder a second time in 1893, after firing a shot that killed William Skeegan. the charges were later dropped by Squire Perkins. When asked by a reporter from the Wilkes-Barre Times on what grounds the charges were dropped, Perkins replied, "I decline to say. You can say, however, that Schooley has already served one term in the penitentiary for murder." It also appears that, at the time of his death from a lingering illness in 1896 at the age of 55, Schooley was serving a term as an election judge in Luzerne County.

 

Sources:
Wyoming Democrat, Sept. 19, 1866.
Wyoming Democrat, February 27, 1867.
Wilkes-Barre Times, August 11, 1893.