A Dangerous Place
Toward the end of the 1700s in America, the territory known as Tennessee was a wild and woolly place. Adventurers, boatmen, traders and people just moving from one part of the country to another found their way through its thick forests. One of the central pathways was the Natchez or Chickasaw Trace, which connected lower parts of the Mississippi River to central Tennessee, e.g., Nashville to Natchez, and linked three rivers: the Cumberland, Tennessee and Mississippi. At first, the Trace was simply a series of narrow trails used by deer and Native Americans, and for a while, one could travel only single-file on horseback. But as more people utilized it, the Trace broadened. Its heaviest use, according to the National Park Service, was from 1785 until 1820. Only ten years later, it was abandoned as an official channel and it was nearly absorbed back into the woods, but today’s Natchez Trace Parkway follows approximately the same route. Few drivers realize just how dangerous and bloody it once was — thanks in part to a pair of serial killers.
In The Devil’s Backbone, a reference to the Natchez Trace, Jonathan Daniels describes its history. Early on, European-Americans unused to the wilderness relied on Choctaw, Chickasaw, or Cherokee scouts. Eventually, trading posts run by whites went up at various locations along the way. Many eminent people traveled this 440-mile trail, such as Aaron Burr, Andrew Jackson, and explorer Meriwether Lewis (who died there at Grinder’s Stand in 1809 and is buried there). Itinerant preachers saving souls also used the Trace, as did merchants seeking their fortune, and it thus became a lucrative area for highwaymen. One of the most notorious spots was Natchez-Under-the-Hill, a port to the Mississippi River.
The town drew gamblers, prostitutes and “Kaintucks,” or frontiersmen from areas north, who sold their goods and boats, and then walked around with pockets full of cash. They drank the profits away and then started for home. But just outside the town limits, bandits awaited them, often in organized gangs, and among them were two men who grew notorious for their cut-throat ways — even to the other outlaws.
Although many true crime writers have claimed that America’s first serial killer is H. H. Homes from the late nineteenth century, in fact, there were several operating before him — as early as one hundred years before. The first documented rogues of this type were Micajah and Wiley Harpe, who slaughtered for fun and profit. Apparently the first account of their deeds came from James Hall, a judge in Shawneetown, who in 1828 wrote about how they spread death around Tennessee and Kentucky for about nine months. “Their history is wonderful,” he penned, “as well from the number and variety, as the incredible ferocity of their adventures.” Then in 1855, T. Marshall Smith offered stories about their pre-rampage years.
The primary sources for information today, all of which contradict the others on various points, include Life as it Is, by Charles Breazeale, and accounts of the Natchez Parkway itself, especially Outlaws of Cave-in Rock, by Otto Rothert, who collected all extant sources on the Harpes. Reportedly, Rothert’s book contains the most comprehensive account of the Harpe brothers, and even served as a script for a documentary. Breazeale admits that there were contemporaneous accounts that differed from his own, but insists that he derived his from a man who personally witnessed part of the tale.
Little is known of the Harpes’ early history, but even as young men their presence signaled terror to ordinary folk. While most modern sources refer to them as the Harpes, with an ‘e,’ the earliest documentation drops it, because they themselves did so when they changed their first names. We shall adopt the most common usage, Harpe, to present their tale of carnage and bloodshed, noting that one historian referred to them as “the most brutal monsters of the human race.”
In the early history of North America, Great Britain had established thirteen colonies along the Eastern seaboard. After the British defeated the French in 1763, the colonials grew restless with the rule of King George III, especially with his increasing taxation. Tension grew as leaders like Benjamin Franklin and John Adams rallied the colonists to throw off King George and become a new country.
To achieve representation in legal and economic matters, they went to war in 1775, fighting with everything they had against the “Redcoats” and finally forcing a British surrender in 1781. Declaring independence, they drew up a constitution. This new United State of America rejected the idea of rule by the elite, and as the first democracy of the modern world, the people voted leaders into power. While the new government had its problems, it would eventually emerge to fulfill its founders’ dreams. Still, there were those who exploited the transitional chaos, especially in the unsettled West. As Breazeale put it, “We now have a narrative to relate, which must shock and horrify the soul of every individual possessing the ordinary social feelings and sympathies of human nature.”
Females especially, he says, will shudder in their souls over the “tragic deeds of carnage and death.” Males will feel indignant about the way murder was committed “for the gratification of a hellish thirst for carnage and a fiendish delight in human misery.” Breazeale was referring, of course, to the Harpes.
Musgrave says that they emigrated from Scotland as young children and were first cousins, the sons of John and William Harpe, who settled in Orange County, North Carolina (Breazeale says Georgia), but other sources indicate that they were born in America, and that it was their fathers who emigrated, around 1761. The families were seeking to run a plantation, and did so for a few years before the colonies entered a war. At some point as they grew older the boys changed their names, from William and Joshua to Micajah and Wiley, dropping the “e” and passing themselves off as brothers. Instead of becoming farmers, they fought in the war, but not on the side of the struggling young country. On the contrary, they were young Tories, loyal to Britain, and they happily participated in rampaging gangs that terrorized and plundered patriots. Musgrave recounts the battles in which they participated.
Micajah, born in 1768, was tall, big-boned, and muscular, with a vicious countenance. Although he was frequently grimy, people could still see that he was a redhead. He liked to arm himself with dangerous weapons: a hunting knife, a tomahawk, and a rifle. He did not much care who he hurt or killed.
His companion, the younger Harpe (born in 1770), was just as adept with weaponry but not quite as fierce or frightening. Apparently they were equally angry, and several writers note that they had once been arrested for a crime they did not commit, and were convicted and jailed for it. Whether they were out for revenge or were just ornery is hard to say. What’s beyond dispute is the brutality they exhibited.
Eventually the Harpes decided that military life wasn’t much to their liking (not to mention that they were much too young to be soldiers), so just before the war ended, when things were looking bad for the British, they deserted. When the colonies won and established their independence, the Harpes became outlaws. They now had little to lose, so rather than return home, they rode with gangs to plunder and steal, and then pushed their way west.
Along the way, Micajah kidnapped Maria Davidson to be his wife, then grabbed Susan Wood (some sources give their names as Betsy and Sally, because they used aliases). The men sufficiently brutalized the women to put the fear of God into them so they wouldn’t think of running off — and perhaps just because they liked to exert their will. They apparently came into Tennessee’s Knox County some time between 1795 and 1797, settling close to a place called Beaver’s Creek. By this time, says Doris Lane, they had killed five times — including four of their own children.
Wiley legally married a woman from Knoxville named Sarah Rice (another source calls her Susanna). Not much is know about how these women adjusted to their new husbands, but it’s likely that the men did not much care. In fact, Big Harpe lived with both Betsy and Sally as common-law wives. These men clearly weren’t seeking a way to start families to perpetuate their line, because they often slaughtered their own progeny. Apparently, it was sex slaves they wanted, as Musgrave says that both Harpes killed two children each (although some accounts claim that later on they did have children in their familial entourage — as many as three).
They moved into a cabin on what would eventually be named Old Maidensville Road, with the extended family sharing everything. Betsy and Sally were described as plain, but Susanna/Sarah was prettier. The woman apparently did not try to escape; indeed, they learned to accommodate whatever they heard or knew about their husbands’ activities, and when at one point they did have the chance to go their own way, they reunited with their husbands (although they would later insist they were simply afraid not to). Some writers say that the women even began to assist the Harpes in their crimes.
Apparently, once they all settled in Tennessee, they made an effort to raise crops and get along with other residents (although Musgrave writes that they killed a man who showed concern for their women). However, they were restless for more, and it wasn’t long before they began to steal livestock from their neighbors to slaughter and sell for profit. At first, no one realized what they were doing, but eventually a few men to whom they repeatedly sold meat suspected its origins.
When several of Edward Tiel’s horses went missing, these suspicions were voiced, so he went to the Harpe homestead in search of them. When he found no one at home, he organized several men to help him search. They went into the woods and came across an area where it appeared that horses had been tied. Following a trail into the Cumberland Mountains, the searchers located not only the missing horses, but also the Harpes. The thieving cousins were arrested and escorted back to town, but they managed to break away and escape. Now they were truly outlaws, and it wasn’t long before they stepped up their aggression with murder.
The Harpes became two of the most feared outlaws, hiding out for a time in a cavernous limestone formation in southern Illinois known as Cave-in Rock. This place, says Nash, was a “natural fortress honeycombed with subterranean passages so large that the Harpes hid herds of cattle and horses in them.” Rothert’s book provides a comprehensive history of the area and its changing inhabitants.
For several decades, a group of river pirates took over, and for a brief period the Harpes moved among them. Because Cave-in Rock was located on a cliff over the Ohio River, the pirates could easily ambush people traveling on flatboats. Or, posing as guides or boatmen, they would bring travelers with their goods to a vulnerable spot near the cave. Then other gang members jumped out to confiscate the goods. The goal was to enrich themselves, which they did quite well, but they intended no physical harm. However, the Harpes had other games in mind. In one incident, they bound a terrified flatboat passenger naked to a blindfolded horse and sent both over a cliff. The hapless man and animal landed hard on the rocks below. This incident shocked the pirates for its wanton cruelty, and they severed all ties with the Harpes, demanding that they leave. The pirates even referred to them as “men turned into wild wolves,” although one of them would cross a Harpe’s path again, to his detriment. More about that later.
In 1798, the Harpes went into Kentucky and began an intense campaign of violence. In one incident reported in The Gleaner, says Jenkins, they found a little girl at the mouth of the Green River. To send a message to area residents, they smashed the child’s head against the bridge structure, killing her. Breazeale also describes an incident in which they murdered a boy named Coffey (or Trabue) who was on his way to a grist mill. This killing was followed by (or occurred after, depending on the account) the murder of an adult male named Johnson. (Musgrave says Johnson was their first victim and suggests that he got his due, by the Harpes’ way of thinking, because he had alerted Tiel about who had stolen his horses). Apparently the Harpes came upon him on the road to or from Knoxville and shot him in the head. But they weren’t content with that. They also ripped open his belly to fill his abdomen full of rocks. They may have been trying to hide their deed as they tossed the rock-filled body into the Holston River. Yet people discovered it because when it decomposed, the rocks fell out and the remains floated to the surface.
Another trick, which Rothert describes, was clearly psychopathic. The Harpes would ride along with someone they might encounter on the road, under the pose of gaining and giving protection — safety in numbers. Often their wives were with them. They would then drop back on the path until they had a good, clear shot, and kill their prey. In one case involving two male travelers from Maryland, the Harpes pretended they could not find a suitable place to camp for the night until it grew dark. Then they made their move, and both men died.
In another county, the Harpes murdered Hugh Dunlap, who had threatened to arrest them. He’d apparently made it clear that he intended to bring them to justice, no matter what it took. For his trouble, he lost his life. Around the same time, a man named Ballard fell victim to the marauders, and they stuffed his body with stones before throwing it into a river. A man and his son were both slaughtered while out planting crops, as was most of a family camping near the Whippoorwill River. There was only one survivor, who ran. Around this time, Micajah also killed his (or Wiley’s) four-month-old daughter by swinging her by the ankles to smash her head against a tree.
Wearing scalps in their belts and the buckskin of Native Americans, the Harpes sought ways to bring misery all around. They made no distinction among children, women or men as their victims, or between free men and slaves. They simply raped, thieved, and killed as opportunities arose.
The next step was to offer a reward to anyone who could capture one or both of the Harpes, and this was issued by the governor of Kentucky, to the tune of $300. Given the vigilance in the area, the Harpes withdrew into the Cumberland Mountains that lay for many miles along the border between Kentucky and Tennessee. Along the way, they broke into isolated settlements to steal and commit more murders. Residents armed themselves with whatever they could find, some of them staying to protect the families and others going off in pursuit of the Harpes.
Moving along the Cumberland Gap, the Harpes and their wives traveled on Boon’s trace, a path that took them into Kentucky, toward Richland Creek. There they met a peddler named Peyton, who was taking goods via horseback to various settlements. He had quite a load, and the prospect of taking these items was too rich for the Harpes, so they killed him and confiscated everything he had, including his pack horse.
From there, they journeyed toward a public house for wayfarers, operated by a man named Pharris (or Farris).
They arrived early in the morning, dirty and ragged from days on the trail, and demanded breakfast. A young man name Thomas Langford, on his way to Virginia, was already eating his repast. Pharris’ wife served food to the Harpes, but after they had eaten, they haggled over the price, insisting that they would not pay.
Langford intervened to defend her, since her husband was not there to do it, and the Harpes turned their wrath on him. But he stood his ground, determined to do what was right.
“You have no cause to argue with a lady,” Langford said. “If you’re short on funds, I have plenty of money and I’ll pay for the food.” His aim was to make them desist in their abuse of Mrs. Pharris. He clearly did not realize that he’d just been scammed, as well as targeted for further treatment; he had revealed too much about himself and had become a tantalizing morsel. The Harpes, spotting his naiveté, accepted his offer and he paid the bill. They pretended to be reconciled and even suggested that Langford travel with their entourage as protection against the dangers on the road. He readily accepted.
After breakfast, they all set off together, traveling several miles until they were beyond anyone’s view. In an instant, the Harpes set upon young Langford, killing him and taking his money. They tossed his corpse on the side of the road, covering it with some brush, and went their way.
There it lay, decomposing, until some cattle drivers happened along. The cattle smelled it first and the herd took off in diverse directions, bellowing as if a lion were at their tails. The cattle drovers were clueless about what had startled them so suddenly, but they had little time to ponder it. They ran to catch the stray cattle and herd them back together. While engaged in this task, one of them discovered Langford’s body and called to his cohorts. Those with the courage to venture close looked through the corpse’s effects for some indication of his identity. On his clothing, they found his name: Thomas Langford.
They used a blanket to gather up the remains and carried him to the nearest public house to try to get help. This happened to be the Pharris establishment. The family recognized him at once as their previous lodger, and they remembered that he had gone off with the bedraggled family who had raised such a row about the price of their food. It seemed clear to everyone what had happened: The Harpes had lured Langford away and then killed him for his money.
A posse gathered to go in pursuit of the family and soon came across them. Micajah and Wiley found themselves captured once again, on Christmas Day in 1798, and this time they could not escape so easily. They ended up locked into a prison in Danville, the seat of Lincoln County, to await a trial. However, their wits proved superior to the prison walls and they managed to get out and disappear into the wilderness. (Breazeale mentions that a jailor quit soon after and appeared to be quite wealthy, so suspicion mounted that the Harpes had bribed him with Langford’s money and he’d accepted). Musgrave, who looks primarily to Rothbert as a source, says that the Harpe women were also imprisoned at this time and they did not escape, as all were pregnant. They gave birth in the prison, all within two months of the others. Once freed and able to move on to new lives, they went instead to Cave-in Rock to meet their husbands, as per instructions from a messenger. None attempted to go elsewhere to escape the men.
Now, says Breazeale, the Harpes stepped up their aggression, as if they could not get enough bloodshed.
The border between Tennessee and Kentucky was newly settled, providing the Harpes with plenty of opportunities for killing — especially because the settlements were sparsely populated, resulting in many people being fairly isolated. One victim, Bradbury, was immortalized on the spot where he died: Bradbury’s Ridge.
“They murdered all classes and sexes, without distinction,” remarks Breazeale, “not for plunder but for the love of shedding human blood.” When they did steal something from people, it was usually only for their immediate needs. For example, when they bashed a black boy’s head against a tree to kill him, they left his horse and a bag of grain behind.
At this time, there was no Pinkerton agency, no FBI, and not even an organized police force in these parts. The federal marshals had been appointed in 1789, but found it difficult to do their jobs in wilderness areas with the limited resources they had. There was simply no precedent for the kind of killing the Harpes indulged, in terms of how to track and stop them.
Yet despite their retreat into Tennessee, the Harpes soon returned to Kentucky. Breazeale says they moved along the Kentucky trace, back into the Cumberland Mountains, and as they crossed the Emory River, they encountered two men. They killed one, smashing his rifle against a tree, but the other escaped to bring the news that the Harpes were back. After the discovery of the first man’s body, the area became known as Brasil’s Knob. The residents again took up their defense, determined to bring these killers to justice as well as free their community from the terror these killers instilled. They might be back, was the sentiment, but they were going to be stopped, once and for all.
To avoid capture, the Harpes continued to live in the woods and caves that were scattered throughout the mountains. Occasionally they would venture out to a home in which they knew some protection, and at one such place, their violent natures got the better of them. It was the beginning of the end of their spree, but not before several more people died.
One day late in August 1799, the killing cousins came into the Stegall homestead, headed by Moses Stegall, a man of “bad character” who had settled in the thinly populated area of Henderson County. He’d associated superficially with the Harpes and tolerated them to some extent, but was uninterested in too many dealings. Nevertheless, the Harpe wives got to know Mrs. Stegall, and according to the Gleaner account, they alerted their men to the fact that the woman kept a sum of $40, hidden in the cabin. (Rothert tells another story: foiled by dogs in their attempted murder of Stegall’s neighbor, they came into Stegall’s yard.)
When Stegall was away, the Harpes arrived and asked Mrs. Stegall to fix them a meal. She told them that she was attending to her infant, just four months old, and they’d have to wait. (Another account say that they requested lodging for the night and were put in the barn with a man named Major William Love, whom they killed during the night because he snored too loudly. They had actually warned him that outlaws were prowling the area.)
In Breazeale’s account, whether or not they stayed the night, it was morning when the Harpes suggested that Mrs. Stegall put her child in its cradle so they could look after it while she cooked the food. She agreed to the arrangement, going off to the kitchen. Her baby quieted right away, which pleased her. In fact, throughout the entire time she was making breakfast, she did not hear a single cry from the child. That surprised her. She brought the meal to serve the men and then went to check on the babe.
A laborer named Williams, in the field with a couple of women who were breaking flax, witnessed what happened next. As Mrs. Stegall stood over the cradle, she stopped short and let out a piecing scream. The Harpes caught her and stabbed her to death with a butcher knife — the same one they had used, it turned out, to cut the throat of her child to keep it quiet. They then entered the cabin, apparently found the stash of money (no one reports if they did), set fire to the house and ran.
Williams ran, too, fetching the women nearby to protect them and alerting other people in the area. Moses soon heard about the incident and came running to find his slaughtered wife and child. Although in shock, he called for some men to help him, including Captain John Leiper, and seven of them went in pursuit of the Harpes, traveling the rest of the day and into the next. One man in the posse possessed a rifle filled with powder given to him by Micajah when he and Wiley had come to his home earlier, posing as preachers.
The posse spotted smoke coming from a rocky cavern and guessed that the Harpes were inside a cave. Creeping up on the outlaws, the posse surprised them as they were resting. (The Gleaner article indicates that they were separated and Wiley had blown a whistle to signal to Big Harpe to help him kill a wayfarer. He saw the posse and left, while Big Harpe was caught without a way to run.) Whichever tale is correct, a gun battle ensued and Micajah was wounded. He managed to get to a horse, leaving the women behind in the cave. Although Big Harpe usually had the superior horse, this time he grabbed Wiley’s horse (The Gleaner indicates that it was William Love’s stolen mount), taking off in a direction opposite that of Wiley. Rothert’s account has it that the wives pointed the way, and when the posse caught up with Big Harpe, Leiper shot him in the leg and back. He supposedly used the gun filled with gunpowder that Harpe himself had given to the rifle’s owner (although that part of the tale may be poetic license for ironic effect).
Because the posses contained too few men to separate to pursue both fugitives, several went after Big Harpe while the others guarded the Harpe women. They tied them to trees and left them, going in pursuit of the outlaws.
Big Harpe lashed his horse into a full-speed gallop, but Leiper had a better mount. They raced for some eight miles through the rugged wilderness, into and out of ravines, over hills, and through brush and trees. Finally, Micajah’s horse began to tire and lose its pace. Since Leiper had pulled ahead of the others, he was alone and quite apprehensive about what a man of Harpe’s size and degree of desperation might do, so he closed in with supreme caution. He lifted his gun, ready for anything, and when he realized that Harpe was not firing on him (because Harpe’s ammunition was depleted or his gun was broken), he rushed in and fired. His bullet struck true, going through Harpe’s arm and breaking it, as well as wounding him in the side (by Breazeale’s account).
Harpe fell from his weary horse and crawled over to a log to set himself against something stable to prepare for his demise. He’d dropped his gun, and so had little defense except his legendary strength and his fearsome reputation. He also had a knife (or tomahawk or both) but not much strength to wield it. Leiper did not approach him at once to seize him, but rather reloaded his own gun and moved slowly forward.
“If you move even a finger,” he warned, “I’ll give you everything I’ve got in this rifle.”
Leiper pointed the weapon directly at Harpe’s vulnerable chest, spotting the butcher knife in Harpe’s hand, but saw no other weapon. He coaxed Harpe to surrender his weapon. When he felt certain that monstrous outlaw was no longer a threat, Breazeale says that Leiper asked, “Why did you do this? Why kill all those people?”
Harpe’s response, readily given, was a classic answer, one that many future serial killers would echo. He said that he and his brother had grown disgusted with all mankind “and agreed with each other to destroy as many persons as they could.” Harpe admitted that he knew he would one day pay the ultimate price, but he was determined to slaughter as many people as he could before that happened. By some accounts, they were angry over a wrong done to them, or a false arrest and imprisonment. Rothert indicates that Harpe identified a man named Baldwin as the source for all the misery.
While Micajah admitted to a number of murders (some sources say 17, others say 20 or 28 and a few claim as many as 40), he said that there was only one murder for which he bore remorse: the murder of his own child. He had killed it, he said, because its crying had annoyed him. (This may have been the baby he smashed into a tree.)
Leiper was aware of many of the killings that Micajah now related, but some unsolved murders to which he confessed had never been pinned on him. Leiper pressed Harpe to continue until he had told everything there was to tell. However, by this time, the others in the posse had caught up and were so full of rage that they cared little about Harpe’s account. They wanted revenge. (The Gleaner indicates that Harpe was given water and time to pray. Musgrave says that the water was delivered to Harpe in his own shoe.)
Stegall in particular was burning to give Harpe a taste of his own medicine. He grabbed the butcher knife that Harpe had given to Leiper and ran at the outlaw, grabbing him by the hair and running the blade in a slow sawing motion across the back of his neck. Micajah definitely suffered, but Breazeale reports that he didn’t cry out. Instead, he stared at Stegall “with a grim and fiendish countenance, exclaiming, ‘You are a God damned rough butcher, but cut on and be damned.’” (Rothert indicates that they removed his head only after he’d been shot again and had expired.)
To continue with the first account, Stegall was likely annoyed by this defiance, so he finished the job by drawing the blade all the way around Harpe’s neck, cutting deep to the bone until he had removed the head from the body. It was the same manner that a butcher would use with an animal. At the time of his death, Harpe was only 31 years old.
Micajah Harpe’s body was left in the wilderness for the animals to fight over, while his head was placed in a bag, to be carried to an appropriate spot. The company also carried some roasting corn in the same bag for their supper. (Nash says that they actually boiled Micajah’s head and consumed the flesh, leaving the skull on a tree, but this story is not consistent with other accounts.)
They returned to where the women had been tied to the trees. (The Gleaner indicates that there were three children as well.) They were still standing after many hours, but obviously weary and frightened. They were taken to a court in Russellville and interrogated as to their reasons for being joined to such monstrous men as the Harpes. In the spirit of many mates of serial killers, some truthful and others not, the wives claimed that they had not known of the Harpes’ bad character when they first joined with them. But once they did have an inkling, they feared that leaving the men would endanger their own lives, as well as the lives of their families. They had seen the potential when the men had murdered their own children as infants.
One of them, Sarah, claimed that she had tried to leave several times, but was forced to remain with them. When asked what they knew about the various murders to which Micajah had confessed, they corroborated many of the details. They indicated that the motive for murder was an injustice done to the men. They said that Big Harpe had wanted to kill the three remaining children after the Stegall slaughter so that they could escape with no hindrances.
It came time to decide what to do with the women, and the officials ultimately decided that they had been more or less coerced to cohabit with the outlaws, so they could not be held responsible for any part in the atrocities. Thus, they were released and allowed to make their own way in the world. One can only wonder what scars they suffered watching their children be murdered and fearing each day for their lives. In fact, they walked away knowing that Little Harpe was still out there.
They sought protection from other residents in Kentucky, and Wiley’s wife, Sarah, was welcomed back into her father’s home. (Breazeale claims that because she was pretty and the others were not, she was able to secure protection more readily.) The other two stayed in the area and reformed their lives. Maria (Betsy) remarried, had a family and moved to Illinois. Sarah, too, remarried and went west. Susan died single, still in Tennessee, although she had a daughter living with her.
To formally establish that justice had been meted out to Big Harpe, the hunters took his head to a justice of the peace. They made affidavits of what had occurred, satisfying the official, and then decided what they should do with their gruesome trophy. They decided to put it on public display, placing it on the end of a pointed stick that was rooted into the ground. (Other accounts say they stuck it on a tree.)
Travelers passing by the intersection of Morgenfield, Henderson, and Maidensville Roads in Union County saw the head for themselves, even years after it was first placed there and transformed into a hollow-eyed, grinning skull. They told stories about this outlaw to entertain themselves but also to serve as a warning to others that bad things can happen to even the worst of men. The place gained the name Harpe’s Head, and the road, Harpe’s Head Road.
For his bravery, Leiper was granted a reward of $250. Others who hoped to cash in went looking for Little Harpe, but he remained on the loose for several more years. There was little comfort in those parts from knowing that only one of these monsters was safely dead, but people took what they could get.
Wiley Harpe had lucked out the day his cohort in crime was captured. The posse had chosen to let him go and he knew just how to elude capture. He had plenty of trails through the woods and in and out of caves, so he wasn’t worried. However, when he heard about what had happened to his brother/cousin, he was determined that this would not happen to him. He traveled from there to Natchez, Mississippi, taking the name of Setton, and rather than lie low as a wise person might who has had such a close call, he apparently continued to murder people on his own. At least, that’s how the legends portray his story. Daniels says that he seduced, battered, and murdered a young woman.
He came across a band of thieves, headed by Sam Mason or Meason (Breazeale was unsure of the spelling, but most sources refer to him as Mason), on whose own head a considerable reward of $2,000 had been placed. Wiley had known Mason from the Cave-in Rock pirate gang, operating the “Liquor Vault and House of Entertainment,” so he probably had little trouble gaining entrée, despite his past atrocities.
Sifakis states that Mason, a former ranger and justice of the peace, terrorized the Mississippi around 1800, attracting a considerable gang of cutthroats who viewed him as their leader. After committing a crime, Mason often carved his presence on a tree, “Done by Mason of the Woods.” He was captured early in 1803 but managed to escape during a storm to continue his plundering. Yet there were more than just decent folk who wanted him jailed or dead; always a predator, Wiley watched for his own opportunity to claim the reward. As often happens with two desperados, both of whom suffer no remorse, it’s often a matter of which will do in the other one first.
Little Harpe dreamed of the money he would make bringing Mason in — dead or alive. His own preference was to kill the man, in keeping with the philosophy espoused by Micajah just prior to his own death. Finally, he saw the opportune moment and, with fellow gang member Sam Mays, killed Mason with a tomahawk. They removed his head and packed it in clay to transport it, knowing that Mason’s unusually long wolf’s tooth would be recognized by anyone familiar with him. The next task was to deliver the goods and claim the money, an act that carried its own risks. But Wiley was either too arrogant or too ignorant to realize how vulnerable he made himself when he brought the putrid head into Natchez. Mays accompanied him, probably to ensure that he’d get his own share. However, under suspicion of stealing horses, they were detained.
At the same time, troops arrived on their way from eastern Tennessee to take over the Louisiana and Mississippi territories. Some knew Harpe on sight (John Bowman is named by one source as the person who made the identification, and Captain Stump by another), and were aware of his fugitive status, so when he arrived with Mason’s head in his hand, they grabbed him and put him into a prison. Bowman said that Harpe would have a scar under the left nipple, and indeed, he did. Mays went with him, but they escaped. Recaptured outside Greenville, Mississippi, they were brought back and held for execution.
On February 8, 1804, Harpe and Hays were hanged. Their heads were removed and placed on poles, Harpe to the north of town and Mays to the south, as a warning to other outlaws. (Nash erroneously states that Wiley was rumored to have been eaten by a wild wolf pack. He makes no report of the capture and execution in Mississippi.)
“Thus ended the lawless and bloody career of those incarnadine monsters,” writes Breazeale, “whose ruthless, unnatural, and barbarous deeds must startle and astound the reader who has not hitherto heard the story of their more than brutal outrages.”
It’s likely that the Harpes had escaped recognition as classic serial killers because, unlike the compulsive fantasy-driven killers of today, who tend to be repetitive, the Harpes murdered people in a variety of ways, from shooting to stabbing to bludgeoning. Yet their lack of real motive and general sense of anger and disdain holds true. It’s unlikely that anyone else before them will be nominated as America’s first serial killers. They certainly deserve the title.
Breazeale, J. W. M. Life As It Is; or Matters and Things in General. Knoxville, TN: James Williams, 1842.
Daniels, Jonathan. The Devil’s Backbone. Gretna, LA: Pelican Publishing, 1989.
Jenkins, Judy, “Fearsome Twosome had a Reign of Terror in These parts,” The Gleaner, March 27, 1988.
Musgrave, Jon. “Frontier Serial Killers: The Harpes,” American Weekend, October 23, 1998, illinoishistory.com. Retrieved 6/5/06.
Nash, Jay. Bloodletters and Bad Men.
“Natchez Trace,” National Park Service. Nps.gov, retrieved 6/5/06.
Roberts, O. A. Outlaws of Cave-in-Rock.
Schechter, Harold. The Serial Killer Files. New York: Ballantine, 2004.
Sifakis, Carl. The Encyclopedia of American Crime.
The Tennessee Encyclopedia of History and Culture.