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Part 1 the third escape

June 9, 1902-

A foundry gang of men were marched along between the red bricked buildings and the tall white fence of Oregon State Penitentiary in Salem. The men were escorted by guards Girard and Ferrell, to what was expected to be a work detail, likely some construction or grounds maintenance. Some of the men walked with strange limb as though they were unable to move one leg fully, but prisoners had plenty of ailments and the guards took little notice. The fence was made up of iron bars protruding from the ground rising two and a half men tall adorned with spikes, tied together with horizontal white bars.

Ferrell and Girard reached their destination for the work to begin.

‘Count em?’ Ferrell asked in a tone that sounded more like an impatient demand. Girard nodded.

‘Alright, listen here’ Girard started.

‘Ingram.’

‘present’

‘Smith, H.’

‘present’

‘Merrill.’

‘here.’ There was a pause, but Girard continued, but didn’t finish.

‘Tra-‘ Girard was interrupted by a rifle shot that echoed through the penitentiary yard. There stood Harry Tracy, a convicted murderer and thief who’d already escaped jail twice, with a short Winchester rifle pointed at Girard, who had fallen to the ground. During the commotion David Merrill had revealed his hidden Winchester and began to open fire on Ferrell before he could turn to address the situation.

Ingrim, a lifelong prisoner reached up and grabbed the rifle from Tracy, the two struggled for some time for possession of the weapon. Ingrim had initial success in prying the weapon from Tracy until Merrill shot Ingrim in the leg, leaving echoes of the gunfire and Ingrim’s screams to ring out across the yard until he passed out. The only sound left was the wind, carrying the recent commotion in the wind followed by an eerie silence.

Both were panting heavily.

‘Go get a ladder!’

Merrill rushed over to where their work was supposed to begin, there was a ladder there, he hoisted the ladder over his head and brought it to Tracy. Together they each grabbed a side of the ladder and jogged with it to the fence, the two were calmer now. Tracy knew escapes like this, and he knew there was a brief period before anyone else would know what was happening. He knew that by this time the rest of the men from the foundry gang had scattered or returned to their cells, and the news would be out. The men leaned the ladder against the fence and began to climb over. First Merrill, then Tracy.

Once they had scaled the fence, the two immediately turned their focus to the guard in the distance who was patrolling the North west corner near where they exited. The escapes called to the guard who was shot twice only after they turned and grabbed their weapon.

In the distance, in a guard shack along the wall, prison guard Bailey Tiffany spotted the ladder on the fence.

He scowled, and squinted his eyes, drawing his rifle. He saw two figures approaching Guard Jones, who suddenly dropped. Then Tiffany heard the popping shots make their way to his ears.

“Stop!” He shouted.

The two parties stared at each other briefly, having cleared the fence, less than a hundred feet from the dense forest and freedom. The two began to move and Tiffany opened fire, leaning out the guard shack window and expending all his ammunition. The two escapees simultaneously returned fire only briefly. Tiffany had lost his balance and fallen from the guard tower and was now wounded with no ammunition or weapon lying on the ground shouting.

Tracy looked around briefly, taking in his surroundings.

“We have time.” he said to himself nodding. He started towards Tiffany, who was attempting to crawl away from the murderers.

As they approached him, Merrill grabbed Tiffany’s empty rifle.

“W-we should get outta here.” Merrill stammered, Tiffany had stopped shouting at this point, but was breathing heavily.

Tracy calmly picked up Tiffany and began walking backwards towards the edge of the woods, with Merrill behind him, aiming the rifle at whomever may come after them. As they approached the edge of the forest, Tiffany began to struggle again, the two could see there was a commotion beginning at the prison as word of their escape spread, and they could see cars approaching with the Sheriff and his posse.

‘Thanks, friend.’ Tracy said releasing Tiffany only to shoot him dead.

The two escaped into the night hiding in the brush and forest. Although the search remained through the day and into night, they were able to sneak into the neighboring town of Salem.

That night, Merrill and Tracy performed over three separate robberies. The first was a man who named Stewart whom they robbed of his clothes at gunpoint. The next robbery they conducted was of a expressman. An expressman was someone who was responsible for safe delivery of cargo, think truck drivers before 18 wheelers. They held the expressman at gunpoint and demanded overalls, overcoat, and money. Finally, they made their way to the outskirts of Salem to take two horses from a stable.

The convicts were out of their prison clothing, well-armed, had horses, and a propensity for violence. They began making their way North into the night. Tracy knew soon the penitentiary would be sending bloodhounds down from Washington, and he was right. They only had a limited amount of time to ensure the hounds lost their scent.

One of the Old West’s wildest, largest, and most intriguing manhunts had begun.

Notes: This is a rendition of the events surrounding true historical facts. Please keep in mind that sights, sounds, dialogue, etc may not be an exactly historically accurate, I was not alive or in Salem, Oregon 1902. While the author(s) do their best to depict this story as historically accurate as possible, there are some additions for entertainment value.

If you enjoyed this, read the other parts or check out other series here.

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