Volume 032-1 - January 1978 (6 pages)

George Butts had three weeks in which to prepare for ‘“‘the move,” a prospect that was not conducive to appetite or to sleep. He did little of either. He talked briefly with James Butts, a brother from Ophir who came to see him, but when James volunteered to come again, Butts discouraged him. As the days narrowed in, an attendant was placed in the cell with Butts to make certain the doomed man “did not take himself off and thus defeat justice.” The Transcript carried a brief biography on the man who, by this time, could almost count on the fingers of one hand the heart beats left to him. Butts was born in Kentucky in 1834. Half orphaned by the death of his father when he was 9, Butts became the bread winner with less than a full week of formal schooling to his credit. When he was 1], his mother died and he, with his siblings, was packed off to live with a relative. Four years short of his majority, he ran away to Salt Lake City, and eventually to Auburn, Calif., where a tardy Dame Fortune made partial amend by permitting him modest luck at mining. The Dame quickly deserted him. An $18,000 loan to a “friend,” disappeared when the “friend”? went bankrupt, and a second $550 loan lit out with the borrower for the East. This turn of events, sufficient to unsettle a man of far sturdier stock than Butts, drove him into the woods where he lived for a year on roots and berries and picked up the title of Wild Man. He later entered the army, served a three year enlistment, and drifted back to mining, a field of endeavor that had him earmarked for tragedy. In an argument with William Roberts over a mining claim, Butts was thoroughly bested and close to death by strangulation at the hands of his aggressor, when he drew a knife and stabbed Roberts to death. “Another coupla’ minutes and Butts woulda’ been the victim,” witnesses said. Butts went directly to authorities and gave himself up. On the morning the trial jury was impaneled, the power of the ill wind that was buffeting Butts was felt and put into words by a member of the audience, “‘their minds are already made up what’s to be done with the little fellow.’’ And so it seemed. The several witnesses who, Butts said, would testify in his behalf were never subpoenaed. For his last day on earth, Butts was outfitted with a new suit. At 12:15 p.m., he was taken from his cell and led past an audience of 40 persons including three doctors, H.S. Welch, L.K. Webster and W.D. Jones, to the platform on which stood the scaffold and from which he would listen to the Reverend Davis read the service appointed for visitation of criminals at execution. He then removed his slippers and stepped onto the drop. His limbs were bound with leather straps; a noose was placed around his neck anda black hood was drawn over his head. The trap was opened at precisely 12:30 and Butts plunged seven feet to what, nine minutes later, was pronounced his death. His body was cut down and placea in a coffin, left open for multitudes ot curious to view. It then was taken to Grass Valley for burial by the coroner, but Butts’ brother, James, vowed that as soon as he could scrape together the money, he would have the body removed to Ophir and marked with a cross without epitaph, a final request of George Butts. The Transcript placed full blame for the crime and its consequence on Butts’ ignorance. ‘Ignorance becomes the parent of crime. Intelligence serves as a protection against it,’’ the Transcript proclaimed, heading the story with “Died Likea Stoic..A Victim of Ignorance.” Perhaps it was chance that the execution took place in the month of spooks, but it proved a propitious selection for the jailers. Shortly before ghosts and goblins were to have their hour upon the stage, prisoners housed in close proximity to Butts’ former cell complained of haunts and eerie happenings. They sweated out uncomfortable nights in the iron tank and begged to be moved. The jailers made capital of the situation, warning all recalcitrant inmates to “straighten up or we’ll put you in Butts’ cell.” November was a regretably dry month, sending employment plummeting, but it failed to cloud Thanksgiving celebrations, highlighted by the annual Ladies’ Club party at Hunts Hall. Christmas activity started early in December with special church programs, family reunions, a huge party sponsored by the Independent Base Ball Club at Temperance Hall, and on the actual day, special dinners at the EDITOR‘S NOTE: National and Union Hotels. The festive atmosphere continued until the close of the month with a dance at the Willow Valley School. This had been a year that saw expansion and refinement; a year when the County’s rivers, creeks and mountains spilled out countless fortunes and held back countless others. This was the year in which one death of national significance touched many local residents, that of Mark Hopkins; and one of statewide significance saddened almost every family in the area, that of William Watts. It was the year, also, in whicha wisp of a man, wearing with dignity his shroud of ignorance, moved to another boarding house. EE —E—E—EEe Felix Gillet, founder of the Barren Hill Nursery in Nevada City, and widely known for his development of the filbert nut, displayed even more stylein the summer of 1878 with his Bonne Bouche strawberry, measuring 4 to 6 inches in diameter. The author is moving into her tenth year as a resident of Nevada County. Miss Freeman came here after 25 years as a writer and editor with Dell Publishing Company in New York City. She was graduated from the University of Michigan and edited newspapers in that state for several years before going East. But she is firm in establishing that her roots and her interests are in small towns (born in Goshen, Indiana), and in the rural communities where she believes one can be in more intimate touch with the legends, the humor, the tragedies and the vigor of the people. Clinton H. Lee Nevada County Historical Society

George Butts had three weeks in which to prepare for ‘“‘the move,” a prospect that was not conducive to appetite or to sleep. He did little of either. He talked briefly with James Butts, a brother from Ophir who came to see him, but when James volunteered to come again, Butts discouraged him. As the days narrowed in, an attendant was placed in the cell with Butts to make certain the doomed man “did not take himself off and thus defeat justice.” The Transcript carried a brief biography on the man who, by this time, could almost count on the fingers of one hand the heart beats left to him. Butts was born in Kentucky in 1834. Half orphaned by the death of his father when he was 9, Butts became the bread winner with less than a full week of formal schooling to his credit. When he was 1], his mother died and he, with his siblings, was packed off to live with a relative. Four years short of his majority, he ran away to Salt Lake City, and eventually to Auburn, Calif., where a tardy Dame Fortune made partial amend by permitting him modest luck at mining. The Dame quickly deserted him. An $18,000 loan to a “friend,” disappeared when the “friend”? went bankrupt, and a second $550 loan lit out with the borrower for the East. This turn of events, sufficient to unsettle a man of far sturdier stock than Butts, drove him into the woods where he lived for a year on roots and berries and picked up the title of Wild Man. He later entered the army, served a three year enlistment, and drifted back to mining, a field of endeavor that had him earmarked for tragedy. In an argument with William Roberts over a mining claim, Butts was thoroughly bested and close to death by strangulation at the hands of his aggressor, when he drew a knife and stabbed Roberts to death. “Another coupla’ minutes and Butts woulda’ been the victim,” witnesses said. Butts went directly to authorities and gave himself up. On the morning the trial jury was impaneled, the power of the ill wind that was buffeting Butts was felt and put into words by a member of the audience, “‘their minds are already made up what’s to be done with the little fellow.’’ And so it seemed. The several witnesses who, Butts said, would testify in his behalf were never subpoenaed. For his last day on earth, Butts was outfitted with a new suit. At 12:15 p.m., he was taken from his cell and led past an audience of 40 persons including three doctors, H.S. Welch, L.K. Webster and W.D. Jones, to the platform on which stood the scaffold and from which he would listen to the Reverend Davis read the service appointed for visitation of criminals at execution. He then removed his slippers and stepped onto the drop. His limbs were bound with leather straps; a noose was placed around his neck anda black hood was drawn over his head. The trap was opened at precisely 12:30 and Butts plunged seven feet to what, nine minutes later, was pronounced his death. His body was cut down and placea

in a coffin, left open for multitudes ot curious to view. It then was taken to Grass Valley for burial by the coroner, but Butts’ brother, James, vowed that as soon as he could scrape together the money, he would have the body removed to Ophir and marked with a cross without epitaph, a final request of George Butts. The Transcript placed full blame for the crime and its consequence on Butts’ ignorance. ‘Ignorance becomes the parent of crime. Intelligence serves as a protection against it,’’ the Transcript proclaimed, heading the story with “Died Likea Stoic...A Victim of Ignorance.” Perhaps it was chance that the execution took place in the month of spooks, but it proved a propitious selection for the jailers. Shortly before ghosts and goblins were to have their hour upon the stage, prisoners housed in close proximity to Butts’ former cell complained of haunts and eerie happenings. They sweated out uncomfortable nights in the iron tank and begged to be moved. The jailers made capital of the situation, warning all recalcitrant inmates to “straighten up or we’ll put you in Butts’ cell.” November was a regretably dry month, sending employment plummeting, but it failed to cloud Thanksgiving celebrations, highlighted by the annual Ladies’ Club party at Hunts Hall. Christmas activity started early in December with special church programs, family reunions, a huge party sponsored by the Independent Base Ball Club at Temperance Hall, and on the actual day, special dinners at the EDITOR‘S NOTE: National and Union Hotels. The festive atmosphere continued until the close of the month with a dance at the Willow Valley School. This had been a year that saw expansion and refinement; a year when the County’s rivers, creeks and mountains spilled out countless fortunes and held back countless others. This was the year in which one death of national significance touched many local residents, that of Mark Hopkins; and one of statewide significance saddened almost every family in the area, that of William Watts. It was the year, also, in whicha wisp of a man, wearing with dignity his shroud of ignorance, moved to another boarding house. EE —E—E—EEe Felix Gillet, founder of the Barren Hill Nursery in Nevada City, and widely known for his development of the filbert nut, displayed even more stylein the summer of 1878 with his Bonne Bouche strawberry, measuring 4 to 6 inches in diameter. The author is moving into her tenth year as a resident of Nevada County. Miss Freeman came here after 25 years as a writer and editor with Dell Publishing Company in New York City. She was graduated from the University of Michigan and edited newspapers in that state for several years before going East. But she is firm in establishing that her roots and her interests are in small towns (born in Goshen, Indiana), and in the rural communities where she believes one can be in more intimate touch with the legends, the humor, the tragedies and the vigor of the people. Clinton H. Lee Nevada County Historical Society