They Ran Him to Earth at Kent

Thomas Blanck, the greatest murderer and desperado the Puget Sound country had ever seen, was brought to a fitting end yesterday by his death after he had fired his last bullet in resisting officers of the law. From the hour of his escape he had been pursued so persistently that sleep was almost a stranger to him, and he hardly dared approach a human habitation for food lest his well-known features be recognized. Driven to the woods and hunted like a wild beast, deprived of any chance to take an open road, he wandered weary and hungry, with no hope but that the revolver he knew so well how to handle would force a way through his pursuers. But he had to have food, and that craving was his undoing.

It was the greatest manhunt on record in the Pacific Northwest. From the moment the telephone announced to Sheriff Van de Vanter last Sunday night that Thomas Blanck had broken jail and taken with him eight other desperate characters, the sheriff was constantly in the field. At one time he went sixty-two hours without sleep. He had about thirty men directly engaged in the chase, either regular deputies or volunteers, and their number was frequently doubled or trebled by recruits from every town on the road. Every wagon road, railroad and trail from Seattle southward was guarded.

Yesterday afternoon between 4 and 5 o'clock a man appeared at the farmhouse of James Nelson, about a mile east of Orillia, and asked for something to eat. Nelson was struck with his resemblance to Blanck. After eating, the man left in the direction of Orillia. Nelson hastened to Orillia and informed the telegraph operator that Blanck had just left his house. In a few moments the news reached Kent that the desperado had again made his appearance and had not had time to get out of the lowlands.

Among the first to get the report were Robert Crow, aged 41 years, and John Shepich, aged 63 years, two of the men who had been hunting Blanck ever since the jail break. They armed themselves with Winchester .44-caliber repeating rifles and made a bee-line up the Northern Pacific railroad track. About a mile and a quarter north of Kent the track makes a gradual curve, and the two men had just passed around it when they saw a stranger walking directly toward them in the center of the track about 300 yards away. His hat was drawn down slightly over his eyes and his hands swung at his side.

Shepich was a few feet ahead of Crow, and when the stranger had approached within less than thirty yards he brought his Winchester to his shoulder, covered the man's heart, and cried out: "Throw up your hands." The stranger paid no attention, but looked up coolly. Shepich repeated the command. The man stopped and in a clear, metallic voice said: "What in hell do you want?" There was not a tremor in his voice. Twice had the mandate come forth and still he stood with his hands at his side. Shepich cried a third time: "Up with those hands!"

The words had not fairly issued from his lips when the stranger, with a movement of his right hand that was as quick as chain lightning, drew a black revolver from his hip pocket and fired point-blank into Shepich's face. Shepich staggered, but recovered and fired. Young Crow also fired. The man retreated to a mound in the brush and kept firing until his last cartridge was gone. When he rose with his hands up, Shepich and Crow fired again. He fell and began to writhe. Crow, thinking he was still trying to fight, fired two more shots from about forty feet. The man gasped, his mouth fell open, his limbs relaxed, and death claimed him.

As Tom Crow came up to Shepich, the wounded man said: "Tom, get me to Kent as quickly as possible; I'm shot to death." Shepich was placed on a handcar and rushed to Kent. The body was brought up from the lowland and placed alongside the track. Ex-Policeman John Hanstrom took one look at the cold, white, upturned features and immediately recognized Thomas Blanck. A crowd filled the Kent depot when the body was carried into the waiting room. Sheriff Van de Vanter, who was ten miles down the track, was wired and replied to have the body ready for transportation to Seattle on the first train.

When the train arrived in Seattle at 7:30 o'clock, the depot was black with people. Twelve policemen kept the crowd back as the body was taken to the morgue. An autopsy found that Blanck had been shot seven times, including four wounds from behind; he was completely riddled. Shepich was seriously wounded but was expected to recover.