The Man Who Wouldn't Die: A Seattle Gallows Horror
In a gruesome spectacle that shook the young Territory of Washington, Francis Epps survived his own hanging by mere inches, crying for mercy as the crowd watched him dangle in agony before being cut down.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
A Gallows Horror.
The Cincinnati Enquirer has described the terror which has been felt during the execution recently kept at this city, for the murder of Abraham Worthen.
"The next blade that struck the floor, Mack cap shut out daylight forever from the vision of the murderer, and a second later the trap was sprung. Francis Epps dangling in the air. At the first jerk with the force of sudden tension, fainting and their faces away from the ground in such manner that the knot was over the hanging man's chin, and the fall not having broken his neck, but merely stunned him, he was now free of death, crying for relief, crying let me go! shouted in screams. 'Oh, have mercy on me! Oh, have mercy on me! God, the Father, have mercy on me! Oh, let me go, let me go! Mother! God, help me.'
Father Epping, cut the rope and let me go!' of horror sprang from the audience while the sheriff and Father Epping ran to the spot. 'Shoot him and put him out of his misery,' by-stander. 'Oh, shoot me, shoot me!' ejaculated Epps, who was now fully sensible. 'I was ten years a soldier, shoot me, and don't hang me like a dog.'
'Pull him up!' said one of the sheriff's men. Two strong men seized hold of the rope and dragged the dangling victim, hand over hand, to the platform.
Here he was placed in a chair, while his cries, moans and pleas for mercy would have melted a heart of stone. 'Courage, my son,' said Father Epping, 'think of the sufferings of our Redeemer, and be a man.'
'Oh, Father Epping, for God's sake cut the rope and save me,' prayed the quivering wretch.
Thus he cried until the trap had been readjusted, and then he WAS again lifted on to it. Now his nerves were unstrung, as well as they might be, and he was almost as limp as a rag. He never ceased for mercy, and in the midst of his cries, the trap was sprung. All this time the work was effectually done.
This 1876 account of a botched execution highlights the brutal reality of frontier justice, where the line between law and spectacle was often blurred. While modern capital punishment has moved behind closed doors to avoid such public trauma, the story serves as a grim reminder of the fallibility of human systems and the visceral horror that once defined civic punishment in Seattle.
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