Lizzie McDaniels packed her belongings and quickly left the elaborate 1,800-acre Rancocas Stables in Johnstown, New Jersey, where she lived. She couldn’t get to Rhode Island fast enough to suit her. Having finally arrived at the State Prison in Cranston, she told attorney John Brennan that he was to spare no expense in defending her fiancé, James Mathes, against a charge of murder.

A native of New York, James was employed as a stable boy at the 37-acre Narragansett Race Track in Cranston. The job had caused him immense anxiety and emotional upheaval due to the ongoing actions of a co-worker named Monk Saunders. Monk didn’t like James and went out of his way to make each work day as tumultuous as possible for him, regularly inciting the other track employees to harass James as well.

On the morning of June 9, 1894, James stopped into the restaurant on the race track grounds, owned by Edward Chapman, to have his breakfast. While there, he was conversing with a waiter about the cost of soft drinks when Monk and another employee, David Stewart, appeared and began hurling insults at James, who didn’t respond. Quickly becoming upset at being ignored, Monk picked up a drinking glass and heaved it at James. James didn’t want to engage in any altercations with Monk so got up to leave but Monk was able to slug him with a bottle before he departed. His hand slashed open quite badly, James exited the restaurant, dripping blood. He was afraid of Monk and everyone knew it.

Monk hadn’t quite had enough fun. He later rounded up several other employees and informed them that he would take their lives unless they assisted him in killing James. Once they sighted James, they began chasing him. Monk bent down to pick up a stick and ran fast enough to catch up with James, hitting him over the head with it. James kept running and entered the track’s blacksmith shop where a man named Thomas Doyle, from Coney Island, was standing. James begged him to prevent Monk and his cronies from hurting him. Seeing others in the blacksmith shop when he entered, Monk backed down. But he left James with some parting words. “If I get you up to the shed, I’ll cut your damn heart out.”    

With tears of torment and fear running down his face, James left the race track for a short amount of time then re-turned. The local country club was holding a running meet there that day. When he returned, he entered one of the three stables on the property to resume his work. Not much time had passed before Monk and another man appeared, both holding rocks. They began throwing the rocks at James and he ran from the area.

Later in the day, James entered the stable again to show a man one of the horses. He had no idea that Monk was in there waiting for him. Monk raised a large club high in the air but was grounded by three gunshots through the right lung before he could bring the weapon down on James. Tired of being fearful, James had gone into town a short time earlier and purchased a revolver. As people raced to the scene of the gunshots, one man got down and asked the bloody victim, “What’s your name?”

“Monk,” he whispered, as his last breath left his body.

James turned and handed the weapon to a man named Ralph Black. “It was his life or mine,” he explained. “I had to do it.”

James made no attempt to run. He asked only that he be protected from Monk’s friends before the police could get there to arrest him. He then voluntarily confessed to the shooting, was arraigned on a charge of murder and held without bail.

No one claimed the body of Monk Saunders and he was finally buried in the pauper’s lot at North End Cemetery. At 5:20 on the evening of Oct. 10, a jury retreated to a back room to decide the fate of James. They reached a decision before midnight and, the following morning at 9:30, announced they had found James not guilty as he had killed Monk in self-defense.

James when very calm when he stood and faced the jury. “Mr. Foreman and gentlemen of the jury,” he said in a clear voice. “I thank you as only a man can who has been in the terrible position I was placed in.” He then shook the hand of each and every one of them before leaving the courthouse as a free man. Upon being told that his revolver would be returned to him, he stated that he would like to give it to the Rhode Island Attorney General to use in an enclosed exhibit maintained by the State. 

Kelly Sullivan is a Rhode Island columnist, lecturer and author.