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John Barry, While Drunk, Treats the Dead Body of His Aged Wife with Brutal Violence – No Adequate Punishment.
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A brief item appeared in these columns yesterday morning on the death of old Mrs. Barry, who has been rooming at the old lodging-house at the corner of Second and F streets.
A brief item appeared in these columns yesterday morning on the death of old Mrs. Barry, who has been rooming at the old lodging-house at the corner of Second and F streets.
It is a case which calls for than a passing notice, as exemplifying the life of a hard-working wife, joined to a worthless and dissolute man. Barry's exploits yesterday were on a par with his previous night's performances. He was in the police court yesterday noon, where he pleaded guilty to a charge of being drunk. The officers, humanely inclined, spoke a good word to the judge for the man, as he was supposed to be overcome with grief, and he was suffered to go, that he might attend his wife's funeral.
He took his
departure and went to the morgue, where his wife's body was lying. Between frequent potations he went in and
out, finally becoming so drunk as to fall down several times, bruising his face
and tumbling over the stove. The police
had to be called in, and he was again conducted to jail.
The reports of his
conduct on the previous night seems so outré and incredible that a reporter was
yesterday detailed to ascertain their truth.
Shortly after 7 o'clock Wednesday evening a roomer in Mrs. Barber's
lodging house came up the back stairs and discovered something in the
hall. A light was brought, and it was
found to be old Mrs. Barry, with life practically extinct in her body. She was carried to her room, and the sisters
at St. Vincent's hospital, who have always interested themselves in Mrs.
Barry's case, were notified. They came
to the house and prepared the body for the grave with snow-white linen and a
cloth upon the face. The watch was given
to Mrs. Barber, the lodging-house keeper, and another lady friend who
volunteered to aid her.
In due course of
time, well fired with liquor, Barry returned home. He went to his room and ordered the women
out. Not being possessed of sufficient
determination they obeyed. Alone with the
corpse of the woman, whose meager and hard-won earnings had been his almost
sole support, the brute began his orgies.
He first laid hold upon the shroud and cloths placed by the Sisters'
loving and tender hands, and tore them from the body. He struck her repeatedly upon the face,
calling upon her to rise. For the first
time, the patient woman failed to do his bidding, and seizing her roughly he
dragged her from the bed to the floor.
BY this time help
had arrived. Two men forced their way
into the room and replaced the body on the bed.
They wiped the blood from the face, covered the battered and bruised
spots, and renewed, as far as they could, the linen coverings.
Barry then drew a knife, and he as he bore the appearance of a maniac, they withdrew. Before the drunken ruffian had time to renew his despoliations, the police arrived, he was conveyed to the station, and the rest of his exploits are already told.
Many old citizens
remember Mrs. Barry. She was a
hard-working industrious woman and a faithful wife. Of late years she has well worn herself out
and such work as sewing, scrubbing, and nursing which the Sisters could throw
her way has been her sole revenue. Barry
has maintained a show of working odd jobs, but the roomers in the house who
knew them say that she has virtually supported both from her slender earnings.
What little money
came into the old brute's pocket was assiduously employed in getting
drunk. He became gradually so enfeebled that,
following a debauch he would spend the entire day in bed. The old lady did her utmost to quiet his
noisy outbursts, and when he slept or was quiet she went in search of work.
John Barry's wife
is dead. Her years of patient and
unrequited toil are all gone by, but even her shroud of death did not detain
her brute of a husband from acts of unspeakable violence which a dog would not
be guilty of to a dead objection of his affection.
Our advanced civilization
such that ninety days in jail is the probable limit to his punishment. There are portions of the West where
brutality such as this is followed without delay by tar and feathers, or a rope
over the limb of the nearest tree.
The old lady's body
still lies at the morgue. Mrs. Barber
has been trying to secure donations upon the street sufficient to give the body
a decent burial.
Barry will appear
in the police court this morning to answer a charge of being drunk and
disorderly. Whatever his plea or
sentence, if he has any feeling when sober, he will not have an enviable memory
to cherish of the death-bed of his faithful wife of so many years.
There is not a
penalty upon the statute books adequate to such an outrage, and the public
sentiment of a community ought be such that no man who has committed such an
act could continue to live in it.
Oregonian. January 4, 1889.
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