Madera County has generally been a law-abiding place. Most of the time, law and order has prevailed. Every once in a while, however, the people have taken matters in their own hands by using a rope and the nearest tree to administer justice in old, pioneer fashion. Our local history is filled with such lynchings.
The first hanging to occur within the boundaries of what is now Madera County took place in 1863, when one A. L. Dixon was strung up somewhere between Coarsegold and the Fresno River. He was part of a gang of thieves who had infested the area for sometime, plundering the mining camps and stores. The outlaws primarily confined themselves to robbing the Chinese since they were the least likely to retaliate. Finally, however, the citizens had had enough, so they organized and went after the gang, all of whom got away, except Dixon. They hanged him to the nearest tree and then buried him close by. His grave was still marked as late as 1900.
The next year, another lynching took place in the mountains, and this was also for stealing. James Rains was caught pilfering in his neighborhood. So exasperated were the people over the thefts and depredations, they decided to make an example of Rains, so he was hanged to a tree at Finegold, half way between present day O’Neals and North Fork.
In that same year, 1864, one of the most famous of all local hangings took place along the San Joaquin River, just across from Millerton. The citizens of our first county seat were never known for their patience, and one day a group of six men, disgruntled with the slowness of the wheels of justice, broke into the jail and hauled away an Indian who had been accused of murdering a sheepherder.
Los autoproclamados justicieros llevaron al prisionero a un árbol de ahorcar en el lado norte del río, pero mientras se preparaban para despachar al presunto asesino, ¡descubrieron que, en su prisa, se habían olvidado de traer una cuerda!
At that point, someone spotted young Lilbourne Winchell watching the episode while grazing his calf, which was tied to a long tether. In an instant, the animal was free, and the accused was suspended between heaven and earth. The Winchell lad, “amazed and indignant,” ran to his house and called for his mother. Together, they ran to the scene, but they were too late. The deed had been accomplished. Frontier justice had prevailed once more. Mrs. Winchell took her son and returned home.
Quienes llevaron a cabo la horca nunca fueron aprehendidos y el caso se cerró rápidamente. En cuanto al joven Lilbourne, al día siguiente, cuando fue en busca de su cuerda robada, la encontró en el mismo árbol de la horca con la figura fantasmal de un hombre aún meciéndose de un lado a otro. El juez Lynch se había salido con la suya con la ayuda de un niño y su ternero.
Pasaron nueve años antes de que ocurriera otro linchamiento en la actual Madera County. Al igual que en el caso de la horca de Millerton, el crimen fue nuevamente el asesinato de un pastor de ovejas, esta vez un chino, a manos de dos indios. Fueron colgados cerca de la tienda de Jone, en la orilla norte del río San Joaquín.
Apenas unos meses después de que el viejo juez Lynch resolviera este caso, tuvo que actuar de nuevo. La víctima fue otro indio que fue ahorcado a media milla de Millerton por haber violado a una joven. Huyó a Centerville, en el río Kings, pero posteriormente fue capturado, devuelto a la cabecera del condado y ahorcado.
Of course, history will never forget the lynching of Victor Adams in 1895. Having been accused of shooting his father-in-law, Judge I.L. Baker, to death in an argument over a horse, Adams was apprehended by the dead man’s brother. On the way to the constable, a lynch mob intercepted Adams and his captors and relieved them of their prisoner. In less than an hour, Adams was stretched out beneath the limb of a huge oak tree that still stands on the O’Neals to North Fork road. Such was the contempt with which the community held Adams that they left his body hanging from the tree for two days!
There were, no doubt, other lynchings in the county. In 1893, a local newspaper estimated that there had been at least a hundred vigilante hangings in the county over the prior 37 years. The above examples suffice to show that the writer didn’t miss the mark by much.