Last Sunday morning, about ten o’clock, Sheriff Lewis was notified that Hon. O, Poppleton’s store at Birmingham had been burglarized the night before, and an unknown crook fatally shot. Deputy Wiggins went down to B’ham, and unon his return the particulars of the affair were learned by our citizens. In order to get at all the facts a Bill Poster reporter visited Birmingham, and we are indebted to Stephen Cooper, Hon. O. Poppleton, and others for the following:
About two o’clock Sunday morning Mrs, R. J. Mitchell, who lives on the west side of main street, was awakened by the continued and furious barking of a dog, and looking out of the window discovered a man across the street trying to unlock the front door of the Poppleton store. In this he was not successful, and at once went around the store on the south side, and disappeared from view. Mrs. M. aroused her husband,and the latter, accompanied by another gentleman, lost no time in notifying Mr. E. C. the eldest son of Hon. O. Poppleton. A suspicious character had been in the store about ten o’clock the night before, and Edgar had his suspicions aroused, and wanted to sleep in the store, but was pursuaded not to do so. He was not surprised, therefore, to learn that burglars were at work, and with his father-in-law, Stephen Cooper, was soon in readiness to visit the premises. They quietly left the house, which is in the same yard as the store, by the back way, and upon reaching the rear of the store discovered two windows open on the north side of the building, one upstairs, where an entrance had been effected, the other on the ground floor and evidently to be used as an exit in case of alarm.
Mr. Poppleton, who was armed with a self-cocking revolver, said to his father-in-law who had no weapon, “you go around on the south side of the building and make a noise, and I will stand here by the window and capture the thief.” Mr. C. followed instructions by slamming a gate at the south-east corner against the house, and had barely turned around when he heard pistol shots, and rushing to the assistance of Mr. P. found the latter engaged in a struggle for life with a big, strong man. Cooper’s strong right hand was soon at the villian’s throat, and to his timely assistance young Poppleton doubtless owes his life.
When the burglar appeared at the window, brave Mr. P. in a spirit of fairness seldom heard of, called “halt” to the intruder, and was about to demand his surrender when the click of a revolver caused the young man to dodge and the ball from the burglar’s shooting iron grazed his skull. Mr. P. returned the compliment, shooting the burglar in the neck, and the next instant the robber was on the ground and shot at Poppelton again. The latter ducked his head again just in time to save his life, receiving another scalp wound on top of his head, and grasping the robber’s pistol arm held his own revolver to the burglar’s side and stomach, and kept pulling the trigger till the five chambers were empty. This kind of medicine soon commenced to tell on. the rascal, but he was good grit, and still made a desperate resistance. Up to this time he had used Poppelton's navy revolver that he had found in the store,and attempted to get his own, but Mr. P was too quick for him, and drawing the burglar’s own weapon, threatened to send more cold lead into the robber’s body. This, with thearguments already brought forward by Messrs. Poppelton and Cooperhad the desired effect. To be on the safe side Mr. Cooper held the burglar on the ground till assistance arrived, and he was taken to a room in the National Hotel, where he died three hours later after terrible suffering. All five chambers of Poppleton’s weapon were emptied into the burglar, with possibly the exception of one balls which struck the wooden blind at the window where the burglar came out, and three chambers'in the navy revolver are empty, showing that Kennedy shot three times. Every time Poppleton shot Kennedy while in each other’s embrace, the latters clothes were set on fire and Cooper extinguished the young conflagration. If old Oakland holds two more brave men than Messrs. Poppleton and Cooper we have yet to learn their names. Kennedy never showed the white feather, steadily refused to tell his name, but intimated there were parties in town who knew him, and begged those present to put him out of his sufferings.
Mr. Poppleton, the hero of the occasion, was promptly attended by Drs. Post and Reynolds, who dressed his scalp wounds, and as we go to press we learn by telephone that the plucky young man is getting along finely with his sore head, and will soon recover.
Deputy Beattie telephoned Sup’t of police Conely to send out a detective to see if the dead man couldn’t be identified. Detectives Bishop and McGuire, were dispatched to the scene, and they had no trouble in recognizing the deceased as J. P. Kennedy, who lived at 737 Third street, Detroit, neary opposite Bishop’s home, where his mother and family reside.
A coroner’s inquest was commenced, the doctors made an examination of the wounds, and adjourned till tomorrow. Guess it won’t bother the jurors to find a verdict in accordance with the facts.
Sunday hundred of citizens viewed, the dead burglar, and upon our visit we found the remains at Beattie’s undertaking rooms in an ice cooler, the best spot in the world for a cracksman’s body.
Monday night a Detroit undertaker claimed the remains, and the nine o’clock train carried a desperate criminal in life to his late Detroit home.
Kennedy, alias Ryan, is the same fellow who went through Broughton’s meat market, Pontiac, in 1877, for which he was arrested, convicted and sentenced to prison, but was pardoned by a Republican Governor after serving a year or two. Shortly before his arrest for the burglary above mentioned, he exchanged several shots with, Sheriff Stanton one night at Royal Oak, while running away from that officer.
That Kennedy had companions at B’ham, there is no doubt, but they failed to notify the robber to flee, and when the firing commenced lost no time in jumping the town. The burglar had a good kit of tools in his possession, and was prepared to crack a safe or unlock anything with his skeleton keys of various sizes. When disturbed he had about $3 in change tied up in his handkerchief, that he had stolen from the store.
By request, W. H. Brummitt, the artist, went down and took photos of the dead burglar and the premises where the shooting occurred. Monday afternoon these photos were ready for distribution, a fact that is quite a feather in Pontiac’s enterprising photographer’s cap