100 Murder Cases

lonely heart that ended at the edge of a hatchet

Catherine Clark was 35, divorced, plump, and lonely.

In the spring of 1928, five years after splitting with her husband, she turned to a matrimonial agency to find someone to love.

Her journey to a ditch in an isolated orchard started with this ad in the agency's newspaper:

BOSTON, MASS — am well thought of, have many friends, but wish to make new acquaintances in this way. I am 35, 5-5, 165; light brown hair, blue eyes, high school education, excellent character, am broadminded, in regards as to religious views. American nationality. Have $2,000 and will inherit $3,000.

Responses poured in. Clark carefully analyzed them all and settled on a man who seemed to have everything she dreamed of — at least on paper.

The name he gave in the letter was James Murphy, of Spokane, Wash. He described himself as "32, dark gray eyes, six feet and two inches, and weigh 200 pounds. I like all kinds of sports. Am true and honest. I shall tell you more if you will please write to me and get acquainted."

Murphy added that he was not a bad looker.

Clark wrote back in a flash.

In his second letter in early July, Murphy revealed even more tantalizing details.

He told her he came from a wealthy family and that when he was much younger, his father tried to force him to marry a girl from the same social set. He refused, much to his father's displeasure. "We had our ups and downs for about a year, and then I left home," he wrote.

Murphy said he remained a bachelor for years. Then his father died, leaving in his will a strong incentive for his estranged son to find a bride. The elder Murphy said that James was set to inherit $100,000, but there was a catch. The money would be given to him only if he met two conditions — he had to have a wife and $10,000, proof that he had made good. Dad had also set a tight deadline that was fast approaching.

So far, James had achieved neither goal, so he took to the lonely hearts ads to find a suitable mate. The criteria were that she had to be available and have about $2,000.

"After our wedding, I will give her five times that amount for a wedding present for her private account and a honeymoon to Europe for three months," he wrote.

Perhaps because he promised to forever call her "sweetheart," Clark believed everything he told her.

By September, Clark had sold her home, closed down her rug repair business, and cleaned out her bank accounts, which came to about $1,700.

Then, despite the pleas of her mother and sister to change her mind, she got on the train to Spokane.

On the way out West, she wrote a parting shot to a man she had been seeing, telling him she was about to inherit a lot of money.

When she arrived in Spokane, she wasn't greeted by tall, handsome Murphy but by a rumpled character with glasses, bulging eyes, and a receding chin. He introduced himself as Archie Moock and told Catherine that Murphy had fallen ill and had asked him to pick up his future bride at the train station. She was to stay with Moock and his family for a few days.

Moock brought her to his home, where Tena, his wife of 11 years, and five children, aged 10 years to 11 months, greeted her warmly. After a short stay, Tena later told police, he and Clark headed off to Murphy's home in Idaho. Moock returned the following day, a Sunday, alone.

That same day, Mr. and Mrs. Grover Tyree, their children, and another couple set out for a picnic in an area known as the Foothills, about 17 miles north of Spokane.

As they were getting ready to leave, they spotted the body of a woman hidden in the bushes in a ditch. Her face was mutilated.

Police arrived and found the murder weapon nearby, a bloody hatchet. Tyree took one look, then blurted out, "This is my hatchet."

He told police that he kept it in the backseat of his car — a Dodge coupe — and that he loaned the car to a friend the night before. That friend was Archie Moock. The two men worked together at a local lumber company.

"HATCHET MURDER CHARGE AGAINST MOOCK TODAY," screamed the front-page headline of The [Spokane] Spokesman-Review on Sept. 25, 1928. "He Lured Woman Here, Slew and Robbed Her, Officials Believe."

Moock insisted that he handed Clark off to Murphy and another man. But there was substantial evidence that he was lying.

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Love letters from Murphy, along with $1390, turned up buried in Moock's garden. The letters were all in the accused's handwriting.

Police grilled him, but Moock would only admit to having written the letters. He insisted to the end that there was a James Murphy and that he had written the letters on the mystery man's behalf.

But no one could find any indication that Murphy ever existed.

The prosecutor called Murphy a "myth," and said the truth was that Moock had killed Clark in an elaborate scheme to get her money.

Moock told his version of the story on the stand, but the jury did not believe him. They quickly found him guilty of Clark's murder. He died on the gallows on Sept. 12, 1930.