Murder

On Tuesday, December 2, 1902, the simmering feud between Arthur Pennell and Edwin Burdick boiled over in spectacular fashion.

The two had been together for some time when fists began pounding on the front door. Arthur looked out a window and must have been stunned to see that their unexpected guests were none other than Ed Burdick and his detectives, who had apparently tailed them to their hideaway. 

Arthur told Allie that he would handle the interlopers and advised her to escape through a rear window, get to the Church of the Messiah, and lie low there until she felt that the coast was clear.

She waited at the church until almost six o’clock, when she returned home to find Edwin waiting to pounce. His detectives had given him a full report, he said, and the time had come for Allie to leave home—for good. He had had enough.

“But what about the children and my mother?” she protested. “And it’s almost Christmas!”

She returned home around nine o’clock to a locked front door—which was something unusual. The Burdicks had never made a regular practice of locking up the house, even at night. The kids and their friends came and went, as did the Burdicks’ two live-in servants, a cook and a housemaid, and locking and unlocking the front door was an unnecessary nuisance—unless someone had something to fear. Fortunately Allie had a key in her purse (one of four in the household). 

The next day, she collected what things she needed—the rest would be shipped whenever she found permanent quarters—and prepared to leave. On the doorstep, an implacable Ed handed her a copy of his divorce complaint and said a final goodbye to his wife of sixteen years. 

“Oh, and Arthur can pay for everything from now on,” Ed added as the door closed behind her.

Allie rode to Central Station, where Arthur was waiting for her. They had decided to regroup in Niagara Falls, where Arthur registered Allie at the Prospect House. They dined together and discussed their predicament, and then Arthur returned to Buffalo, leaving Allie alone and, I tend to think, adrift.

Winter in a summer tourist town can be cold and lonely, and after a few days the pair decided that Allie needed to hole up someplace less depressing. They chose New York—which would be done up in cheerful style for Christmas. Arthur engaged rooms first at the Hotel Roland and then at the Hotel Buckingham, the latter a family-oriented hotel (i.e., not full of transient Lotharios) on 50^th Street and Fifth Avenue, today the location of the Sak’s & Company department store. In the metropolis Arthur and Allie could hide in plain sight. They enjoyed meals together, attended stage shows, and took in the sights of the festive season. And Arthur did indeed pay all of Alice Burdick’s expenses.

Yet this was no carefree pleasure trip. At the Roland Hotel, an inebriated Arthur had gotten to talking with two employees in the hotel’s bar. “You’re drinking like a man with a purpose,” one of the men observed after Arthur had consumed more than a half-dozen drinks. Arthur nodded and said, “You boys don’t know what’s passing through my mind tonight,” he said “There’s one man I could kill, even if I went to the gallows for it. At the same time, I am having the best time of my life–at another man’s expense.” Arthur then made some off-color remarks about the barroom’s large painting of a nude woman, and raised his glass. The two men followed suit, waiting for Arthur’s toast:

“Here’s to death,” Arthur said.

Carrie Pennell joined them at the Buckingham, and the trio remained in New York for three weeks, interrupted only by Arthur’s brief return to Buffalo around New Year’s. Other than that, Allie saw Arthur every day, sometimes more than once—though Carrie opted not to join them. That said, Carrie and Arthur must have talked, because about February 20, Ed Burdick received a letter from Carrie Pennell:

Dear Ed,

I feel impelled by some power to send you one more word of warning—although you disregarded my note of a week ago.

Carrie then pleads at some length with Ed to take Allie back—again for the sake of the children—but this time closes with a little bombshell: 

Allie is going to Atlantic City, and what the end of that trip will be, no one can tell. –C.

Arthur arrived in Buffalo on the morning of February 25. He spent the day meeting with friends and checking on a few repairs being made to his electric automobile. Edwin Burdick went about his business, too, though probably anxious awaiting his wife’s impending answer to the divorce suit, which was due in less than forty-eight hours.

The next morning, February 26, was cold and clear, with the forecast calling for snow late that evening. Ed spent the day at his factory, and then around five o’clock met with his attorneys to talk over the divorce. Then he went home, shined his shoes with an electric buffer he had purchased, read a bedtime story to his daughters, and said he was going to read a bit before turning in.

He returned downstairs to stoke the furnace. Around ten-thirty, one of the domestics—returning from her day off—surprised Ed in his underclothing, standing just outside the door to his den. Without acknowledging her, Ed quietly slipped into the den.

There is more to come, but for now I’ll add that the only perimortem wounds found on Ed’s body were a badly contused hand and a broken finger—classic defensive wounds. Ed had seen his killer or killers and understood their intention; he had thrown up a hand to ward off a blow aimed at his head. After that, his killer or killers finished the job decisively.

Ed Burdick was dead—and had died while still married to Allie. The divorce case was over.

Next: The Investigation

This article is from Robert’s weekly non-fiction column on Buffalo Rising. Read more on Robert’s website about the case, and read The Unsealing, the award-winning novel inspired by the Burdick murder.