Terrifying & True | The Unsolved Terror of The Axeman of New Orleans

The Unsolved Terror of The Axeman of New Orleans

On a dark and damp night on March 18, 1919, the air of New Orleans was filled with the sound of jazz. It wasn't a night for partying, though. People were scared, really scared. They played jazz not to celebrate, but because they feared for their lives.

This fear was due to a scary situation in the city. A mysterious person was going around hurting people badly. This person sneaked into houses at night and hit people in the head with a hatchet or axe. 

The worst part? These tools often belonged to the victims themselves or were found nearby. It was like a nightmare come to life. This person was like a monster hiding in the shadows, making everyone in New Orleans very scared. They would do anything, even play jazz all night, if it meant keeping themselves and their loved ones safe.

This is the tale of The Axeman of New Orleans, a specter of terror who, over a century ago, turned nights into nightmares and homes into scenes of horror.

The Shadow of the Axeman

For a long stretch of time, starting in May 1918 and lasting until October 1919, the people of New Orleans lived in deep fear. They were haunted by a mysterious figure they called the "Axeman". This horror story began when a shopkeeper named Joseph Maggio and his wife, Catherine, were found terribly hurt in their home above their shop on May 23, 1918. While they slept, someone had cut their throats with a razor and then hit their heads with an ax. The police, trying to solve the crime, found bloody clothes that the killer had left behind. It looked like the killer had changed into clean clothes before running away. Nothing was stolen from the house, even though there were valuable things around. A strange message written nearby in chalk said something about Mrs. Maggio. The police talked to a bunch of people but didn't have enough proof to keep anyone.

Not even two months later, another shopkeeper named Louis Besumer and his lady friend, Harriet Lowe, were attacked just like the Maggio couple. Early on June 27, 1918, they were also found bleeding and hurt. Although they had gotten hit in the head with an ax, they were somehow still alive. The police grabbed someone they thought might be guilty, but they had to let him go. The newspapers talked a lot about it, especially about the woman being the man's mistress. Harriet tried to fix her face with surgery because it had been damaged, but she did not make it. Before dying, she pointed her finger at Besumer himself. They locked him up for months, but later, a jury decided he didn't do it after just talking about it for ten minutes.

Then, on August 5, a woman named Mrs. Edward Schneider, who was almost ready to have a baby, woke up to a scary sight: a shadowy person standing over her. She got hit in the face over and over. Her husband came home from work and found her injured. She was covered in blood, but she managed to survive and had a healthy baby just a couple of days later. Again, the police arrested someone but couldn't prove anything.

Just like that, only five days afterward, an old shopkeeper named Joseph Ramano was hit in the head in his home. His nieces heard noises and saw a man leaving quickly. Mr. Ramano was hurt badly but could still walk a little when help arrived. Sadly, he died because his injuries were too bad. The nieces said the man they saw was big and dark-skinned and wore dark clothes and a hat.

Every time something terrible like this happened, the police noticed the same things: places were messed up but nothing was taken; the bad guy used tools he found in the homes; he broke through doors or windows to get in; and a lot of those who got hurt or killed were Italian merchants. The city was gripped in fear. Who would be next, and why was this happening? Everyone was wondering, and nobody felt safe. The Axeman was still out there, somewhere in the shadows.

Echoes of Terror Continues in New Orleans

Reports flooded the police stations with sightings of a mysterious Axeman prowling the streets. Desperate to keep their families safe, people armed themselves and stood guard through the night. The city buzzed with rumors—one claimed the Axeman disguised himself as a woman, another that he leaped over fences like a shadow in the night.

Amidst this growing panic, the Axeman's violent spree seemed to pause. The relief was palpable as people slowly let go of their fear, trickling back into the semblance of normal life. Then, just as the city exhaled, the horror returned with a vengeance on March 10, 1919.

Charles Cortimiglia, a grocer from Gretna—a stone's throw from New Orleans—, his wife, Rosie, and their little daughter, Mary, were the next victims. On that dreadful night, Lorlando Jordano, their neighbor and another grocer, rushed to their aid, drawn by their screams. What he found was a scene of carnage.

Rosie had faced the Axeman, watching in terror as her husband fought and fell before the assailant turned on her and their daughter. Despite her pleas, the killer showed no mercy, striking them with his terrible axe.

When Lorlando arrived, he discovered Charles badly hurt, Rosie wounded but standing, tragically holding their lifeless daughter. The couple survived, barely, after rushed medical attention for severe head injuries. The neighborhood was reeling, the fear once again alive and tightening its grip around their hearts.

In a bewildering twist, Rosie accused Lorlando Jordano and his son Frank of the atrocious attack. It seemed impossible—Lorlando, aged and frail, and Frank, too large to fit through the door the Axeman had entered through. Yet, despite the improbabilities and Charles's denial of Rosie's claim, both Jordanos were arrested, tried, and found guilty in a trial that shook the community. Frank faced the gallows and Lorlando's life imprisonment.

The story took another turn when Charles divorced Rosie, who later admitted her accusations were lies bred from jealousy and spite. This confession led to the Jordano's release, but the scars of the ordeal remained.

A Letter That Terrified New Orleans

The city of New Orleans was shrouded in fear and uncertainty after the brutal attack on the Cortimiglia family, which ended a young life, that of two-year-old Mary. This tangible dread intensified significantly after a local newspaper, The Times-Picayune, published an alarming communication on March 16, 1919. This letter claimed to be from the perpetrator himself, the infamous Axeman. The contents of the letter, a blend of taunts and spine-tingling threats, further escalated the city-wide panic.

And here is the unsettling letter, exactly as it was published:

Hell, March 13, 1919

Editor of The Times-Picayune,

New Orleans:

Esteemed Mortal: They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a fell demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the axman.

When I see fit, I shall come again and claim other victims. I alone know whom they shall be. I shall leave no clue except my bloody ax, besmeared with the blood and brains of he whom I have sent below to keep me company.

If you wish you may tell the police to be careful not to rile me. Of course, I am a reasonable spirit. I take no offense at the way in which they have conducted their investigations in the past. In fact, they have been so utterly stupid so as to amuse not only me, but His Satanic Majesty, Francis Josef, etc. But tell them to beware. Let them not try to discover what I am, for it were better that they never were born than for them to incur the wrath of the axman. I don’t think there is any need of such a warning, for I feel sure that your police will always dodge me, as they have in the past. They are wise and know how to keep away from all harm.

Undoubtedly, you Orleanians think of me as a most horrible murderer, which I am, but I could be much worse if I wanted to. If I wished to I could pay a visit to your city every night. At will I could slay thousands of your best citizens, for I am in close relationship with the Angel of Death.

Now, to be exact, at 12:15 o’clock (earthly time) on next Tuesday night, I am going to pass over New Orleans. In my infinite mercy, I am going to make a little proposition to the people. Here it is:

I am very fond of jazz music, and I swear by all the devils in the nether regions, that every person shall be spared in whose house a jazz band is in full swing at the time I have just mentioned. If everyone has a jazz band going, well, then, so much the better for the people. One thing is certain and that is some of those persons who do not jazz it on Tuesday night (if there be any) will get the ax.

Well, as I am cold and crave the warmth of my native Tartarus, and as it is about time that I have left your homely earth, I will cease my discourse. Hoping that thou wilt publish this, that it may go well with thee. I have been, am and will be the worst spirit that ever existed either in fact or the realm of fancy.

—The Axeman

Despite the bone-chilling nature of this proclamation, those who have scrutinized the letter over the years, including experts in historical analysis and criminal psychology, doubt the likelihood that the true Axeman penned it. 

Nevertheless, the letter achieved its aim, spreading an unease so profound that jazz music resonated through the homes of New Orleans on the specified date and time, as the city sought to ward off the presence of an unseen and menacing threat.

The Final Acts of the Axeman

In an unparalleled act of defiance, New Orleans turned to jazz for salvation. Following the Axeman's chilling promise, not a single soul was claimed on March 19, as jazz filled every corner of the city. Dance halls overflowed, homes became concert stages, and the city united in rhythm, effectively silencing the killer's threat.

For a time, peace seemed to return, but the shadow of fear never fully lifted. The quiet was shattered on August 10, 1919, when another grocer, Steve Boca, became the latest target. Awoken to a nightmarish figure and a sharp pain, Boca narrowly escaped death. Clinging to life, he sought help from a neighbor before succumbing to unconsciousness, the details of his assailant lost in the haze of trauma. His home bore the Axeman's signature: a chiseled entryway and no theft.

The city's terror was fueled further when William Carson, a druggist, survived an attempt on his life by firing at the intruder. The aftermath left behind a battered door and an abandoned ax. Merely a day later, Sarah Laumann, a young girl living alone, wasn't so fortunate. Found unconscious and badly wounded, she survived, but the chilling sight of a bloodied ax on her lawn echoed the grim pattern.

The atmosphere in New Orleans was explosive, a mix of fear and disbelief, as the Axeman seemed to vanish as quickly as he had appeared. However, the silence broke again on October 27, 1919, with the brutal murder of Mike Pepitone, a grocer. His wife, a witness to the aftermath, found herself a widow, her description of the assailant as elusive as the Axeman himself, leaving behind the usual cryptic clues but taking with him a life and leaving a family shattered.

Despite relentless efforts by the authorities, the trail turned cold. Mike Pepitone's tragic death marked the last whisper of the Axeman's terror. He vanished into the night, his shadow forever lingering in the lore of New Orleans, a specter of fear and mystery that had once danced with jazz as its unlikely countermeasure.

The Eerie Silence After the Storm!

Once the jazz stopped and the city tried to find its rhythm again, an eerie legend began to take hold. The story goes, there was an old hotel in New Orleans, known simply and chillingly as The Haunted Hotel. Local tales whispered that this was where the Axeman hid, nestled in its dark rooms whilst he planned his next terrifying move. The community believed that even after his last known crime, his ghostly presence never left.

Tucked away behind the hotel was a small courtyard, a place that felt different, unnervingly so. Visitors stepping into this area couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Some reported glimpsing shadows that moved without cause, others told of inexplicable sights—pools of blood that appeared only to vanish and mysterious voices captured on recording devices. And then there were the odd occurrences with cellphones—signals lost, batteries draining in moments, as if the very essence of the killer lingered, meddling with the living.

These stories traveled from mouth to mouth, each person adding their own touch, making the Haunted Hotel a spot of morbid fascination. Though the Axeman himself had slipped away, leaving a trail of unanswered questions, the fear he brought to New Orleans seemed to find a home in this hotel, haunting the city just as his memory continues to haunt history.