As one study puts it, “the careful investigation of murder reveals much about the crime and the society in which the crime occurred.”1 Accordingly, the stories of Olson, Bradley, Kensler, and the wielders of mountain law are filled with a concern for the protection— and policing—of sexuality and female behavior, a concern that can be seen in the use of the “unwritten law” and the idealization of womanhood according to nineteenth-century standards. They also show the tremendous role that newspapers played in the shaping of public opinion and the execution of justice. Finally, Kensler’s time in the Idaho State Penitentiary demonstrates the dangers and inequities women might encounter in a prison system created for men. Well you might ask what is meant by the “unwritten law.” This was a belief, current in America at least throughout the 1800s and into the early 1900s, that if a man caught another
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man engaged in some form of sexual impropriety with his wife, daughter, or sister, then he could rightfully take that fellow’s life. As Kenneth L. Cannon II established forty years ago, this extralegal concept—called “mountain common law” by George A. Smith—swayed many a Utah jury. The unwritten law, as some nineteenth-century Utahns argued, made it clear that Utah’s men would protect feminine virtue. Yet this was hardly a Utah phenomenon. The unwritten law flourished because many Americans placed a high premium on sexual purity but also perceived women as weak. Then, as the century turned, talk began of a “new unwritten law”: one that justified a woman for killing a man who had grossly mistreated her. Juries proved themselves willing to acquit women who invoked the new unwritten law against the men who had misused them—as did Olson and Bradley—and it provided society with a palliative method for dealing with rape and abuse. Not coincidentally, the attorney Orlando W. Powers represented both Olson and Bradley by using the insanity defense and, less overtly, the unwritten law.
U H Q
Most editions of Utah Historical Quarterly don’t begin life as a special issue—that is, one for which the editors solicit articles on a certain topic. Rather, we usually group articles together based on any number of factors, including content. From time to time, however, a few manuscripts come across our desks that clearly speak to one another. That is what happened with the current edition of UHQ, which features three articles on a decidedly sensational topic: women who murdered their husbands or lovers. The main characters in these articles are Amanda Olson, the working-class daughter of Swedish immigrants; Annie Bradley, a young mother who became entangled with a senator; and Josie Kensler, a farm wife who married at fourteen. The spring number is rounded out by revisiting a UHQ classic on “mountain common law,” which directly bears on the subject of gender, violence, and sexuality. As a group, the articles cover a relatively short time span, from the 1850s to 1907.
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These case—the crimes themselves, their coverage in the press, and the ensuing trials— hinged on expressions of what a woman should be and how society should deal with womanhood and sexuality. Much has been made of the classic Victorian woman, she who was submissive, domestic, religious, and pure, and the concept of “true womanhood” runs throughout this issue. Attorneys and reporters alike served up depictions of Bradley as a dedicated mother and of Olson as the beloved daughter of a pious, humble home. Conversely, Kensler’s history of infidelity apparently gave her neighbors reason to suspect her of foul play. Perhaps the willingness of jurors to see Olson and Bradley as respectable, if misguided, women saved them from the death penalty, while Kensler’s reputation as a slattern and a flirt shaded opinion in the other direction.
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