The Postcard Killer: J. Frank Hickey

At the peak of the axeman of New Orleans crimes in 1919, newspapers published a letter allegedly written by the killer.

It confessed to the slayings, threatening more would come, but promised to spare anyone who played jazz music.

That night, the city lit up with jazz, and there were no attacks.

Some say the killer really was obsessed with jazz.

Others say it was an elaborate hoax preying on the community's terror.

And with no killer caught, no one can say the letters weren't a hoax.

In other towns, letters signed Jack the Ripper and the Zodiac received a similar reaction.

Perhaps it's just a troublemaker stirring up panic.

That's certainly what the Lackawanna police thought in 1911.

The postcards they received were a hoax.

A sick joke.

Except in this case,

they were real.

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October 12th, 1911 seemed like any other Thursday in Lackawanna, New York.

Eight-year-old Joey Joseph stopped home after school, dropped off his books, and went out to play with the neighborhood kids.

That day, Joey and his friend Gordon played near a bridge close to Joey's home.

Around 4 p.m., a well-dressed, middle-aged man approached.

Would they like some candy?

The two boys happily followed the man to a candy store.

There, he bought Joey and Gordon lemon suckers.

The man took Joey by the hand, but not Gordon.

He told Gordon to wait at the end of the bridge.

Then, the man and Joey walked away.

Gordon waited and waited, but Joey and the stranger never returned.

After a while, a passerby told Gordon to go home soon or his mother would worry, so Gordon headed home.

He'd never see his friend Joey again.

When Joey didn't come home that night, his parents grew incredibly concerned.

It wasn't like him to stay out late.

George and Myra Josephs quickly alerted the Lackawanna Police and Chief Ray Gilson.

Gilson was fairly new to his posting.

He'd only been police chief for about two years.

Eager to solve the disappearance quickly, he personally spearheaded the search.

Within a day, Gilson got his first tip.

A witness reported seeing Joey on a streetcar leaving town.

He was crying and seemingly in the care of a middle-aged man.

Without much else for leads, police wondered why the man would have kidnapped Joey.

They came up with two theories.

One, ransom.

Joey's parents owned a furniture store and were fairly well off.

Two, revenge.

Perhaps Joey's father had upset someone and they took Joey as payback.

George Joseph's told officers he didn't have any known enemies, but quickly offered a $500 ransom.

With the ransom on the table, Chief Gilson alerted police departments in nearby cities to be on the lookout for Joey.

In this first week, Joey's friend Gordon didn't come forward, so the police were grasping at straws and running out of steam.

Lackawanna was a small city with limited resources, so Chief Gilson brought in reinforcements, the Buffalo Police.

Their superintendent, Michael Regan, took the search wider, contacting police chiefs across the United States and even Canada.

He provided Joey's description.

Dark hair and eyes, under four feet tall, gaps in his smile where he'd lost baby teeth.

Regan asked the precincts to be on the lookout.

Meanwhile, the reward for Joey's safe return grew, from $500 to $1,000.

A lot of money in 1911.

None of this helped.

By October 23rd, 11 days after Joey disappeared, Police Chief Gilson admitted they were no closer to a solution than on the day they started.

Gilson told the Buffalo Times, We are entirely in the dark.

The boy was kidnapped, and we shall stick to it until we find young Joseph dead or alive.

Around this time, officers searched the surrounding lakes, swamps, and canals.

Both the Josephs and Chief Gilson thought it was unlikely Joey drowned, but Chief Gilson still found the search worthwhile.

If Joey's kidnapper killed him, the local bridges and canals were likely places to dump a body.

If they found him later on, they could confirm he was abducted and not drowned.

This represented a painful shift in the investigation.

The Josephs had to face the fact Joey might be dead.

They might never see their seven-year-old again.

In late October, about three weeks after Joey disappeared, Chief Gilson received a letter.

It claimed Joey Joseph's body could be found in the bottom of an outhouse behind a saloon in Lackawanna.

Desperate for leads, Chief Gilson and his men followed the directions and investigated the area.

The saloon stood across the street from George Joseph's store and the house behind it where the Joseph's family lived.

The ramshackle outhouse sat behind the saloon.

It was just yards away from Joey's home.

Police conducted a search, but they didn't find any evidence of the missing boy.

Chief Gilson wrote the postcard off as a prank and kept it quiet.

With no other leads, the case went cold for a year

until fall 1912 when a flurry of distressing postcards flooded into Lackawanna.

One of the first missives urged police to check the outhouse again, quote, Joseph Josephs will be found in the bottom of water closet with three seats back of saloon near Doyle's on Ridge Road.

A drunk crazed brain done the deed, and remorse and sorrow for the parents is bringing results which will soon come to the end.

Drag the closet.

By drag the closet, The writer seemingly meant for the police to use hooks or a net to comb through the sewage water under the outhouse or a water closet.

But with the outhouse already searched, the police didn't give this tip credence, even as more postcards rolled in.

Joey's father George received one reading,

Don't search anymore for your boy.

He has been choked to death.

They have buried him where no one will find him.

This seemingly contradicted the postcard Chief Gilson received, telling him exactly where to find Joey.

Except, the initial police search didn't find Joey.

So maybe it was telling the truth.

The next postcard also confessed to murder.

Addressed to police superintendent Michael Regan, it read,

Dear Mr.

Regan, I am sick of trying to fool myself.

I am a homicidal maniac.

I killed Joey Joseph of Lackawanna, New York.

I strangled him as I did others.

Please advertise the fact.

The police opted to keep the postcards a secret from the public and did not advertise that they'd received unsigned written confessions.

It seemed like the writer was just a prankster seeking attention.

at least based on what happened next.

George Josephs received a postcard saying the writer would appear on November 13th, 1912 at the Josephs store.

Meanwhile, Chief Gilson received a postcard promising the writer would show up on November 13th, 1912 at Gilson's office.

On November 13th, the Josephs family and the police held their breath, wondering if the letter writer would come forward.

All day they waited and received no visitors.

No postcards.

No sign of Joey.

This seemingly underscored Chief Gilson's hunch that the postcards were hoaxes.

But it had been a year since Joey disappeared with no answers.

So the police reluctantly reconsidered the only lead they had.

The outhouse.

On November 16th, 1912, Chief Gilson and his men went out to reinvestigate.

As the postcard suggested, the officers officers cast the hooks into the eight feet of sewage water under the outhouse, dragging it for anything hidden below.

George Joseph stood by, watching anxiously.

Finally, one of the hooks latched onto something.

A thigh bone slowly rose to the surface.

It was the size of a child's.

Chief Gilson and George watched as a man with a meat hook brought up something else from the muck.

A calf bone, with a shoe shoe and a stocking attached.

George screamed, that's him, that's him.

He recognized the shoe as Joey's.

It didn't take long for more remains to surface, including a skull.

George realized that the two front teeth were missing, just like Joey's.

Joey Joseph's was found, which meant the confessional postcards were real.

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A year after Joey Joseph's disappeared, his remains were recovered right where a mysterious postcard writer said they would be.

The police raced to re-examine the postcards.

Could they have overlooked clues to where the killer was hiding?

With no time to waste, Chief Gilson allowed nine of the postcards to be photographed and put on the front page of the evening edition of the Buffalo News.

They hoped someone might come forward with more information.

And sure enough, someone did.

Joey's friend, Gordon.

He and his family supplied the description of Joey's last known whereabouts, walking away from the local bridge with a strange, middle-aged man.

This was a major insight into how the killer operated, befriending children with candy, then leading one away to become his next victim.

Perhaps paired with the postcards, it could lead to the killer.

So police re-examined the postcards for clues one by one.

They were postmarked from New York City, Buffalo, and Boston, but all seemed to be in the same handwriting.

Police Chief Gilson coordinated with the Boston police who asked the local post office to be on the lookout.

A few postcards came from the same mailbox, so officials put that box under surveillance.

Of course, it was possible the killer was elsewhere.

One postcard alluded to returning to western New York, saying, I wish you could send me my fare to Buffalo and I would give myself up, as I am fast going to pieces mentally and spiritually.

But of course you would notify the local police and I shall not allow that.

Try and think up some way to send it to me and I will write again Thursday.

Another continued to tease the police, writing, Can I, under the circumstances, give myself up?

I can, of course, but there are still more murders.

I have not told you.

Shall I come?

And then there was the promise to meet November 13th, but of course they never showed.

With the killer's location undetermined, they tried to zero in on their identity.

Most postcards were unsigned, but the final postcard had a signature.

It was hard to make out exactly, but they interpreted it as possibly R.

Dennison.

There wasn't an R.

Denison in the area, but the Buffalo Sunday Morning News suggested it wasn't a real name.

The scrawling cursive actually spelled out R.

Deomesserae, a Latin term translating roughly to God's reaper, or what we might call a grim reaper.

The Latin interpretation aligns with the writer's claim to be a 32nd degree Freemason, a title for a distinguished Freemason.

Freemasons traditionally use Latin in their organization, and higher degree Masons usually have an education.

To that end, another postcard references Banquo's ghost, a character from Shakespeare's play Macbeth, who haunts Macbeth showing his guilty conscience.

But perhaps most importantly, the writer also referenced having a family more than once, including a grown son.

They might have been trying to drum up sympathy because they also wrote, If you only knew the remorse in my heart on account of the murders I have committed as the result of my homicidal mania, even you and George Josephs would pity me.

However, other postcards evoked zero sympathy.

One threatened to kill again in Boston, writing, My brain is worse and all I think of is murder and I love to kill.

Shall kill some kid before I leave here Sunday.

Another recounted abusing Joey after luring him to the outhouse, then killing him to keep it a secret.

It said, he is the first kid I killed that never fought.

He just laid down and died.

But the postcards grew even more disturbing as they went on, because they didn't only talk about harming Joey.

A different postcard mentioned an attempted murder of another young boy in Lackawanna.

The postcard identified him as a little newsie, an Italian who always stands at the corner of Seneca Street.

Police quickly questioned the local newsboys, but struggled to find the one who worked on Seneca Street.

All they could hope was that the killer hadn't returned to harm him, which was possible.

A postcard from November 11th, 1912 read, Wednesday night, December 10th, 1902, I enticed Michael Kruk, a newsboy at 86th Street in Central Park West, New York City, into the park opposite the entrance to the Arsenal police station, and I abused him and later strangled him and just escaped the police officer who found him.

The postcards told the truth about Joey Josephs.

Did they also tell the truth about this boy, Michael Kruck?

This postcard continued, three times I have taken life.

And another postcard read, the demon whiskey will then have one more victim.

making four in all.

But then a third postcard claimed, I am also the murderer of 12 more kids.

If the postcards were even somewhat truthful, police were chasing a serial killer, and there were anywhere from 1 to 11 more victims.

The natural next step was to investigate Michael Crux's murder, but before they could properly start, officers got another lead.

Two days after the postcards covered the front page of the Buffalo News, a man named John Hoskin contacted Superintendent Regan.

Hoskin recognized the handwriting in the postcards.

It was someone he used to work with at Buffalo's chemical works plant.

Hoskin was the chief millwright, and back in September 1911, he'd hired the postcard writer.

His name was J.

Frank Hickey.

Hoskin described Hickey as mid-40s, wearing glasses, both quiet and overqualified, but he hired him anyway.

Four days later, Hickey quit, eventually working at another factory in Buffalo, but he promised to write to Hoskin.

Four months later, Hoskin received a letter.

He still had it when he saw the postcards on the front page of the Buffalo News, so he brought it to Superintendent Regan.

Regan consulted with Chief Gilson, and they submitted the letter and the postcards to a handwriting expert.

They were a perfect match.

Talking to Hoskin and others, police learned everything they could about J.

Frank Hickey.

Like Joey Josephs, he was the son of immigrants.

His parents came from Ireland and settled in Massachusetts.

As an adult, Hickey meandered around the Northeast.

He worked odd jobs and lived in boarding houses, never staying in one place for too long.

That lined up with the different origins for the postcards.

At the same time Joey Josephs disappeared, Hickey was working at a plant in Buffalo.

The plant's timekeeper confirmed that Hickey hadn't come to work that day.

At one point, Hickey was a Freemason, just like the letter writer.

The organization expelled him when they caught him stealing from his employer, another Freemason.

The theft record included 10 gallons of alcohol.

Apparently, Hickey had a drinking problem, perhaps one strong enough that he blamed the demon whiskey for his behavior, just like the postcard writer.

Hickey occasionally checked himself into an alcohol rehabilitation center called the Keswick Colony in Whiting, New Jersey.

That's where he'd mailed his letter to John Hoskin from.

But here's the most shocking connection.

Remember Michael Kruok, the other boy the letters admitted to killing?

Back in 1902, J.

Frank Hickey was drinking in a bar and admitted to killing Cruok.

Hickey was promptly arrested.

However, once he sobered up, he recanted.

And with no other evidence, the authorities were forced to release him.

At that point, Chief Gilson and Superintendent Regan were fairly certain of what Hickey looked like, that he was staying at the Keswick colony, and that he was the killer behind the postcards.

They just had to find him.

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Within a day of talking to John Hoskin, Buffalo Police Superintendent Superintendent Reagan sent out an arrest order for their main suspect in the murder of Joey Joseph's, J.

Frank Hickey.

Authorities believed Hickey was staying at Kazzak Colony, an alcohol rehabilitation center in New Jersey.

So Superintendent Reagan sent a telegram to the Ocean County, New Jersey Sheriff with the requisite information.

Superintendent Reagan wrote that Hickey was about 45 years old, 5'6 and 150 pounds, with sandy hair and a short light mustache.

It didn't take long for the sheriff to find Hickey.

He was at Keswick Colony.

On November 19th, only three days after the postcards were published in the newspaper, J.

Frank Hickey was in jail in Toms River, New Jersey.

For his part, Hickey insisted his arrest was an outrage, and he'd prove his innocence.

Chief Gilson and Erie County District Attorney Wesley Dudley headed to New Jersey and took custody of Hickey.

They They whisked him away to New York City.

There, New York City detectives questioned Hickey about the decade-old murder of 12-year-old Michael Kruck, which both the postcard writer and Hickey had previously confessed to.

But now, Hickey was quiet.

When pressed, all Hickey would say was, I am not guilty of this crime.

The following day, Chief Gilson and D.A.

Dudley took Hickey on a train to Buffalo.

In the train car, Hickey adamantly adamantly denied any involvement in any murders.

Eventually, District Attorney Dudley sent Chief Gilson to a smoking car and confronted Hickey.

Dudley said, You had better tell me your story, Hickey.

We are going to convict you, you can see that.

Don't you think it would be far better for you to make a clean breast of the whole affair?

Hickey considered Dudley's words as the train rumpled down the tracks.

After a while, he finally spoke up.

Hickey started by blaming his crimes on his drinking problem.

When he was drunk, he got a desire to kill young boys.

Hickey told Dudley his urges were uncontrollable and when he was in the midst of a drinking episode, he didn't know right from wrong.

That's what happened October 12th, 1911.

Hickey skipped work and went to the bar.

Walking home later, he noticed Joey Josephs and Gordon playing on a sidewalk.

That's when Hickey decided to target the boy.

Hickey approached Joey and Gordon and offered to buy them candy at a nearby store.

The boys agreed.

Hickey paid for the candy and they walked back out to the street.

After the three walked back to the bridge where the boys liked to play, Hickey took Joey by the hand and told Gordon to wait there.

Hickey led the boy across the bridge and through a vacant lot to the outhouse behind the saloon.

He strangled him, then pushed his body down into the water pit.

Then, Hickey went back to the bar and had a few more drinks.

Soon after Joey's murder, he quit his job and went to Boston.

In Boston, Hickey read about Joey's disappearance in the newspapers.

He learned the boy's name and about his grief-stricken parents.

Hickey claimed he felt guilty and wanted Joey's parents to find the body.

So three weeks after the murder, he sent the initial postcard to Chief Gilson.

Hickey added that there were many times he thought about turning himself in.

He felt terrible for George and Myra Josephs, but he would ultimately get drunk and decide surrendering was a bad idea.

He told Dudley, You never would have caught me if I had not sent those cards.

Then Hickey told D.A.

Dudley that, despite his continuous denial yesterday, he'd murdered newsboy Michael Kruck in 1902.

Hickey strangled Kruck in Central Park and left his body lying in a heap on the ground, surrounded by the day's newspapers.

And years later, he'd written the postcard describing Crux's murder.

Later, D.A.

Dudley told reporters, the details of Hickey's last two crimes are too revolting to make public.

Hickey apparently is a man with a personality.

He is intelligent.

He is now overcome with remorse and says again and again he can't comprehend what possessed him to commit the crimes.

He asserts that he became a maniac only when filled with whiskey.

When the train finally pulled into Buffalo, Hickey was taken to jail.

But his confession wasn't over.

About a week later, on the morning of November 30th, Hickey gave a detailed jailhouse confession to a group of reporters.

He shocked them by saying his first murder was all the way back in 1883.

Hickey was 17 and working at a drugstore in Lowell, Massachusetts.

His boss pointed out a customer he believed had a drinking problem, Edward Morey.

The boss didn't want Maury coming around anymore.

In response, Hickey dosed Maury's whiskey with laudanum, a powerful medication containing opium and alcohol.

Hickey claimed he thought it would just make the man sick and discourage him from returning to the drugstore to buy more whiskey.

Whether or not that was true, Hickey got the dosage wrong.

Maury sipped his whiskey before leaving the drugstore, and Hickey watched the man die right in front of him.

However, investigators didn't suspect any foul play.

Edward Morey's death was attributed to apoplexy.

Speaking to reporters in 1912, Hickey said the look on the dying man's face haunted him.

Eventually, it caused him to drink and commit crimes.

He said the first murder, quote, has always seemed more horrible to me than any of the other of my crimes.

In that same sitting, Hickey revealed he'd been married and had a son, just like the postcards mentioned.

However, the postcards didn't mention the full truth, that Hickey's excessive drinking caused his wife to leave him, taking their child with her.

Hickey went on to detail his attempted murders.

He said, I do not know what this thing is that comes over me.

This obsession strikes me when I am sober, and I take to drink to get away from it.

Then I attempt to kill some boy.

When he was 22, he was living in Boston.

He knew many of the local newsboys, and one day, two boys asked if he'd help them find a place to sleep for the night.

Hickey agreed to let the boys sleep in his room.

After the boys fell asleep, he got drunk, and an urge to kill consumed him.

So Hickey tore the gas fixtures from the walls and laid down, waiting for a gas leak to kill all three of them.

Later that night, police officers broke down Hickey's door, saving him and the two newsboys.

Someone had reported the gas leak.

Hickey's next murder attempt was a year later.

He was on the street in Quincy, Massachusetts, when a young boy asked for money to rent a bed for the night.

Instead, Hickey offered for the boy to stay in his room.

Hickey claimed the boy had been tramping around the country and knew how to drink whiskey, so Hickey got him drunk.

When the boy fell asleep, Hickey decided he'd kill him and throw his body in a nearby river.

Hickey laid down to sleep first, but when he woke up, the youngster was gone.

Hickey said, I do not know why, but it has always been one of the greatest disappointments of my life that I did not get to kill him.

The final incident Hickey recounted that day took place in August 1912 in Lawrence, Massachusetts.

Hickey was drunk and walking through town when a boy asked him for a match.

He said, While talking to that boy, that same devilish feeling came in my mind to kill him, and I planned to take him to some woods.

Hickey coaxed the boy towards the woods with the promise of a watch.

The two walked across a lumberyard, and when they approached a railroad crossing, Hickey said he couldn't control his compulsion.

Standing by the railroad tracks, Hickey attacked the boy.

A railroad worker witnessed Hickey attempting to strangle the boy and intervened, saving the boy's life.

Under arrest, Hickey argued that the boy had tried to steal his watch and he'd lost his temper trying to get the watch back.

Police fined Hickey $5 for the assault and battery and released him after one night in jail.

Two months later, Hickey murdered Joey Josephs.

And after all the murders and attempted murders he'd admitted to, Joey's was the crime he'd stand trial for.

Justice moved swiftly in 1912, and less than three weeks after his arrest, J.

Frank Hickey was in court.

The jurors heard testimony from psychiatrists, handwriting experts, Joey's father, and even Joey's friend Gordon, who positively identified Hickey as Joey's kidnapper.

When it came time for deliberations, two of the 12 jurors refused to find Hickey guilty of first-degree murder because they believed he was insane.

So the jury compromised and settled on a second-degree murder verdict.

This spared Hickey from the death penalty.

Instead, the judge sentenced him to 20 years to life in prison.

After hearing the verdict, Hickey said, I should have gotten the chair.

I know that I deserve it, and I was very much surprised that they didn't find me guilty of murder first degree.

Then it wouldn't have been but a little time, and everything would have been over.

Now I will have this thing on my mind all the rest of my life.

The rest of his life lasted almost a decade, all spent in prison.

In May 1922, 56-year-old J.

Frank Hickey died.

The postcard killer was gone, but he left unanswered questions.

Remember, Hickey claimed different numbers of victims in different postcards.

Three, four,

twelve.

But in his confessions, he only described three murders.

Joey Josephs, Michael Kruck, and Edward Morey.

Was Hickey responsible for nine additional murders, or did he exaggerate to draw more attention to his postcards?

There's one final clue.

Between 1910 and 1912, Hickey made four separate visits to the Keswick colony.

In his confession, he told Chief Gilson he'd checked himself into the center when his drinking was out of control and he felt a desire to kill.

One of those trips was two months after he murdered Joey Josephs.

Was it a reaction to his crime?

And if so, did those other trips come after killing?

Four trips to the Keswick colony.

Four victims noted in one of the postcards.

It could be a coincidence.

In over a hundred years, no other murders were attributed to J.

Frank Hickey.

But if there's one thing to learn from this story, it's that the postcards mostly told the truth.

Thank you for listening to Serial Killers, a Spotify podcast.

We'll be back Monday with another episode.

Be sure to check us out on Instagram at Serial Killers Podcast, and we'd love to hear from you.

So, if you're listening on the Spotify app, swipe up and give us your thoughts.

For more information on J.

Frank Hickey, among the many sources we used, we found the archives of the Buffalo, New York newspapers extremely helpful to our research.

Stay safe out there.

This episode was written and researched by Matt Gilligan, edited by Maggie Admire, fact-checked by Laurie Siegel, and sound designed by Alex Button.

I'm your host, Janice Morgan.