(A look at some of the stories that made the news ‘back-in-the-day’ with CLIFFORD STANLEY)
Guiana’s reluctant hangman
SITTING in an old armchair at his home at Vreed-en-Hoop across the Demerara River,  Thomas Fisher, Irishman by birth and naturalized Guianese, pulled away at his Lighthouse cigarette as he slowly recalled the days leading up to his appointment as ‘hangman’ of BG.
But first, he spoke about becoming a stowaway.
“It was real fun,” he said with a broad smile, “entering a ship as an illegal passenger, then to disembark in Colombia as a well-dressed sailor.
“But I had to leave as a sailor, or my friend would have been disciplined by the ship’s captain. In Colombia, my friend left me at place called a ‘Sailor’s Home’.
“I spent about a week at the ‘Sailor’s Home’ enjoying the privileges of sailors who go there… I ate, drank, slept free of charge, but my happy living was short-lived. To my embarrassment, sailors kept asking me questions that I could not answer: How long had I been a sailor? What about my papers? How did I become a sailor?
“Finally, they discovered that I was not really a sailor. I was pushed through the doors and from then on I had to walk the streets of a country I knew nothing about.
“It was while walking through the streets of Bogotá that I met the man that took me to his home and taught me how to hang people. This man befriended me and when I went to his home, I found that this man had in his home three wooden dolls which he used as victims for ‘mock hangings’.
“This man also had a strong piece of rope in a section of his home called the ‘Execution Room’. So I learned how to break people’s neck by hanging,  even though at the time I had no intention of becoming an executioner.
“In 1938, however, life in Colombia was tough, and I eventually had to appeal to a Catholic priest to make arrangements for me to return home to BG. I came back home and joined the BG Police Force as a cartman. It was around this time that I received a letter dated December 13, 1938 asking me to work as a executioner of condemned prisoners in BG.
“At the time I was earning $7 per week at the Police canteen. Hanging condemned prisoners meant a flat pay of $25 per month and $50 for every person I executed. I did not stop to think whether it was a nice job; I accepted right away.
“From then and for twenty-three years, I have had the unhappy privilege of watching more men die than most other people.
“I hanged 250 people; 249 men and one woman. All of them, except one, went to the gallows showing signs of bitterness and hate. The exception was Joseph A; he smiled and said goodbye to the Prison Superintendent, the priest, and to me. Then I covered his head, put the noose around his neck and sprang the trapdoor.
“Then there were others such as John R, who violently resisted for several minutes, yelling and screaming before we could subdue them  and hang them. The pay was good, but I was under a lot of pressure to quit the job.
“People would come up to me and say: ‘That  is the hangman; Shame, Fisher, shame!’ One day I was waiting to catch the boat to go across to my home at Vreed-en-Hoop when a man came to me and pushed me saying: ‘Fisher, you nasty hangman!’ When my wife goes shopping, they will say: ‘Look, look, there is the hangman’s wife!’ They look upon me as a bad man, but I did my job conscientiously.
“Only once did I flinch from doing my job; that was when I was called upon to hang my best friend. What can be more torturous than for a man to hang his best friend? My best friend was the third person I was called upon to hang, even before I was officially appointed executioner. My friend had been convicted of murdering his wife. I begged the authorities to get another hangman, but they refused.
“Fortunately, I was allowed to put flowers in the coffin of my pal. On my return home, I told my wife: ‘Helen, I just hanged my very dear friend.’ Soon after, I became very ill and never left home for a week.
“I began to feel badly about my job.  I am human; I began to feel that I became hangman because everyone in BG had refused to take the job. Because of my job, life became hell for me.
“After twenty-three years as hangman, I tendered my resignation. They refused to let me go for a year, and in the meantime insisted that I keep hanging people. And I did.
“But recently, the Prison Department accepted my resignation, and that is the end of my career and the beginning of a new life. My desire is to find happiness… the kind of happiness I knew when I was a cart-man, or a cash boy;  the kind of happiness I knew before I became a hangman.
“Now I am old and want to live like any other citizen…undisturbed and peaceful. Now I feel I can hold my head high and look the world in the face: I am the hangman no more.”
(Guiana Graphic: June 11, 1961)

Panic as West Coast train is derailed
PASSENGERS travelling on the West Demerara Railway on Wednesday morning last from Vreed-en-Hoop to Parika panicked when the train derailed near Anna Catherina.
One eyewitness, John Mc Almont of Parika, said he thought the entire train would have “jumped off the line.”
It was reported that the accident occurred when the train struck a donkey. No damage was done to the train or passengers, but the donkey died on the spot.
Meanwhile, passengers were delayed for about two hours.
(Guiana Graphic: June 9, 1961)

(Clifford Stanley can be reached to discuss any of the foregoing articles at cliffantony@gmail.com or by telephone: 657-2043)