Edmund Lester Pearson was an American librarian and author. He was a writer of the "true crime" literary genre. He is best known for his account of the notorious Lizzie Borden murder case.
Although the Scot William Roughead remains the undisputed dean of True Crime, the American Edmund Pearson has a firm hold on second place. Although he lacks the orotund style, sharp irony and moral seriousness of the master, he makes up for it with his clarity, his narrative facility, and his eye for illustrative detail.
Two-thirds of this volume—which is more than three hundred pages in length—consists of two pieces: 1) the now classic version of the Lizzie Borden murders (“The Borden Case”) and 2) the absorbing account of a bloody double murder at sea (“Mate Bram!”) with oddities and ironies—particularly the coda, chronicling the murderer's subsequent career—that would have appealed to Joseph Conrad.
The rest of the book consists of four shorter accounts of individual murders and two essays. Each of the murders is handled differently: “The Twenty-third Street Murder” is 1870's New York City nostalgia, “The Hunting Knife” is an example of a wrong-headed appeal for clemency, “Uncle Amos Dreams a Dream “ is a surprising miscarriage of justice set in a bucolic atmosphere, and “Malloy the Mighty” is a Runyonesque tale of an (almost) un-killable Irishman. Of the two essays, one is a defense of the reliability of circumstantial evidence (using the Lindbergh kidnapping as an example), and the second is an attempted refutation of the common assertion that society often executes the innocent.
I recommend this book to all fans of True Crime. Like Roughead—and yes, like Capote, and Mailer, and a few others—Pearson demonstrates that True Crime writing can be writing well worth returning to, long after the blood has dried, longer after the echoes of the judge's gavel have disappeared.
Pearson was a wonderful writer--witty, sardonic, and eloquent, which, like his Scottish colleague William Roughead, lifts his writings above a mere "true crime" genre. His essays could almost be called social history.
My one complaint with Pearson's books is that he tended to automatically assume everyone charged with the crime was guilty, and this assumption sometimes led to stubbornly narrow-minded conclusions. He was usually right about the guilty parties, but in more complex and enigmatic cases, this was a serious drawback. Nevertheless, I'd recommend his books to anyone with a taste for genteel homicide.
The author, a librarian, has written one of the most interesting accounts of the Lizzie Borden murder case that I've ever read. Also included here are 5 other true crimes from the 19th and early 20th centuries, as well as two very interesting essays, one on the reliability of circumstantial evidence in arriving at a conviction, and one on whether innocent people are ever executed. I wish this guy had written more true crime books. He writes well. Recommended.
The version I read was a scan of the 1924 edition which ends with the Uncle Amos tale. The book is mostly interesting for the glimpse of trials of the time. "Mate Bram" has someone charged with murder basically because that guy acted weirder than anyone else on the boat where the crime was committed. Pearson complains in "The Hunting Knife" about people writing petitions to free the man convicted of murder, but the evidence of guilt (at least as presented here) didn't seem to meet the reasonable doubt standard. "Uncle Amos has a Dream" was insane. Two men were convicted of murder on the basis of Amos' dreams and the discovery of some toenails where the body was supposedly buried. I'm not an expert, but nails seem like an odd body part to be the only identifiable remains.
Published 1924 - The Murder of Dr Burdell. Edmund Lester Pearson was an American librarian and author. He was a writer of the "true crime" literary genre. He is best known for his account of the notorious Lizzie Borden murder case. I wasn't fussed on his style as a teen.
Conversational, dryly-humored studies of famous American murder cases. Pearson is less interested in the mystery behind these famous cases--in all he fixes the guilt on a specific person--than on the effect that public reaction had on how the cases were viewed and handled. His premise with many of the cases is that the police and legal wranglers of each case did their very best, but were thwarted by an unfounded prejudice against circumstantial evidence and the public's baseless sympathy with the accused. He harps on these issues a bit too much, but the discussions of the Borden case and others are done with a great deal of attention to procedural and legal detail that's enthralling, if you like that sort of thing. I tend to like a little mystery too, however.