The Axeman of New Orleans
“Who’ll be next?” is the question being asked by detectives and Italians of New Orleans. – The Times-Picayune
The Crescent City, renowned for its vibrant culture, soulful music, and distinctive cuisine, holds a dark secret within its storied past. From May 1918 to October 1919, New Orleans, Louisiana, was gripped by terror, paralyzed by the specter of a serial killer known only as the "Axeman." This elusive figure, armed with an ax and a chilling disregard for human life, stalked the city’s shadows, leaving a trail of blood and unanswered questions in his wake. The Axeman of New Orleans remains one of the most chilling unsolved mysteries in American history, a testament to the fear and uncertainty that can grip a community when faced with an unknown predator.
The first documented victims of the Axeman of New Orleans were Joseph Maggio, an Italian grocer, and his wife, Catherine. On the night of May 23, 1918, as the couple slept in their apartment above their grocery store, a brutal attack shattered the tranquility. The killer, gaining entry by unknown means, used a straight razor to slash the couple’s throats before turning to an ax to brutally bash in their heads. The scene discovered by investigators was gruesome. Bloody clothing, seemingly belonging to the murderer, was found nearby, suggesting a hasty change of attire before fleeing. Adding to the enigma, robbery was ruled out as a motive, as money and valuables remained untouched. A cryptic message, scrawled in chalk near the Maggio’s residence, read: "Mrs. Joseph Maggio will sit up tonight. Just write Mrs. Toney." This bizarre message, along with the lack of a clear motive, deepened the mystery and fueled the growing sense of unease within the city.
Just over a month later, on June 27, 1918, another couple fell victim to a similar attack. Louis Besumer, also a grocer, and his mistress, Harriet Lowe, were discovered in their living quarters at the back of Besumer’s store, lying in a pool of blood. Besumer had been struck above his right temple with an ax, while Lowe suffered a similar blow to her left ear. Both were critically injured but alive. As with the Maggio case, investigations commenced, and suspects were questioned, but all were eventually released due to insufficient evidence. Adding a layer of social complexity to the crime, the fact that Lowe was Besumer’s mistress sparked gossip and scandal within the community, overshadowing the brutality of the attack itself for some. After the attack, one side of Lowe’s face was partially paralyzed, and on August 5th, she had surgery performed in an effort to correct it. Two days later, she died, but before she passed, she told authorities that she suspected it was Louis Besumer who had attacked her. Besumer was then charged with murder and served nine months in prison before being acquitted on May 1, 1919, after a ten-minute jury deliberation.
The chilling pattern continued on August 5th with an attack on Mrs. Edward Schneider, a pregnant woman eight months along. As the 28-year-old lay in bed, she was awakened by a dark figure standing over her. The assailant repeatedly struck her in the face. Her husband discovered her shortly after midnight, returning from work to a scene of horror. Her scalp had been cut open, and her face was covered in blood. Miraculously, she survived the attack and gave birth to a healthy baby girl two days later. As before, a suspect was apprehended but released due to a lack of concrete evidence. By this point, investigators publicly acknowledged the possibility that these attacks were connected to the previous incidents involving Besumer and Maggio, suggesting the presence of a serial assailant terrorizing the city.
The sense of dread intensified just five days later, on August 10th, when yet another grocer, Joseph Ramano, was attacked. Ramano lived with his two nieces, who were awakened by a commotion in his room. They rushed to his aid, finding him with a severe head wound and witnessing the assailant fleeing. Despite his injuries, Ramano was able to walk to the ambulance but died two days later due to severe head trauma. The nieces provided a brief description of the killer: a dark-skinned, heavy-set man wearing a dark suit and slouch hat. The similarities to the previous crimes were striking: the ransacked scenes, the use of the victims’ own axes, the chiseled entry points, and the targeting of Italian grocers. The Axeman of New Orleans was weaving a tapestry of terror, and the city was on edge.
These repeated attacks instilled widespread fear, with citizens flooding the police with reports of suspicious individuals lurking in neighborhoods, abandoned axes and chisels found in backyards, and doors and windows showing signs of tampering. People armed themselves with shotguns and took turns guarding their homes at night. Rumors spread like wildfire, with some claiming the Axeman was a woman in disguise or that he possessed superhuman agility, leaping over fences with ease. The city was on the brink of panic, consumed by fear and suspicion. The sudden cessation of killings and assaults was as abrupt and unexpected as their commencement. The terror slowly receded, and neighborhoods returned to a semblance of normalcy, but the memory of the Axeman of New Orleans lingered.
However, the uneasy peace was shattered on March 10, 1919, when the Axeman struck again. Charles Cortimiglia, an immigrant grocer, lived with his wife, Rosie, and two-year-old daughter, Mary, in Gretna, a town across the Mississippi River from New Orleans. In the early morning hours, screams emanating from the Cortimiglia residence alerted a neighboring grocer, Lorlando Jordano, who rushed to investigate. He discovered a scene of unimaginable violence: all three members of the Cortimiglia family had been attacked.
Rosie recounted that she awoke to find her husband struggling with a large man wielding an axe. As Charles fell to the floor, the assailant turned on her, swinging the ax down on both her and her daughter, despite her pleas for mercy. When Jordano arrived, Charles lay in a pool of blood, and Rosie stood in the doorway, clutching her deceased daughter, with a severe head wound. The couple was rushed to the hospital, where they were treated for skull fractures. Charles was released two days later, while Rosie remained under medical care.
Upon regaining consciousness, Rosie implicated Lorlando Jordano and his 18-year-old son, Frank, in the attack. Despite Lorlando’s advanced age and frail health, and Frank’s size making it impossible for him to fit through the chiseled panel in the back door, both were arrested. Charles Cortimiglia denied his wife’s accusations, but the Jordanos were charged with the murders and subsequently found guilty. Frank was sentenced to hang, and his father received a life sentence. After the trial, Charles divorced Rosie. About a year later, Rosie recanted her testimony, claiming she had falsely accused the Jordanos out of jealousy and spite. As her testimony was the sole evidence against them, they were released from prison shortly thereafter.
The Cortimiglia murders plunged New Orleans back into a state of terror. People armed themselves, and the police declared that all the crimes were the work of a single, "bloodthirsty maniac, filled with a passion for human slaughter." The Axeman of New Orleans had returned, and the city’s collective nightmare had been reignited.
Then, a new and bizarre twist emerged. On March 14, 1919, The Times-Picayune newspaper received a taunting letter, purportedly from the Axeman himself, promising further attacks. The letter, postmarked from Hell, was a chilling manifesto of self-proclaimed demonic intent:
Hell, March 13, 1919
Esteemed Mortal:
They have never caught me, and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether surrounding your earth. I am not a human being but a spirit and a demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman.
When I see fit, I shall come and claim other victims. I alone know whom they shall be. I shall leave no clue except my bloody axe, besmeared with 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 they have conducted their investigations in the past. In fact, they have been so utterly stupid as to not only amuse me but His Satanic Majesty, Francis Josef, etc. But tell them to beware. Let them not try to discover what I am, for it was better that they were never born than to incur the wrath of the Axeman. I don’t think there is any need for such a warning, for I feel sure the 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, 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 (earthly time) on next Tuesday night [March 19, 1919}, I am going to pass over New Orleans. In my infinite mercy, I am going to make a little proposition to you 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 home 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 you people. One thing is certain and that is that some of your people who do not jazz it on Tuesday night (if there be any) will get the axe.
Well, as I am cold and crave the warmth of my native Tartarus, and it is about time I leave your earthly home, 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 realm of fancy.
The Axeman
The letter’s most remarkable element was the Axeman’s declaration of his love for jazz music and his promise to spare any household where a jazz band was playing on the night of March 19th. In response, New Orleans erupted in a city-wide jazz celebration. Dance halls overflowed, and amateur and professional bands played in homes across the city. Miraculously, no one was killed that night. The power of music, or perhaps the fear it inspired, had seemingly deterred the Axeman.
The silence that followed was unsettling. People remained fearful, waiting for the Axeman to break his word. On August 10, 1919, another grocer, Steve Boca, was attacked in his bedroom. Boca awoke to find a dark figure looming over him and suffered a blow from an ax. He survived the attack but was unable to recall the details. As with the previous attacks, nothing was stolen, and a panel on the back door had been chiseled away.
On September 2, a local druggist named William Carson narrowly escaped the Axeman when he fired several shots at an intruder who had broken into his home. The fleeing killer left behind a broken door and an ax. The Axeman of New Orleans was still at large.
The following day, September 3, 1919, a young girl named Sarah Laumann was attacked with an ax while she slept in her locked and shuttered home. Neighbors discovered her unconscious on her bed, suffering from a severe head injury and missing several teeth. Though she suffered a brain concussion, she recovered. A bloody ax was found on the front lawn.
New Orleans was once again gripped by hysteria. However, the Axeman remained silent for nearly two months. The final known attack occurred on October 27, 1919, when grocer Mike Pepitone was murdered. His wife heard a noise and arrived at the bedroom door just as a large, ax-wielding man was fleeing the scene. Pepitone had been struck in the head and was covered in blood. His murder left behind a widow and six children. Mrs. Pepitone was unable to provide any description of the killer. The usual clues were present: a ransacked room and a chiseled entry point.
Despite continued investigations, the authorities were unable to solve the case. Pepitone’s murder was the last known act of the Axeman of New Orleans. He vanished without a trace, leaving behind a legacy of fear and unanswered questions that continue to haunt the city to this day. The identity of the Axeman, his motives, and his ultimate fate remain shrouded in mystery, solidifying his place as one of the most enigmatic and terrifying figures in American true crime history.