The Ballad of Benjamin Deane
The Historical Murder
“The Ballad of Benjamin Dean” is a great example of the form of song known as a “confessional ballad.” It was written by a poet and log driver named Joseph W. Scott in Blackville, New Brunswick, Canada shortly after the events took place. The events describe a murder in which a man, Benjamin F. Deane, shot and killed his wife, Mary “Lizzie” Deane, in Berlin, New Hampshire; Joe Scott was in the area at the time of the murder. The song became a local hit back in the day, and it was often sung in logging camps before the radio became popular.
Mr. Benjamin F. Deane was born in St. John, New Brunswick on May 6, 1854 to John and Rebecca (Bryant) Deane. His parents moved to Portland, Maine within a year of his birth. Mr. Deane came to Berlin, or Berlin Falls as it was known then, around 1880. He was an honored resident, owning a restaurant and a fruit and candy store on Goebel Street. He was indicted several times in the 1890s for selling liquor and was always behind on his bills and never had a large fortune.
In 1896, Mr. Deane began keeping a boardinghouse on Main Street that contained a bar and often was the place for illegal activities, such as
prostitution. Thus, Deane became a minor bootlegger of sorts and was very popular with the rowdy woodsmen and mill workers, which Berlin was full of at that time.
Benjamin eventually married Lizzie, the daughter of Joseph Blodgett, but their marriage was full of financial and marital difficulties. It is rumored
that with all these problems, Lizzie looked for love through extramarital affairs. On Wednesday May 4, 1898 at 3:45 P.M., shot and killed his wife in the building now occupied by Supreme Pizza on Main Street.
The following day at 9 A.M. at the original City Hall on Mechanic Street, a large crowd gathered to watch the court hearing. There were three
people sworn in as witnesses: Mrs. Maggie Shaver, Mr. John Garland, and Dr. Cobb. Mrs. Shaver, who lived next door to the Deanes, told the court how Mrs. Deane came over to stay with her became her and Ben had been fighting. Mrs. Deane was sitting in a chair, Jack Garland was sitting in a lounge and she was standing in the kitchen, leading to the dining room with a loaf of bread in her hands. Eventually Ben came over and asked Mrs. Deane if she was coming home. She said to him, “No Ben, never.” Mr. Deane walked up to his wife, pulled out a revolver and shot and killed her. Mr. Garland then jumped up and wrestled him down to the floor and took the revolver and held Deane at gun point until officers Morin and Christianson arrived.
John Garland described how he lived in Berlin for the past four years and stated that he was a woodsman that boarded with the Deanes, when not
working in the woods. He pretty much said the same thing as Mrs. Shaver did, but added that when Mr. Deane pulled the gun out, he (Garland) jumped up and threw an arm around Deane’s neck. Just as Garland did this, Deane shot his wife. Garland twisted the gun out of Ben’s hands. “I let him up and held him at bay with his revolver” Garland said. John told him not to move and Deane replied, “I did all that I wanted.” Deane went on to blame Mrs. Shaver for the whole tragedy.
Dr. Cobb described how he received a message by telephone that Mrs. Deane had been shot and she appeared dead. He went to the home of Mrs. Shaver and examined Mrs. Deane by removing the left side of her clothing, with the assistance of Mrs. Shaver. He concluded that the bullet had entered the left side just under her shoulder. The bullet wound seemed to describe the immediate cause of Mrs. Deane’s death.
Judge Rich held Ben without bail. Mr. Deane was forty years of age and his wife was thirty-five. They had five children together, including a four-year-old daughter who witnessed the murder. The murder of Mrs. Deane was the second murder in only three weeks, oddly enough, right down the street from Mrs. Deane’s murder. The first murder took place in the Androscoggin House, which stood just where the old ticket booth of the Albert Theater is today. In this murder, Telesphore Gagnon died at the hands of John Picot. The Temperance League was blaming the first murder on all
the free flowing alcohol and bars that were in town. They could not though, connect the Deane murder in any way to intoxicants.
Benjamin F. Deane was a resident of Berlin for many years previous to his wife’s murder. Mr. Deane was instrumental in organizing the early hose companies of the Berlin Fire Department. He was sentenced to 25 years in state prison. Eight years after the murder (1907), Governor Floyd pardoned Mr. Deane and was released immediately. He was pardoned because his health had become impaired by his confinement in prison. He was also released because of good behavior.
Mr. Ben Deane moved back to Berlin, remarried, and died in Berlin on June 20, 1924 at his home at 737 Main Street. He died of Atherosclerosis. The song, Ballad of Benjamin Deane, became less and less sung as the radio became popular. The song came close to becoming lost forever, only being saved by the works of Bert Thorne and Sandy Lves. The original copy of the song is now housed in the archives of the University of Maine.
Mr. Benjamin F. Deane was born in St. John, New Brunswick on May 6, 1854 to John and Rebecca (Bryant) Deane. His parents moved to Portland, Maine within a year of his birth. Mr. Deane came to Berlin, or Berlin Falls as it was known then, around 1880. He was an honored resident, owning a restaurant and a fruit and candy store on Goebel Street. He was indicted several times in the 1890s for selling liquor and was always behind on his bills and never had a large fortune.
In 1896, Mr. Deane began keeping a boardinghouse on Main Street that contained a bar and often was the place for illegal activities, such as
prostitution. Thus, Deane became a minor bootlegger of sorts and was very popular with the rowdy woodsmen and mill workers, which Berlin was full of at that time.
Benjamin eventually married Lizzie, the daughter of Joseph Blodgett, but their marriage was full of financial and marital difficulties. It is rumored
that with all these problems, Lizzie looked for love through extramarital affairs. On Wednesday May 4, 1898 at 3:45 P.M., shot and killed his wife in the building now occupied by Supreme Pizza on Main Street.
The following day at 9 A.M. at the original City Hall on Mechanic Street, a large crowd gathered to watch the court hearing. There were three
people sworn in as witnesses: Mrs. Maggie Shaver, Mr. John Garland, and Dr. Cobb. Mrs. Shaver, who lived next door to the Deanes, told the court how Mrs. Deane came over to stay with her became her and Ben had been fighting. Mrs. Deane was sitting in a chair, Jack Garland was sitting in a lounge and she was standing in the kitchen, leading to the dining room with a loaf of bread in her hands. Eventually Ben came over and asked Mrs. Deane if she was coming home. She said to him, “No Ben, never.” Mr. Deane walked up to his wife, pulled out a revolver and shot and killed her. Mr. Garland then jumped up and wrestled him down to the floor and took the revolver and held Deane at gun point until officers Morin and Christianson arrived.
John Garland described how he lived in Berlin for the past four years and stated that he was a woodsman that boarded with the Deanes, when not
working in the woods. He pretty much said the same thing as Mrs. Shaver did, but added that when Mr. Deane pulled the gun out, he (Garland) jumped up and threw an arm around Deane’s neck. Just as Garland did this, Deane shot his wife. Garland twisted the gun out of Ben’s hands. “I let him up and held him at bay with his revolver” Garland said. John told him not to move and Deane replied, “I did all that I wanted.” Deane went on to blame Mrs. Shaver for the whole tragedy.
Dr. Cobb described how he received a message by telephone that Mrs. Deane had been shot and she appeared dead. He went to the home of Mrs. Shaver and examined Mrs. Deane by removing the left side of her clothing, with the assistance of Mrs. Shaver. He concluded that the bullet had entered the left side just under her shoulder. The bullet wound seemed to describe the immediate cause of Mrs. Deane’s death.
Judge Rich held Ben without bail. Mr. Deane was forty years of age and his wife was thirty-five. They had five children together, including a four-year-old daughter who witnessed the murder. The murder of Mrs. Deane was the second murder in only three weeks, oddly enough, right down the street from Mrs. Deane’s murder. The first murder took place in the Androscoggin House, which stood just where the old ticket booth of the Albert Theater is today. In this murder, Telesphore Gagnon died at the hands of John Picot. The Temperance League was blaming the first murder on all
the free flowing alcohol and bars that were in town. They could not though, connect the Deane murder in any way to intoxicants.
Benjamin F. Deane was a resident of Berlin for many years previous to his wife’s murder. Mr. Deane was instrumental in organizing the early hose companies of the Berlin Fire Department. He was sentenced to 25 years in state prison. Eight years after the murder (1907), Governor Floyd pardoned Mr. Deane and was released immediately. He was pardoned because his health had become impaired by his confinement in prison. He was also released because of good behavior.
Mr. Ben Deane moved back to Berlin, remarried, and died in Berlin on June 20, 1924 at his home at 737 Main Street. He died of Atherosclerosis. The song, Ballad of Benjamin Deane, became less and less sung as the radio became popular. The song came close to becoming lost forever, only being saved by the works of Bert Thorne and Sandy Lves. The original copy of the song is now housed in the archives of the University of Maine.
The Song
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You people all, both great and small,
These few lines penned by me, ‘Tis of a man and he is now Deprived of his good liberty; Shut up in court’s consignment For deeds that he has done, And here I fear he must remain ‘Til his race on earth is run. My name it is Benjamin Deane, My age is forty-one, I was born in New Brunswick Near the city of St. John, Close by the Bay of Fundy, Where the sea gulls loud do call As they rock with pride on the silvery tide As the billows rise and fall. I was raised by honest parents, Brought up in the fear of God, But they have long been slumbering Beneath that native sod; Side by side they’re slumbering In that quiet cemetery, As the willows weep before the breeze Way off the deep blue sea. Farewell unto my native home, I ne'er will see it more, No more I'll watch the billows break Upon it's rock bound shore, No more I'll watch those ships go by With sails as white as snow, Bound for some port far o'er the sea Before the winds that blow When I arrived in Berlin Falls Just twenty years ago, Berlin was not near as large What that it is now, Men of every nationality They were working there, For work was plenty, wages good, And each man got his share. The businessmen of Berlin Were making money fast, I thought that I would invest Before the boom had passed. Buildings bought on German street And into business went, I ran a fruit and candy store, Likewise a restaurant. My business proved successful, I did the right by all, Gained the favors of the rich, Likewise, the great, the small. To my surprise before a year Had fully rolled around, In glittering gold did I possess ‘Twas near two thousand pounds. The coming year I wed with one, The fairest of the fair; Her eyes were of a heavenly blue, And dark brown was her hair, Her cheeks were like the early rose, Her form graceful and fair, Her step was like the early light, Her breath was light as air. I own I loved this fair young bride, She proved a prudent wife, Little did she ever think Someday I’d take her life; The day I gained her promise, Her hand to me she gave, It would’ve been better far for her Had she went to her grave. She was raised by honest parents, And raised most tenderly, But little did they ever think That she’d be slain by me. As the years rolled swiftly by, Down on the heels of time, I found the fields of pleasure And to the fields of crime. ‘Twas then I began my wild career, All for the thirst for gold, My business up on German street For a goodly price I sold. Buildings bought on Main street I paid a handsome sum, And ran a free and easy house Went right to selling rum. My former friends of high degree My company did shun, But still I was contented in This life that I’d begun; Gold and silver like a brook Came flowing in to me, By glitters I was blinded And the danger could not see. My wife she often told me My steps I should retrace, She said, “Dear Ben, this path you trod Leads to death and disgrace.” Had I her warning heeded I would not be here now, And she might too be living With no stain upon her brow. I soon began to associate With men of low degree, My business kept me constantly In their base company. I quickly went from bad to worse, Did many a deed of crime That never will be brought to light In future years of time. Kind fortune that had been my friend Began to frown on me; 'Twas then my eyes were opened, I could see my destiny. Black clouds were gathering o'er me, That with fury soon would break, I faint then would retrace my steps, But, ah, alas, too late. All I possessed in real estate To my wife it was made Over in legal writing When kind fortune's smile did fade. But her regard and love for me Did gradually grow cold When she found my heart and soul Were bound with glittering gold. The storm it came; the house I built Upon the sands did fall, With it my name, my wife and children, Ill got wealth and all. And on the verge of deep despair I saw them drift from me Upon the tide of justice Towards the sea eternity. Then under forty thousand Dollar bonds I soon was placed, To respect the laws of man That I had long disgraced. And then to add unto my many Troubles that had come Were four indictments that appeared For selling beer and rum. My fair wife she had fled to one Whose name I will not write, Whose character was blacker Than the darkest hours of night. To persuade her to return to me It was my whole intent, Unto the house where she then dwelt My steps I quickly bent. I carefully approached my house And opened the hall door, Made my way to my wife’s room ‘Twas on the upper floor. The very fiends of hell it seemed Were stamped upon my mind, For on the bosom of a man My fair one’s head reclined. I drew a loaded pistol And I aimed it at her breast, When she saw the weapon It was loudly she did cry, “For God’s sake, do not shoot me, Ben, I am not fit to die.” I heeded not her warning, In a moment she was dead; “For God’s sake, Ben, you shot me!” Was the last words she ever said. The trigger of my pistol, It moved too quick or slow, Or another soul would have passed that day Unto the fields of woe. The last time that I saw my wife She was laying on the floor, Her long and wavy dark brown hair Stained with the crimson gore. The sun shone through the windows Upon her clay, cold face, As the officers led me away From that polluted place. I have two daughters living, They’re orphans in a way, And should you chance to meet them Treat them kindly I pray. Don’t chide them for this crime I’ve done, For on them it will rest In future years long after when I am moldering back to dust. Now come all young men, a warning take From this sad tale of mine, Don’t sacrifice your life For the gold and silver kind. Let truth and honor be your guide, Oh, you’ll success to climb, Success the ladder to the top And don’t a stain like mine. |
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