The Lawshe family moved from Iowa to Jerome, Idaho, some time before 1909. Ted was about twenty years old in 1917, when he married a local girl. Nine months later, he entered the U.S. Navy for duty in World War I. Sadly, his wife died from the “Spanish influenza” in late 1918.
The following summer, he remarried in Pocatello. Over the next several years, he lived in Pocatello, Salt Lake City, Seattle, Tacoma, and back in Jerome. During some of that period, he worked part-time on undercover assignments for a detective agency. That led him into a wide variety of jobs, including garage mechanic, logger, machinist, and ranch hand. Probably upset by such an unstable life, his second wife returned to her family in Utah and divorced him in September 1922. About a year later, Ted married a woman in Tacoma. But she too grew impatient with his peripatetic ways and they separated after a few months.
In the summer of 1924, Ted had a job in Seattle. Then Jack Bench, a man he’d met in Tacoma, came to him with a proposal. A fellow he knew needed someone to help him rob the bank in the small town of Carnation, located about ten miles east of Redmond. Bench would drive the getaway car, which they could borrow from Bench’s brother-in-law. But they needed someone to hold a gun on the bank employees and customers while the other collected the loot.
No one ever explained why Bench thought Lawshe might be open to such a proposition, but Ted saw it as a golden opportunity. Yet a meeting with the scheme’s mastermind, who went by the name of Daniel Malone (aka A. J. Brown), made him doubtful. Malone boasted about an easy street robbery he’d pulled off. On the other hand, word was that his attempt at a restaurant holdup failed because he couldn’t get the cash register open.
Still, he seemed deadly serious about the bank heist. He had tried it by himself, going so far as to cut the bank’s phone line. Then the bank suddenly got crowded, so he backed off. But the setup was perfect: No cops around, not even a town constable. Ted decided to play along and “get the dope” about their caper.
He discussed the notion with George Gannon, operator of a detective agency he had worked for. Gannon advised him to get out of it … tell them he had “got cold feet.” But Ted was determined to foil the plan, perhaps hoping it would land him a job as a full-time detective. Gannon had always found Lawshe to be “honest and trustworthy.” Thus, he agreed to act as a go-between for Ted with King County Sheriff Matt Starwich.
Four deputies met with Ted to learn the details, and no doubt to judge his veracity. Satisfied by the results, the sheriff devised a simple plan. He and six deputies would catch the bandits in the act. “Tough as nails” but flamboyant, Starwich could be counted on to provide colorful copy for the press. Nor was he averse to the publicity … sheriff was an elective office, after all. He tipped off contacts at the various Seattle newspapers and invited them along.
They all drove over to Carnation on the morning of August 13, 1924. To avoid attracting attention, they parked out of sight on the outskirts and filtered into town. Starwich himself took an out-of-the way path; he was too well known to escape recognition. Bank officials had been alerted and a female vice president replaced the regular teller. Three deputies hid in a back room while Starwich and the other deputies were in a shed across the street. The heist was scheduled for 2 o’clock in the afternoon.
After three hours of edgy, and then bored waiting, officers saw the robbers drive slowly by the bank. They were running a few minutes late, but everything looked okay. The car returned and stopped in front of the bank, and Malone and Ted got out. Bench stayed behind the wheel with the motor running. Just after the two entered the bank, officers rushed over. Starwich yanked the driver out and slugged him while the deputies deployed across the front. Inside, the other deputies sprang from hiding with guns drawn and told the would-be robber to give it up.
Ignoring the odds, Malone opened fire – and all Hell broke loose. Deputies inside and out began shooting, some of them quite wildly. Splinters sprayed from all the woodwork, one front window was blown out, and holes were punched in the others. The teller ran and hid in the vault. Meanwhile, Ted stood near the front with his gun up but pointed at nothing. That is, he stood there until he went down from two gunshots.
Malone kept firing even after he fell to the floor. Finally, a shotgun blast stopped him. Then he quickly died. It was estimated that the shooters fired off over fifty rounds, about a dozen of which hit Malone. Besides the two wounds to Ted, one deputy was hit in the thigh by a stray round. He recovered, but Ted died that evening.
The fracas drew mixed reviews, although most reactions were positive. Early reports claimed that Malone had somehow deduced Ted’s betrayal and shot him. But that scenario seemed a bit unlikely, given that the bandit was trying to defend himself against six different shooters.
At the subsequent inquest, testimony easily showed that Malone had died resisting arrest. He was buried as “Daniel Colonel Malone,” apparently the name on his union card for the International Workers of the World. That was all officials knew about him. Even today, despite the unusual middle name, one can find nothing in the public record except his death certificate. We might reasonably assume that “Malone” was just another alias.
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| Bank right after the shoot-out. Seattle Daily Times photo. |
The death of Ted Lawshe led to days of argument. That intensified when George Gannon offered testimony about Ted’s role as an impromptu undercover agent. Still, all six deputies insisted that they had not fired at him. Malone had to have done it. On August 19, the inquest jurors demanded that authorities have the death bullet – only one had been recovered – examined to see what weapon it came form.
Three days later, criminologist Luke S. May appeared on the stand. In his expert opinion, he stated, the fatal bullet was fired from a Smith & Wesson .38-caliber Special revolver. As it happened, the only such weapon involved in the shoot-out was one that Sheriff Starwich had loaned to a deputy. That determined, the coroner’s jury ruled that Ted’s death was an unfortunate accident, sparked by the intense action at the bank. Ted’s father came during the inquest and afterwards returned the young man’s body to Jerome for burial.
| References: “[Attempted Bank Robbery in Carnation],” Seattle Times, Washington (August 14-26, 1924). |
| Phil Dougherty, “King County Sheriff Matt Starwich and posse thwart a bank robbery … ,” Online Encyclopedia of Washington State History, HistoryLink.org, Seattle, Washington (March 25, 2013). |
| Luke S. May, Luke S. May Papers, Special Collections, University of Washington, Seattle, Washington (1969). |
| Christine Savage Palmer, Historic Overview: Carnation, Washington, King County Cultural Resources Division, Seattle, Washington (September 1995). |
| “[Ted Lawshe News from Jerome],” Lincoln County Times, Jerome, Idaho (November 1917 – January 1919). |
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