An irony of the life story of great grandfather George Sechler is that we know far more about him because of his early death than we would if he had survived the events of April 14, 1907.
The two best sources of information about George years during and after his police career are newspaper articles and the transcripts of the trial and appeal of his killer Salvatore Governale. Of course, neither would exist if not for the murder.
New York City has done a poor job preserving its early police department records. Many old records were destroyed around 1914 due to a combination of lack of storage space and political eagerness to clean house on some of the force’s darker eras. A police museum and archive was established on the South Manhattan waterfront in 1973, but was wiped out by Hurricane Sandy in 2012, with no prospects for its rebuilding on the horizon thus far. Today George’s name can be found in police archives documenting his hero status, but comprehensive records of even the names of ordinary New York policemen from that era may not exist.
Because of newspaper records, we know today that…
- George joined the New York police department in 1905 and was quickly promoted to a detective working plain clothes details in Manhattan
- he got the job based on the recommendation of an older relative on the force (who I have not given up on identifying)
- he loved the job and was widely respected by the people he worked with
- he paid regular visits back to his hometown of Danville, and had been there as recently as the winter of 1906/7.
We have ample testimony to his heroism and the love he had for his wife and daughter.
Among everything that was written about George, two articles stand out as particularly revealing of his personality in daily life.
The Poolroom Terror
On April 15, 1907, the New York Tribune printed the following account of the previous day’s events.
Of particular interest, here, is the second-to-last paragraph, describing George as a fearless raider of pool halls.
The Dog Whisperer
On April 17, 1907, an enterprising reporter reporter for the New York Sun filed the following story.
It would be hard not to suspect this story to be at least a little exaggerated, but separately, the following photo turned up on Ancestry, of George’s grave at the Odd Fellows cemetery in Danville being guarded by an unknown dog.
Until proven otherwise, I choose to believe that the reporter and perhaps some of Georgeʼs fellow officers conspired to put Bum on the train to Danville with George’s casket to allow Bum to spend the rest of his days in the Danville countryside with the Sechler family.
So thanks to scores of newspaper articles printed about George, we have a pretty good portrait of him—proud policeman, devoted husband and father, hero and poolroom terror, with a soft spot for stray dogs.
Bridging the Silences 