Murdering Holiness: The Trials of Franz Creffield and George Mitchell (review)

In the first decade of the twentieth century, two murders rocked the Pacific Northwest. The leader of a small religious cult in the Oregon town of Corvallis was shot dead in the streets of Seattle by the brother of a woman who belonged to the group. After he was acquitted of murder, the brother was, in turn, killed by his sister, in revenge for the leader's death. The woman and her accomplice, instead of being tried for murder, were declared incompetent to stand trial by reason of insanity. There is plenty in this tale of passion and revenge to sustain a lurid and melodramatic account. Fortunately, Jim Phillips and Rosemary Gartner possess the skill and patience to unearth details of the story that help to cast light on the currents that flowed through American society at the turn of the last century. They have produced a remarkable case study. While they do justice to the inherent drama of their narrative, they offer far more than tabloid fare. They carefully analyze the main elements of the story and provide a context that helps the reader to make sense of what otherwise seems a weird if compelling episode. In this beautifully produced book, they have been true to the highest standards of critical scholarship, while preserving a humane regard for the subjects of their study.

The story begins with an enigmatic figure, Franz Creffield, a German immigrant who came to America as a young man in the late nineteenth century. By 1899 he was an officer in the Salvation Army in Portland, OR. America at this time was experiencing one of its periodic waves of religious enthusiasm, the holiness movement. Rejecting established denominations for what they saw as their worldliness, 'many holiness groups encouraged asceticism and plain living in all things' (20). By 1903, Creffield had parted from the Salvation Army and become an evangelist in his own right. He presented himself as a prophet, inspired by divine revelation, filled with the holy spirit, perhaps even divine (23). He taught that the end of the world was near and that only a small band of the holy would be saved. Their salvation demanded a radical separation from the materialism that marked a fallen world. This message found a receptive audience among several families in Corvallis, particularly among the women. Phillips and Gartner approach the issue of Creffield's appeal to these women with care. While contemporaries took it as proof of their weaker minds, the authors suggest that the movement offered powerful attractions to women who demonstrated considerable strength of will over the next few years; they 'found the freedom of adherence to God liberating from the bonds of social and gender convention' (34). Opposition from an evil world only fostered a sense of their election and of the righteousness of their cause. They drew strength from the bonds of belief and worship that connected them.

The sect would have deserved no more than a footnote had it not been for the reactions it provoked in the surrounding society. For it was the responses to the group, and especially the ways in which it became embroiled in issues of law, order, and the moral standards of the community, that become the substance of much of the book. The rise of the cult produced unease and finally violence, both collective and individual. For a few months Creffield's activities passed almost unnoticed. Eventually, however, a bonfire of personal property and rumours of animal slaughter drew the attention of neighbours. Corvallis reacted with mingled fascination and horror to gossip that tended to exaggerate the sexual conduct of the sect. Allegations of gross impropriety and moral danger abounded. Especially prominent in these stories were concerns about the threat to the town's families and the situation of the women in the sect. When it came, the community reaction was swift and aggressive. A vigilante force, the 'white caps,' tarred and feathered Creffield...