Outlaw Frank Rande’s criminal career started when he escaped from the Iowa Penitentiary where he was serving a sentence for burglary. He was sent to Michigan City Prison where he served a sentence for another burglary, this one in Indiana, committed under another name. After being released in August of 1877, he robbed a farmer in Gibson, Indiana, shot and killed two men, and wounded three more who were pursuing him after he robbed yet another home in St. Elmo, Illinois near the Indiana border. His criminal career came to an end three months later when “The Brilliant Bandit of the Wabash” was taken into custody for murdering a law enforcement officer.
During that incarceration, Frank Rande, the man of many aliases, made his only lasting mark upon the pages of Wild West outlaw history. Rande convinced his jailers to allow him the liberty of having a photograph made while he cooled his heels in his cell awaiting trial. Not only did they allow him that special privilege, but they also acquiesced to Rande’s request that he be photographed posed with both of his personal Navy Colt revolvers, fresh out of the evidence locker. That photo, by “Hunt of Galesburg,” sells for thousands of dollars today, that is if one can be found at all.
The Carte-de-visite photo pictures Rande with his hair, beard and mustache freshly waxed, a scowl on his face, a Navy revolver in his right hand, and another belted to his side. He rests his right arm on a mantelpiece in the jailer’s quarters, the hand which holds the revolver is pointed downward. Rande himself wrote the caption on the back of the photo, listing his birthplace as Claysville, Pennsylvania, and his age as 38. So many people visited the outlaw in jail requesting a copy of the photo that Rande decided to have a thousand of them printed to sell to his “fans” to help defray the costs of his legal defense. It was only then that law enforcement learned the real name of Frank Rande.
Rande had lived a life of anonymity, using a dizzying array of fake names and nom de guerres to hide his criminal identity. When the photographer explained that any royalties from the proposed sale of the photos would need to be paid to Rande’s relatives, the outlaw realized that the jig was up. He whispered to the photographer, “My real name is Charles. Charles C. Scott. But don’t tell anybody.” Of course, law enforcement quickly discovered the outlaw’s accurate “legal” name and charged him accordingly.
Rande was tried in February of 1878, and despite the plea of insanity, he was found guilty of second-degree murder and sentenced to life at Joliet Penitentiary. When he walked into Joliet, he carried the rough handwritten pages for a book he had been writing in jail, “The Life and Adventures of Frank Rande, the Bandit of the Wabash.” The book outline along with all of Rande’s other personal papers was immediately confiscated and thrown in the fire by Deputy Warden John McDonald. The Warden told the outlaw that any history would be told by the State of Illinois law enforcement and related judicial agencies. Rande swore revenge from that moment on.
On March 1, 1884, Deputy McDonald entered the collar shop where Rande worked in Joliet Prison. Rande was employed in the manufacture of ladies’ side-saddles and was a most skillful workman. The convict had been a model prisoner for nearly 7 years. Despite this, Rande was kept away from his fellow prisoners, who disliked and distrusted him. While McDonald stopped at the desk to collect his daily report, Rande raised his hand and snapped his finger towards the guard, the sign for a request to go to the restroom. As McDonald turned his back to speak to another convict, Rande picked up a three feet long heavy iron poker, rushed the Warden, and struck him on the head with all his force, smashing in his skull. As McDonald dropped to the ground, Rande shouted “I have killed him at last!” The murderer drew a large knife and delivered a terrible gash in the arm of another officer before two life convicts came to their assistance by hurling Rande violently to the floor.
During the melee, one of the assisting convicts was on top of Rande choking the life out of him. When the officers ordered the convict off, the rescuer begged to be allowed to choke him to death. Rande arose and staggered toward the door and made a quick lunge towards a hatchet on the table. Rande wheeled around and swung the hatchet left and right towards officers and inmates alike. When he leaped towards a Deputy, the officer broke a heavy cane over Rande’s head, cutting him terribly. The officer pulled out his service revolver and shot Rande in the side, then grabbed the convict by the throat. While holding him another officer frantically drew a single-shot derringer revolver, placed the muzzle to Rande’s right ear, and fired, and Rande dropped.
Deputy McDonald and Rande were carried to the hospital. An examination showed McDonald’s skull to be terribly crushed, and pieces of the skull were removed, causing the brain to be exposed two inches long and one inch wide. Rande was unconscious for a long time, and it is unknown how dangerously he was wounded. On recovering consciousness, Rande said: “I am Jesus Christ, and was sent to rid this prison of that cruel deputy. I think I have done it.” Rande continued: “I left a broad trail of blood all the way to the prison when I came here. To do so I killed nine men, and this makes my tenth.”
Deputy Warden McDonald, whose skull was crushed by the desperado, survived. The bullet which penetrated Rande’s ear was extracted and found to have flattened out against his skull without even casing a fracture. The bullet in his side harmlessly struck a rib and glanced around, barely breaking the skin. The bullet later fell out of Rande’s shirt at the hospital. While awaiting trial at Galesburg, he was visited by a brother from Ottumwa, lowa, who gave very little information as to Frank’s past. The article noted, “The career of this man has been more that of a mad dog than of a desperado, for he killed with wanton cruelty, and seemed possessed of an incarnate spirit of revengefulness.”
Newspapers all over the Midwest delighted in telling and retelling Rande’s story, all of which were peppered with the insane religious rants and outrageous claims by the murderer they variously nicknamed “The American Brigand,” “The Knox County Desperado,” and the “St. Louis Pawnshop Fiend.” Frank Rande, who bragged that he had killed 13 men, was convicted of murdering the three men in Illinois on February 28, 1878, and sentenced to life in prison.
The Chicago Tribune and Times, Peoria Transcript, Burlington Hawkeye, St. Louis Post, and Indianapolis Journal had reporters in attendance and many other papers sent special correspondents. Most reported on Rande’s perceived indifference to the proceedings and the accused satisfaction in his own mind that his fate was not to die on the gallows. The St. Louis Journal ran a “Joyous poetical effusion” upon Rande’s being brought to justice: “There is a ruffian named Rande-Far, far away,-Manacles on either hand-By night and by day.-Oh, how they’ll sweetly sing.-When they to the gallows bring.-This rogue to quietly swing,-No more to stay!”
On the morning of March 7th, 1884 Warden McDonald opened the door to Rands’ cell and found him hanging from the bars. The inmate had fastened his undershirt and suspenders to the top bar, stood atop his cell bucket, and hanged himself. Rande had taken off his pants and placed them under the bucket to deaden the sound of his death throes. The March 8, 1884, headline of the Joliet Daily News said simply that Rande “Kicks the Bucket.”
Deputy Warden John McDonald made a full recovery and later carried a watch fob in his vest pocket made out of a half-dollar-sized piece of his own skull. It was a reminder of that fateful encounter with the Brilliant Bandit of the Wabash, perhaps the most famous Wild West outlaw to have ever tramped across the Hoosier state. His name is forgotten, yet his photo remains.
Al Hunter is the author of the “Haunted Indianapolis” and co-author of the “Haunted Irvington” and “Indiana National Road” book series. His newest books are “Bumps in the Night. Stories from the Weekly View,” “Irvington Haunts. The Tour Guide,” and “The Mystery of the H.H. Holmes Collection.” Contact Al directly at Huntvault@aol.com or become a friend on Facebook.
