The Murders Of A Minister And His Lover Were Dubbed The ‘Crime Of The Century’

Perhaps one of the earliest examples of a murder that morphed into an outright media sensation, this case captivated the public for generations. And really, that’s hardly a surprise — it ticked all of the boxes: sex, money, and bloodshed.

So, was the Episcopal priest, Edward Wheeler Hall, really murdered by his wife, Frances Noel Stevens, after she discovered his illicit affair with Eleanor Mills, a member of his congregation? Or might Eleanor’s husband, James, have been the guilty party?

The scandal began on September 16, 1922, when two bodies were discovered on a disused farm on the outskirts of New Brunswick. A man and a woman, they had been shot several times before being arranged on their backs under a crab apple tree.

But it was the love letters — and the calling card identifying the man as a local priest — found at the scene that really got people talking. And before long, investigators were able to put a name to the female victim, as well.

While Edward had just the one bullet wound, Eleanor had three — and her throat had been cut. What’s more, whoever was responsible for the murders had taken the time to place the bodies and letters in a specific way.

Before the Hall-Mills murder case hit the headlines, New Brunswick was considered a fairly typical New Jersey town. Home to the prestigious Rutgers University, though, it attracted some of the region’s most blue-blooded families, many of whom were descendants of the influential Carpender family.

But New Brunswick wasn’t just for the moneyed elite. To the west of the Carpenders’ sprawling mansions was a far more down-at-heel area, home to immigrants and low-income families.

On the border of New Brunswick’s affluent area, where mansions gave way to more modest dwellings, stood the Church of Saint John the Evangelist. Here, it didn’t matter whether someone was a Carpender or a carpenter — they were all members of the same congregation.

Before he was brutally murdered, Edward was the head of the congregation at the Church of Saint John the Evangelist. Having graduated from the General Theological Seminary of the Episcopal Church, the ambitious young priest had taken a position as a curate in Basking Ridge, New Jersey.

According to reports, Edward was keen to climb the social ladder. And the Church of Saint John the Evangelist, with its many wealthy congregants, must have seemed an attractive prospect for such a person.

Apparently, Edward wasn’t known to be a particularly handsome man. But he seems to have possessed large amounts of charisma and charm — attributes that soon entranced his congregation.

If Edward had hoped to secure social standing through marriage, he couldn’t have wished for a better match. On her mother’s side, Frances was descended from the Carpenders and the founding fathers of New Brunswick.

Despite her impressive heritage, though, Frances was never considered a great beauty. And before she met Edward, she seemed resigned to life as a bachelorette, inhabiting one of her family’s large mansions and devoting her time to religion and charitable pursuits.

Although they made for an unlikely couple, Frances and Edward began courting. Of course, many believed he was only in it for the money, and whispers followed the couple wherever they went.

On July 20, 1911, Frances walked up the aisle in the same lace and silk dress that her mother had worn some 40 years previously. And after the wedding, she hosted a lavish party during which her wealthy friends showered the newlyweds with expensive gifts.

But dreams — particularly those founded on money and deceit — have a habit of unraveling. And a little over 11 years later, Edward was found dead, along with the woman who had been his lover.

Two days before the bodies were discovered, Edward had left the large Victorian mansion that he shared with Frances at around 7.30 p.m. And according to Louise Geist, one of the Halls’ servants, there was no reason to suspect that anything was wrong.

But the next morning, Edward hadn’t returned — and the Hall household had begun to panic. Apparently, it was out of character for him to be away for so long without calling to let Frances know what was going on.

The following afternoon Frances’ fears were confirmed when a journalist called the Hall home, asking obtuse questions about Edward’s whereabouts. Apparently, word had begun to spread about the bodies found at the abandoned farm — and the calling card discovered at the scene.

By this point, the site of the murders, referred to locally as the Phillips farm, had descended into total chaos. Drawn by the promise of scandal and intrigue, curious onlookers had begun to arrive en masse, transforming the crime scene into something more closely resembling a circus.

In his 2022 book Blood & Ink: The Scandalous Jazz Age Double Murder That Hooked America On True Crime, writer Joe Pompeo quoted a witness who had watched the madness unfold. From this person’s words, we get a little insight into how weird and frenzied the reaction to this tragedy became.

Of course, Edward had been easily identified from the calling card found alongside his body. And with so many people pouring into the crime scene, it didn’t take long for someone to fill in the next piece of the puzzle.

Apparently, there had long been rumors that Edward and Eleanor were engaged in an affair. And certainly, the letters found next to their bodies — and the fact that the Phillips farm was located next to an infamous lovers’ lane — seemed to confirm this.

According to reports, Eleanor had also been unhappy in her marriage, frequently quarreling with her husband James. Even before Edward’s arrival at her local church, she had been a dedicated member of the congregation.

Reportedly, the two soon became lovers, exchanging notes during hymnals at church. But clearly, they had not been quite as discrete as they might have believed. And now, they lay dead in a pool of blood.

Of course, the finger of suspicion soon fell on Frances herself. After all, some believed that she had been aware of the affair all along. And according to her maid Louise, the evening before the bodies were discovered, Frances had had a strange conversation on the telephone.

Had Frances, broken-hearted — and perhaps fearful of the scandal Edward’s affair might cause in polite society — decided to take matters into her own hands? As police began to investigate the murders, they naturally questioned the now-widowed heiress about her movements in the lead-up to the crime.

According to reports, police also questioned Henry and William Stevens, Frances’ brothers, as well as her cousin, Henry de la Bruyere Carpender. But in the end, there wasn’t enough evidence to indict any of the suspects.

Just a few years earlier, the New York Daily News had become the first tabloid paper in all of the United States, championing shock value over responsible reporting. And pretty soon, several other publications had followed suit.

Reflecting on the role of the press in blowing interest in this case up, Joe Pompeo told local website NorthJersey.com in 2022, “[The story] probably would have just gone away, and Frances Hall and her brothers would have lived out their lives in peace, were it not for Phil Payne’s crusade in The Daily Mirror to bring the case back.”

“[The Daily News founder Joseph] Patterson believed there were three things people wanted to read about,” Pompeo continued. “Love or sex, money, or murder. Readers were especially interested when a story involved all three.”

Keen to drum up interest, the tabloids of the day tried all manner of tactics to force a confession out of the key suspects. On one occasion, journalists from the New York Daily News staged a seance in an attempt to convince James that his late wife sought vengeance.

Reportedly, James soon despatched the intruders by threatening them with a large knife. But the tabloids hadn’t quite scraped the bottom of the journalistic barrel just yet. Standards and integrity, to these people, were little more than words.

Eventually, after years of tireless campaigning and harassment from the tabloids, the authorities reopened the case. And in November 1926 the Stevens and Carpender families found themselves on trial once more.

During the trial, the jury heard from suspect-turned-witness Ralph Gorsline, who claimed to have heard gunshots on the night that Edward and Eleanor were killed. And they were also told of similarities between fingerprints belonging to William, known as Willie, and those found on the victim’s calling card.

Suffering from cancer at the time of the trial, Jane was wheeled into the courtroom on her hospital bed. According to reports, she told the jury that she had seen both William and Frances at the Phillips farm shortly before the murders.

After a month-long trial which saw almost 200 witnesses called to the stand, the jury found the defendants not guilty on all accounts. Vindicated, Frances sued the Daily Mirror for defamation, settling out of court for an undisclosed sum.

In 1969, reports claim, a man named Julius Bolyog came forward with a deathbed confession. Apparently, he had been friendly with William — and the younger Carpender brother had often talked about his role in the murders.

In the years since, everyone from Eleanor’s husband James to the Klu Klux Klan have been blamed for the murders that captivated America. But despite several books — plus a podcast and a play — the definitive truth has never been uncovered.