As parents, we try to protect our children from bad decisions. Not from every bad decision, of course. At times it's best they learn for themselves what works and what doesn't. But there are bad decisions, and there are BAD DECISIONS. When children are young, we don't let them play with matches, run too close to the road, or handle loaded weapons because their judgement is not developed and the consequences of a bad decision are too severe. Because they are young and we control their lives, most of the time we manage to protect them from themselves. When they are older, however, we have less control. When we see disaster brewing, sometimes there is nothing we can do. We tell them, don't do it, don't do it, don't do it, you'll be so sorry, but they do whatever it is anyway, often with disastrous results. Such was the case of Agnes Shackley in early 1897. She wanted to marry a fellow by the name of Walter Blake. There were a hundred warning signs, but Agnes couldn't see them. Marrying Walter Blake was every bit as dangerous as matches, traffic, or a loaded pistol, but Agnes wasn't a kid anymore. She could make her own decisions and her mind was made up. Her parents tried to dissuade her, but she wouldn't listen. Agnes was in love. The town officials wanted to prevent the marriage, because they, too, saw disaster looming. Walter Blake was as unstable as nitroglycerin and could explode into violence at any time. Legally, however, there was nothing they could do. They couldn't deny the license or stop the ceremony. When he was a child living on Paris Hill, Walter had once plunged the blade of a pen knife into a school mate. The blade was not long enough to hit any vital organs and no serious damage was done, so nothing much came of the incident. It was, however, an early indication of Walter's hot and uncontrollable temper. A few years later, Walter's vengeful nature got him sent to reform school where he stayed all his teenage years. When he came back to the Norway Paris area as a young adult, his disposition was not improved. Later on he was sent to state prison for four years for trying to kill his sister-in-law by setting fire to a building she was in. Now his prison term was up. Walter Blake was back in town and had wooed and won Agnes Shackley. Despite everyone's warnings, Agnes wanted to marry him and did so on the 19th of February, 1897, with the Methodist Reverend I. A. Bean reading the vows. A few weeks after the wedding, the following article appeared in the Oxford Democrat: Quite a sensation was caused Saturday afternoon by the report that Walter Blake had taken poison. Blake had been married only a little more than a week, but it seems that domestic troubles and jealousy had already begun to make their appearance, and Blake got an ounce or more of aconite which he had previously had to use for a cold, and drank it in the presence of his wife and the family with whom they boarded. He then told them what he had done, and a physician was hastily summoned, an emetic administered, and he is out all right now. The physician strongly advised him to do a better job next time. Drinking the aconite wasn't an attempt at suicide at all. He did it as a vengeful act to hurt his wife. It wasn't long before Walter's jealousy and temper spread from emotional abuse, to physical attacks on Agnes. What had she gotten herself into? This wasn't how she thought it was going to be. Her parents had tried to tell her, but she wouldn't listen. She now wished she had. By September, enough was finally enough and she had Walter arrested for assault and battery. The judge gave Walter 30 days in jail. Walter was angry with Agnes. Very angry. The only reason he didn't kill her at the end of the thirty day jail term was because the judge had ordered Walter to pay a $200 security bond to keep the peace. Walter couldn't raise the money, so would have to stay in jail for a year. The months went by. In February, 1889, Agnes sued for and was granted a divorce on the grounds of cruel and abusive treatment. She got a job keeping house for a man in South Paris. She was getting her life back together. Then in May of 1889, after a session of court, the following article appeared in the Oxford Democrat: NOT LIFE PRISONERS Two inmates of the jail, Walter C. Blake and Edward Leighton, who were committed for failing to furnish sureties to keep the peace, were ordered discharged by the court. Leighton has been in several months, and Blake longer. Walter was out. He was looking for Agnes and he made no bones about the fact that he intended to kill her. Less than a week later, Walter was back in jail where he stayed from May until October, when the State Court convened and heard the case. The newspaper report of the trial follows: STATE VS BLAKE Mr. Wright was assigned to defend Blake. The evidence in this case relates to an assault made by Blake upon his divorced wife, on the 17th of last May. It appears that Mrs. Blake was keeping house for George E. Buck at South Paris, and that on the day in question Blake went there and threatened to kill her. She called for help and he left. In the afternoon he came again and she ran to a neighbor's, then he left. She returned to the house, and he came back and broke into the house at the back door. She ran out at the front door and to the house of a neighbor, Stephen Cutler. Blake ran after her, overtook her in the yard of Mr. Cutler's house, and notwithstanding Mrs. Cutler putting herself in the way, Blake grabbed Mrs. Blake by the hair, pulled her down and kicked her in the head. Sumner E. Tucker, who was calling on a relative in the neighborhood, at this point succeeded in getting Blake away. Mrs. Blake was found to be suffering from concussion of the brain and was in a critical condition for a week and under the care of Dr. Larrabee for a month and finally recovered. Several of the witnesses testified to threats made by Blake, both at the time of the assault and previously, and Judge Herrick C. Davis of the Norway Municipal Court, before whom the preliminary hearing was held, testified that at that hearing Blake admitted that he meant to kill her, as he had threatened to do. Blake was the only witness for the defence, and the defence consisted simply of a denial of intent to kill. Blake admitted the assault, but said he did it to punish his wife because she applied a vile epithet to him that he couldn't stand.
The jury was about half an hour and returned a verdict of guilty. Later in that same issue, a report of the sentencing was given. In the case of Walter C. Blake, County Attorney Harlow stated to the court that Blake had been convicted of assault with intent to kill; that considering the nature of the assault, as shown by the evidence, and Blake's record, he felt that he ought to have the full penalty of the law imposed. Blake was given an opportunity to say something. He briefly denied any intention of killing his divorced wife, calling God to witness that he spoke the truth.
Judge Savage replied that the jury had returned a verdict on the matter, and he thought the verdict was well supported by the evidence. He then sentenced Blake to nine years in state prison. The public breathed a sigh of relief when this sentence was pronounced, as it was felt that the community was safer for the next few years. Walter Blake is certainly as near an incorrigible criminal as has ever been reared in this vicinity. His moral sense seems to be deficient, and he has spent about a third of his thirty-seven years in reform school, jails, and state prison. He always had a violent temper, and whether this was materially affected by his being made the butt of jokes by his school mates and playfellows, may perhaps be a pertinent question. At any rate, it has not improved with age, and has been a constant source of trouble to him and those around him. It seems better that he should be under restraint. I fear for Agnes. In scanning the microfilmed copies of the Oxford Democrat, I haven't been able to find when Walter got out of prison and what happened when he did. I hope he had the sense not to come back to Norway, or if he did come back, I hope Agnes had the sense to be gone without a trace. I don't know if Walter eventually killed her, or if she lived her whole life in fear that he might one day show up. Perhaps Walter died and Agnes got over all this and lived a long and happy life. I don't know. I guess there is nothing we can do about it now, anyway. It was a hundred years ago and, whatever happened, Walter and Agnes are both dead now. The other day at work, a committee I sit on was considering charity appeals. The motion came up whether or not to provide money to help support the Abused Women's Advocacy Project. I thought of Agnes. "All in favor of supporting the Project?" "Aye," I said.
Agnes and Walter