The murderer Daniel Boon was hanged in Wagga Wagga Gaol in 1876. Photo: Chris Roe.
According to the popular 1960 TV show theme song, “Daniel Boone was a man, yes, a big man!”, and the same could be said for Wagga Innkeeper Daniel Boon, who met an untimely end on the scaffold in 1876.
Standing over six feet tall and weighing 14 stone, Boon could be generous and compassionate, but as the Evening News reported on July 24, 1876, he also “had the character of being a man of violent temper, and when drunk his passions were beyond control”.
In a moment of drunken madness, Boon murdered his former friend Alexander McMillan over an unpaid debt and was “hung at the neck until dead” within the walls of the Wagga Wagga Gaol.
Described as a “native of the colony” and born a triplet with two brothers, Boon was well known in the region and actively involved in the community. He had a wife and young child along with a broad extended family and was generally well liked.
A year before his execution, Boone had provided McMillan with a place to stay and loaned him money to get on his feet and open a forge in North Wagga. But as time passed and the debt remained outstanding, Boon’s affection for his former lodger soured.
According to the testimony of blacksmith Michael Stanton, who worked for McMillan, the drunken publican had walked into their yard with a double-barreled shotgun on the afternoon of January 10.
“Good day,” said McMillan cautiously.
“Will you pay me my rent?” demanded Boone.
“I’ve got no money on me now and we can we settle our affairs without guns,” the blacksmith replied.
After a bit of back and forth, McMillan asked him to put the gun down and Boon instead uncocked the hammers and walked with the smith to the gate.
Wagga’s first permanent gaol was completed in 1862 behind the courthouse on the corner of Sturt and Tarcutta Streets. Photo: Museum of the Riverina.
As Boon began walking towards Wagga, McMillan returned to his work, crouching beside a dray to screw on a nut while Stanton went back into the forge.
Moments later, Stanton heard the demand again – “Will you pay me my rent or not?” and went to the door where he saw Boon with his gun raised standing about 7 meters from where McMillan was kneeling.
“Oh don’t do that, Dan,” McMillan cried as Boon pulled the trigger, blasting him in the left side of his body and sending him sprawling under the wagon.
“I’ve put a trade into your hands and now I’ve taken it out!” Boon announced.
“I know I’ll be hanged, but I’ll stand hanging for a dog like you!”
Boon stormed off up the road, refusing calls from passersby to drop the firearm and telling one man he knew to “come and watch me hanged”.
A short time later, Constable Patrick Ryan saw Boon approach a pair of men and club one of them to the ground with the shotgun.
“Don’t stand there grinning; pay me what you owe me!” the attacker shouted before knocking the other man down.
As the constable took hold of him and warned he’d be arrested, Boon said, “You can arrest me also for being a murderer!”
McMillan died of his wounds several days later, leaving behind a wife and seven children.
Boon was charged with willful murder and convicted in June.
When the day of his execution arrived, the gaol had been prepared for its second ever hanging.
Due to the low walls that had previously allowed passersby to view the proceedings, the scaffold was lowered and a pit dug beneath to extend the drop.
Witnesses were shocked to see the toll prison and anxiety had wrought on the formerly robust innkeeper. The stooped and scrawny wretch who ascended the gallows was a shadow of Boon’s former self.
The condemned man had recently converted to Catholicism and when asked by the attending priest if he had any last words, he replied, “No. Farewell. Farewell to all my friends.”
The Manaro Mercury reported that at 9 am the hangman placed a white shroud over his face and pulled the lever, “and the mortal remains oft he wretched man were dangling a foot below the platform”.
