The Axeman of New Orleans: Jazz, Blood, and Terror in the Crescent City

 

In the sultry streets of early 20th-century New Orleans, where jazz spilled from smoky clubs and the scent of gumbo filled the air, death crept in quietly—wielding an axe. Between 1918 and 1919, a city known for its celebration of life became the stage for a series of brutal murders that would go down in American crime lore. The killer was never caught. His motive remains a mystery. But his legacy—written in blood and chilling letters—still haunts the pages of history. They called him The Axeman of New Orleans.

The First Blow

It began on a quiet night in May 1918. Joseph and Catherine Maggio, a grocer and his wife, were found in their home with their skulls smashed by an axe. Their throats had been slit with a straight razor. There was no sign of forced entry—only a panel chiseled out of the back door, and the killer’s weapon, left at the scene. The brutality was shocking, even in a city known for occasional violence.

Just weeks later, another attack. Louis Besumer and his mistress Harriet Lowe were found in the back of his store, their heads caved in by the blunt end of an axe. Lowe survived just long enough to cast suspicion back on Besumer, though he was never convicted. The Axeman had struck again—and he was just getting started.

Pattern of Terror

The killings continued with eerie consistency. The victims were often grocers or lived above grocery stores. Most were of Italian descent. All were attacked in their sleep. The weapon was always an axe—often their own—used to crush their skulls in the dead of night. The back panel of the door was frequently removed with a chisel, suggesting a calculated and practiced killer.

The city spiraled into panic. Newspaper headlines screamed warnings. Citizens armed themselves and refused to sleep. Italian-American communities lived in fear, convinced they were being specifically targeted.

Then, the Axeman added a new twist—one that pushed the horror into the realm of the surreal.

The Jazzman’s Letter

On March 13, 1919, the New Orleans Times-Picayune published a letter, allegedly from the Axeman himself. It was a bizarre, taunting note claiming to be from “Hell,” written in theatrical prose:

“I am not a human being but a spirit and a demon from the hottest hell... I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman.”

But the most disturbing part was yet to come. The letter declared that at 12:15 AM on the night of March 19, he would pass over the city again, but would spare any household where a jazz band was playing.

That night, the city erupted into music. Every dance hall was packed. Homes hosted impromptu jazz parties. Musicians played from porches and balconies. The entire city danced to avoid death.

And true to his word, the Axeman killed no one that night.

Who Was He?

Despite dozens of suspects and frenzied investigations, the Axeman’s identity remains unknown. Some believed he was a mafia hitman. Others suggested he was mentally ill, obsessed with jazz or targeting Italian grocers for personal reasons. A few even speculated that the Axeman was never a single person, but rather a series of unrelated murders sensationalized into a single narrative.

Among the most famous suspects was Joseph Mumphrey, a man with a violent past and mob connections. He reportedly fled New Orleans after the attacks stopped and was later killed by the widow of one of the victims in Los Angeles. Some consider this an unofficial resolution to the case—but without solid evidence, it's nothing more than a legend.

The Final Attack

The Axeman’s last known victim was Mike Pepitone, murdered in his home in October 1919, again in a fashion consistent with the earlier killings. His wife and six children were in the house at the time but were unharmed. After that, the trail went cold. The murders stopped. The Axeman vanished into the same fog of mystery from which he had emerged.

Legacy of Fear

More than a century later, the Axeman of New Orleans remains one of America’s most chilling unsolved mysteries. His crimes have inspired books, podcasts, songs, and even TV shows—most notably an episode of American Horror Story: Coven, where the Axeman is portrayed as a supernatural entity haunting New Orleans.

But beneath the pop culture fascination lies a tragic truth: at least a dozen lives were ended or forever altered by this faceless killer. The victims were mothers, fathers, storekeepers, lovers—ordinary people brutally slain in a place that should have been safest: their own homes.

A Killer’s Symphony

What sets the Axeman apart isn’t just the method of his murders—it’s the eerie theatricality of it all. The jazz ultimatum. The taunting letters. The grotesque confidence that he could control an entire city’s behavior with a few sentences. It wasn’t just murder. It was performance.

New Orleans, with its rich traditions of music, mysticism, and folklore, was the perfect setting for such a chilling chapter. And perhaps that’s why his story endures. The Axeman didn’t just kill—he carved his name into the city’s soul, becoming a legend that dances on the edge of nightmare and history.