Murder at the Metropole

One word on a lichen-covered tombstone in the northwest corner of Greenwood Cemetery piqued my interest.

The stone marks Anna Kelly Conklin’s resting place. She was born Oct. 11, 1880, in Fargo. She died in Brookings in 1922.

Etched in her grave marker is her maiden name, Anna Kelly.
Incised in bold lettering beneath the name was “Murdered.”

On Dec. 2, 1918, her former husband, W. H. Conklin of Brookings, fired five shots at her, but only one slug hit her in the leg. The former rural Elkton-area school teacher survived.
She wouldn’t be so fortunate the next time.

That first attempt was while she was waiting to sign divorce papers. Her husband burst into the downtown Brookings law office while her lawyer was busy in another room. She was alone when Conklin entered the office and opened fire.

He was sentenced to two years in the penitentiary for assault with a deadly weapon with intent to kill. Anna recovered, was granted a divorce, and continued managing the Metropole Hotel then on the northeast corner of Third Street and Second Avenue where the Brookings Police-Fire Building is today.

After less than a year in the slammer, Conklin was back, released for good behavior and because Brookings friends petitioned on behalf of the former candidate for Brookings mayor (who had also once served on the Brookings City Council).

Among disagreements the couple had was that he thought Anna had stolen gems from three of his rings and bilked him of about $55,000 in other transgressions.

On Sunday night, Feb. 26, 1922, four years after she had been shot in the leg, Anna was returning to Brookings by train from Redfield where her sister lived. Her former husband was waiting at the depot.

He followed her to the Metropole Hotel where the Police-Firehall is located today. As they entered, the lone occupant in the lobby nodded a smiling hello and continued reading his newspaper.

Conklin asked Anna to follow him to the hotel’s “writing room.” She told him she’d be there in a minute.

A friend of Anna’s entered the hotel about that time. He suspected something amiss and excused himself. He rushed to the depot (still there today) to phone the Metropole. Anna answered.

“Shall I call the police?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said in a quiet, quavering voice.

While the friend was calling police, the proprietor of the depot lunchroom was looking out a north-facing window. He saw the flash of a gun in the Metropole.

It was later learned that Anna had tried to make a run for the front door. Conklin’s first shot struck her in the arm and the slug coursed through her chest. She fell in the hotel lobby near the startled newspaper reader. Conklin walked over, pressed the pistol’s muzzle to her body and fired twice more.

He then placed the pistol in his right ear and pulled the trigger, the dazed lobby newspaper reader told Policeman Jim Connelly. Conklin died instantly, Anna five minutes later.
Coroner Bert Rude found a note in Conklin’s pocket. “She and I will soon be lying side by side in the undertaking rooms,” he had written.

“I hate to do it on account of the good friends who helped to get me pardoned, but I’m down and out, and there isn’t anything for me to live for.”

After the funeral, her mother and other relatives accompanied Anna’s body to Greenwood and the gravestone they had prepared for her. Her murderer is also buried nearby in the northwest corner of Greenwood Cemetery.