Money, Murder and Politics:
The Reasons Why Whiting and Robertsdale Are Not One City

John Hmurovic
February 2020

Why is Robertsdale a part of Hammond, while Whiting is its own city? There was a time when Whiting and Robertsdale were almost united. Why it failed to happen, is a story of money, murder, and politics.  

For those who don’t know, the far northern part of Hammond is the neighborhood of Robertsdale. For those who live there, the simple question, “Where are you from?” can be a little difficult to answer. The accurate answer is “Hammond.” The confusion starts with their home address. On every letter they receive, every form they fill out, even on their driver’s licenses, they are identified as being from “Whiting.” That’s because their mail goes to the Whiting post office, not to Hammond.   

The confusion continues with the telephone exchange. It’s 6-5-9 for Robertsdale and Whiting residents, which is different from Hammond’s phone exchanges. Then there’s the fact that a mile or two of lakes and industry separates Robertsdale from the rest of Hammond, while Whiting is just down the street, or even across the street for some Robertsdale residents. Then there’s the fact that many Whiting and Robertsdale residents went to the same schools, the same churches, the same community groups, and so on and so on. Robertsdale has always been physically, socially, and culturally connected to Whiting, more than it is to the rest of Hammond.  

So, why aren’t Whiting and Robertsdale united in one city?

The first part of the answer is money. The story begins in 1892.

In the spring of that year, a public meeting was held. It had been less than three years earlier that Standard Oil built a refinery in Whiting and changed the community forever. When Standard came in 1889, Whiting was just the name of a stop on the railroad line. About 100 people lived near the tracks that ran along Lake Michigan’s shoreline, with dunes and lakes on all other sides. With such a small population, there was no need to form a town government. Standard Oil’s arrival changed that. By 1891, Whiting was a boom town. Over the next ten years its population would increase nearly 1,900-percent. By 1892, many felt the time was right to form a town. That’s why the public meeting was held.

At that meeting, “everyone appeared to be in favor,” according to an account in the 1909 Whiting City Almanac. It was agreed that the town of Whiting should run along the shore of Lake Michigan, from the Illinois state line, to the Indiana Harbor ship canal. Those boundaries would have included almost all of Robertsdale, and a piece of what is now East Chicago. A committee was formed to work out a few details and would report back at a second public meeting.

But when the second meeting began, it quickly became obvious that there was a complete reversal of opinion, according to U.G. Swartz, who had been on the committee that was working to finalize the plan. Leading the opposition were the two largest landowners in the community, Standard Oil and the Forsythe family.

The reason they objected had to do with money. They feared their taxes would rise if Whiting incorporated as a town. By the end of the meeting, the Almanac recounted, “Many felt that we should leave well enough alone.” They adjourned the meeting with no plans to move forward with incorporation. “What appeared to be at hand,” Swartz said, was “put over into the dim future.”

That moment was the best chance Whiting and Robertsdale had to become one city. “This lack of vision on the part of the oil company,” wrote Calumet Region historian Powell Moore, “deprived Whiting of its golden opportunity to become one of the larger cities along the southern shore of Lake Michigan.”

Many, like Swartz, thought this was just a delay, not the end of the road. But on Monday, July 17, 1893, seven strangers wandered into Robertsdale. What they did, set into motion a series of events that legally split the two communities forever. Minutes after their approach, one man was dead, another had wounds that would lead to his death, and six others had gunshot injuries.    

It happened at a resort operated by William Timm. His resort catered to hunters, primarily from Chicago, who were drawn by the thousands of ducks and waterfowl in Whiting-Robertsdale at the time. By early evening, those who had visited the resort had gone home. Minnie Timm, William’s wife, had recently given birth and was resting inside the house with her baby. William was outside the house at 7:30 P.M. on that summer evening, the sun not quite set. He sat under a tree with George and Maggie Dorsch, and Rose Tzier, who came over to visit Minnie and her baby.

While they talked, Timm spotted seven strangers approaching the resort. Assuming they were customers, he got up and went inside to serve the men. The room was unlit and somewhat dark as night approached. The strangers asked for drinks. When Timm bent down to get the drinks, one of the men hit him in the face. The man drew a gun and pointed it at Timm.

The stranger picked the wrong man for a gun fight. Timm, a hunter and an excellent shot, quickly drew his revolver and killed the man. The other men drew their guns. Using the body of the dead man as a shield, Timm fought off the strangers, wounding two of them. All six retreated and left the bar. Timm grabbed his shotgun and went outside.

The leader of the group, a one-armed man named Gallagher, was waiting for him. But Timm, again, got off the best shot. Gallagher was wounded. Meanwhile, George Dorsch, who was outside with the two women, came to Timm’s aid, even though he did not have a gun. The strangers shot him twice in the abdomen. Two other men, Robert Purdy and Jacob Zylinger, were close enough to hear the shooting and came to help. They were spotted by the retreating strangers and were greeted by a series of shots which struck them. Neither Purdy nor Zylinger was badly injured. Dorsch survived, but only after a long battle for his life. Timm also had injuries.

After the strangers left. Gallagher was still on the ground with a bad wound from Timm’s shotgun. Someone brought him a glass of water. Gallagher wore a long-sleeved shirt. Inside the sleeve on the side without an arm, he kept a rock. When the person approached with the water, Gallagher grabbed the rock and attacked him. Gallagher was stopped before he could cause any injury. He was clearly still a danger. To protect themselves, they chained Gallagher to a tree and sent someone to get help.   

Since Robertsdale was unincorporated at the time, the Lake County Sheriff was responsible for dealing with crime. But the sheriff’s office was thirty miles away in Crown Point. In 1893, neither telephones nor good roads were available in the Robertsdale area. The only way to alert the sheriff was to travel thirty miles of rough trails. It was almost a full day’s trip there and back. In the meantime, Gallagher, badly wounded, but still very dangerous, remained chained to a tree overnight and through the next morning. It was the next afternoon before the sheriff arrived, took custody of Gallagher, and the dead body inside Timm’s resort. Gallagher was taken to the hospital and died several weeks later.

No one knew for certain why the strangers attacked Timm. It was thought that they were members of the Lake Shore Gang, a group known in the area for robbing trains outside of Chicago. But the one thing the people living near Timm did know, was that they felt in danger. Timm was a master shot. Long after this incident, he regularly won trap shooting matches at Whiting’s Lakefront Park, even in the months before his death in 1937. Others, though, knew they might not survive an attack by a gang of criminals. “Fear,” Swartz later wrote, “seized the hearts of those living in Robertsdale.”

In 1893, most of what we now call North Hammond was not settled. The closest, large cluster of people was just north of what we now know as Downtown Hammond. That was five miles away. In the days of horses and buggies, that was not close. It was, however, the best option available to Robertsdale residents. They petitioned Hammond, asking to become a part of that city. “Thus,” Swartz said, “the opportunity for a greater Whiting was forever lost.”

Thomas Hammond, the mayor of Hammond, was not enthusiastic about the annexation of Robertsdale. He was, however, sympathetic to the plea of Robertsdale residents for police protection. He also recognized the value of annexing Robertsdale and its location on Lake Michigan. Hammond already had a water works on the lakeshore, and a pipeline that ran through Robertsdale. Annexing the land north of the city would give Hammond complete control over its water supply.

While Mayor Hammond was supportive, but not enthusiastic about annexation, his successor was completely onboard with the idea. In fact, Mayor Patrick Reilly not only wanted to annex Robertsdale, he also wanted to annex the unincorporated community of Whiting. Meanwhile, East Chicago, watching what was happening, decided it might be in their best interests to gobble up Whiting before Hammond could act, but Hammond was more aggressive.

In 1894, the Hammond city council passed an ordinance to annex all of Whiting, except the refinery and other land owned by Standard Oil. Leaving out the oil company was a strategic move. The refinery, and the tax revenue it could bring in, is what Hammond officials really wanted. But to make it happen, Hammond knew that it would have to endure a long and costly legal battle against one of the world’s richest corporations. So, step one of the plan was to take in all the land around the refinery. That would cut the refinery off from East Chicago and block that community from annexing it. Also, with the refinery surrounded by Hammond, the city’s legal case would be stronger when the time was right for step two of the plan: forcing the refinery into Hammond city limits.   

Immediately after passing the ordinance to annex Whiting, the city of Hammond sent police officers to the Whiting-Robertsdale area to establish Hammond’s authority. The move did not go over well with Whiting residents. They were ready to fight.

U.G. Swartz, who by then had founded the Whiting Democrat, led the public fight in his newspaper, saying Whiting was not willing to be “swallowed up by the capricious maw of the greedy neighbor to the south.” Although Swartz still hoped to form a single town that included Robertsdale, he was realistic about that happening. “If we cannot take in all territory to the state line, we must be content with a part of it. We do not believe however that the Hammond city council can attend to the affairs of Whiting as well as we can ourselves.”

Whiting residents did all they could to keep from being taken in by Hammond. People from Whiting attended every meeting of the Hammond city council, and never missed an opportunity to speak up and ask the Hammond councilmen to give up their effort to annex Whiting. They also delivered the message in the courts, setting in motion a long process of lawsuits and appeals between Whiting residents and Hammond. The Forsythe family, which owned most of the vacant land in Whiting-Robertsdale, joined Whiting in the fight, recognizing that Hammond’s desire for more tax revenue was not in their monetary interest.

In June 1894, Whiting residents took more steps to protect themselves from their neighbors. They took a census to find out who lived here and who was eligible to vote. Then, they petitioned the Lake County Commissioners, asking for permission to hold an election on the question of whether Whiting should incorporate as a town. The commissioners granted the request, and an election day was set. But an appeal by Hammond delayed the election. It wasn’t until March 1895, that the Porter County Court ruled in Whiting’s favor. The election was scheduled for June 18, 1895.

There was just one item on the ballot that day: “Yes” was the choice for those who wanted Whiting to form its own government, and “no” for those who did not want to see that happen. Standard Oil officials got involved in the campaign, as did the Forsythe family. This time, everyone agreed that Whiting should incorporate as its own town. Or, almost everyone. The final vote: 685 yes; 2 no.

Whiting residents moved forward, still battling Hammond in the courts, and by setting a date for another election, this one to elect town officials. On election night, September 30, 1895, the winners of that election celebrated with bonfires and fireworks. The next day the celebrating came to an abrupt end. Whiting learned that Hammond was not giving up the fight. Hammond received a last-minute ruling from the court: The newly elected Whiting town officials were not allowed to take office until the court cases were settled.  

For another eight months, the battle raged on. William S. Rheem, a Standard Oil official, was the town’s first board president. He later went on to become president of Standard Oil of California. As board president, he had the Whiting town board meet regularly, even though it did not have legal authority to take any action, such as the establishment of a police force, or a water and electrical system for area residents. But in June 1896, an unexpected opportunity came up.

Whiting was small and didn’t have a lot of political clout. But in 1896, Edgar Crumpacker and future Indiana Governor J. Frank Hanly, were engaged in a very tight fight for the Republican nomination for Congress in the 10th Congressional District of Indiana, the district which embraced several Indiana counties and included Whiting and Hammond. Hanly was an incumbent from Williamsport in Warren County, which is about 100 miles south of Whiting. The Democratic controlled Indiana General Assembly redrew the congressional maps after Hanly’s 1894 election, which forced him to move to Lafayette and run in the 10th District. Crumpacker was from Valparaiso.

Whiting was allowed two votes in the 10th District Republican convention. The delegates chosen to cast those votes were Town Board President Rheem, and Whiting physician William E. Putnam. Both were inclined to favor Crumpacker, the local candidate. But, when it became obvious that the vote was going to be very close, they let it be known that they might vote for Hanly. Their votes would be enough to win Hanly the nomination.

Their move was pure politics. Edgar Crumpacker was the brother of Peter Crumpacker. Peter was the attorney for the Hammond city council who led the legal fight for Hammond’s desire to annex Whiting. Rheem and Dr. Putnam delivered a simple message to Edgar Crumpacker: Either get your brother and the city of Hammond to drop its efforts to annex Whiting or lose your chance to get the Republican nomination to Congress.

Crumpacker wanted the nomination, so he promised to give Whiting what it wanted in return for it. The two Whiting delegates voted for him, and their votes made a difference. He won the nomination by one-and-a-half votes over Hanly. Crumpacker went on to win the 1896 election against his Democratic opponent. More importantly to Whiting, Crumpacker kept his promise. On October 6, 1896, a month before election day, the Hammond city council dropped its efforts to annex Whiting. On October 10, the case was officially dismissed in the courts. A three-year legal tussle came to an end, and on October 14, the residents of Whiting once again held a massive celebration with parades, speeches, and other activities. In the end, it was pure politics that guaranteed that Whiting would be its own city, and Robertsdale would be a part of the city of Hammond.

There have been numerous attempts in the years that followed to either have Whiting incorporated into Hammond, or have Robertsdale break up with Hammond and become a part of Whiting. But none of those efforts came as close to fruition as the incorporation and annexation efforts of the 1890s. It was money, the fear of taxes. that kept the two from forming their own city. It was the attempted murder of William Timm that led Robertsdale to become a part of Hammond. And it was politics that kept Hammond from taking in Whiting.