Aaron Mahnke

After all, Mather figured that Mary had tried to kill her child twice, so why shouldn't she be killed twice as well?

It's an ugly story from top to bottom, I know.

But the worst thing about it, botched hangings like Mary's weren't even rare.

In fact, they happened all the time.

Ropes too short leading to strangulation.

Ropes so long that the condemned would hit the ground.

Heads slipping out of nooses or, in particularly grisly cases, popping off altogether.

Not to mention the fact that the crowds attending public hangings tended to turn into drunken mobs committing even more crimes.

And suffice to say, things needed to change.

A more humane, precise method was in order.

And with electricity new on the scene, it seemed this buzzy modern tech should play a part.

Enter a little piece of furniture called the electric chair.

In 1888, New York became the first state to allow the use of the electric chair.

And two years later, in 1890, it was officially put to the test.

The guinea pig's name was William Kemmler.

He was a vegetable seller from upstate New York who had murdered his wife with a hatchet.

And when, on an early August morning, he stepped into the death chamber at Auburn Prison, he knew full well that he wouldn't be walking back out.

To quote the newspaper from the time, Kemmler easily settled back into the chair, turned calmly to the warden and in such tones as one might speak to a barber who was shaving him, said calmly, now take your time and do it right, warden.

There is no rush.

I don't want to take any chances on this thing.