The 1850 Charlestown Bank Heist: New Hampshire's Bizarre Robbery Gone Wrong

In the quiet village of Charlestown, New Hampshire—nestled along the Connecticut River in the Upper Valley, a peaceful farming community of just over 1,000 souls in 1850—a crime unfolded that would become one of the most peculiar and talked-about bank robberies in early American history. On the night of October 14–15, 1850, unknown thieves executed a daring burglary at the Connecticut River Bank, tunneling through earth and brick to breach the vault and escape with approximately $5,000 in gold coins, banknotes, and securities (equivalent to roughly $180,000–$200,000 in today's dollars). What made the heist truly bizarre was not just the meticulous planning or the substantial haul, but the astonishing incompetence that followed: the robbers left behind a trail of clues, botched their getaway, and ultimately led authorities straight to them through a combination of greed, carelessness, and bad luck. The case—often called New Hampshire's "Great Bank Robbery" or "America's Strangest Bank Heist"—exposed the vulnerabilities of early banking institutions, captivated the press, and ended in dramatic trials and convictions. Coming at a time when bank robberies were rare and sensational, the Charlestown heist stands out in New England true crime lore—echoing the calculated greed of Salem's 1830 murder of Captain Joseph White or the vanishing mystery of New York's Judge Joseph F. Crater. But who were the culprits behind this audacious yet comically flawed crime, and how did a seemingly perfect plan unravel so spectacularly? Drawing from contemporary newspaper accounts, court records, and historical analyses, let's reconstruct the crime, the investigation, the suspects, the trials, and the lasting legacy of the 1850 Charlestown Bank Heist—a tale of ambition, betrayal, and the peculiar folly of criminals.

The Connecticut River Bank, established in 1825 in Charlestown (then a bustling trade hub on the river), was a modest but respected institution serving farmers, merchants, and riverboat operators. Its vault, located in the basement of a sturdy brick building on Main Street, was secured by a thick iron door and considered one of the safest in the region. The bank held deposits in gold and silver coins, state banknotes, and securities—typical for the era before widespread paper currency. On the evening of October 14, 1850, the bank closed as usual, with cashier Benjamin F. Putnam locking up and heading home. No alarms existed; security relied on thick walls and the vault's iron door.

Sometime after midnight, thieves began their work. They entered the bank through a rear window or door (accounts vary), then spent hours digging a tunnel from the basement floor into the vault wall. The tunnel—approximately 3 feet wide, 4 feet high, and 10–12 feet long—was excavated through packed earth and brick, using shovels, picks, and crowbars. Once inside the vault, the robbers drilled into the iron money chest (a smaller safe within the vault) and removed the contents: about $5,000 in gold coins, banknotes, and securities. They left the vault door open, the tunnel exposed, and a trail of tools and debris behind.

The robbery was discovered the next morning, October 15, when Putnam arrived to open the bank. The scene was chaotic: earth piled in the basement, the vault breached, and the money chest empty. Charlestown authorities summoned help from nearby towns and the New Hampshire State Police (then in its infancy). A citizens' committee offered a $1,000 reward (about $35,000 today), and newspapers from Boston to New York carried the story, dubbing it the "Great Charlestown Bank Robbery."

The investigation moved swiftly due to the robbers' mistakes. Tools left at the scene included a distinctive chisel and crowbar; footprints and wagon tracks led toward the river. Witnesses recalled seeing three men—two local and one stranger—acting suspiciously in the days prior. Key evidence emerged when a Charlestown resident, John Brockway, reported selling shovels and picks to three men matching descriptions. The trail led to Luther G. White, a 28-year-old Charlestown resident with a criminal past (prior thefts), and his accomplices William H. Green (a 25-year-old laborer) and Charles H. Green (William's brother, 22). A fourth suspect, James H. Green (another brother), was later implicated but not convicted.

The trio was arrested within days. Luther White confessed under pressure, implicating the others and detailing the plan: they targeted the bank after learning of large cash deposits from a recent fair. The tunnel took two nights to dig; they worked in shifts, hiding during the day. Greed led to their downfall—they spent stolen gold coins openly in local taverns, drawing attention. The Green brothers also attempted to flee to Canada but were captured in Claremont, NH.

The trial began in December 1850 in Newport, New Hampshire, before the Cheshire County Court. Prosecutors presented physical evidence (tools, footprints, tunnel debris), witness testimony (Brockway's shovel sale), and White's confession. Defense attorneys argued coercion in the confession and insufficient evidence against the Greens, but the jury convicted all three of burglary and larceny. Sentencing was severe: Luther White received 10 years in the state prison at Concord; William and Charles Green each got 8 years. All served full terms, released in the late 1850s–early 1860s.

The case's bizarre elements—the meticulous tunnel contrasted with clumsy spending, the robbers' local ties, and the relatively small haul for such effort—made it a sensation. Newspapers dubbed it "America's Strangest Bank Robbery" for its amateur execution and rapid resolution. It highlighted early banking vulnerabilities: no alarms, weak vaults, and reliance on community trust.

The heist's legacy endures in New England true crime lore. It inspired local histories, newspaper retrospectives, and books on 19th-century crime. Charlestown's bank building (now private property) still stands, with the basement vault site occasionally noted on historical tours. The case is frequently cited in studies of early American criminal justice, illustrating the transition from community-based policing to more formal state systems.

In the broader context of New England mysteries—alongside the calculated greed of Salem's 1830 White murder, the vanishing of Judge Joseph F. Crater in New York, or the spectral omens of Connecticut's Black Dog—the Charlestown heist stands out for its almost comical incompetence amid serious stakes. It reminds us that even the boldest crimes can collapse under human folly.

So, was the 1850 Charlestown Bank Heist a bold masterstroke gone wrong, or a cautionary tale of greed and poor planning? Historical records affirm the latter—a rare instance where justice was swift, but the crime's oddity lingers. Visit Charlestown today; walk Main Street past the old bank building. The vault may be sealed, but the echoes of shovels in the dark still whisper.

Mike D. is a Connecticut-based writer who prefers to remain hidden—lest the robbers come knocking.