From unsuccessful moonshiner to a Texas First

Ever know somebody whose life was a series of bad breaks…someone who managed to get close but never quite succeed, that person who always chose the shortest straw or picked the black bean? That was Pete Welk.

You’ve probably never heard of him, nor read about him in Texas history.

John Sidney (“Pete”) Welk was born in 1893 in Sachse, near Dallas, the son of German immigrant Nicholas Welk and his wife, Cynthia Richards. By 1900, the Welk’s were barely eking out a living as tenant farmers somewhere in Rowlett.  

Pete Welk’s bad luck began when he was arrested in January 1921, along with two friends, for operating a 60-gallon moonshine still on Rowlett Creek. Prohibition was in full swing in Texas.

On 21 December 1922, Pete and friends were surprised at their still in the woods by sheriff’s deputies Hilliard Brite and Tom Wood. A shoot-out ensued and Wood was fatally shot. Welk and his partners were jailed in Dallas. Deputy Wood’s funeral was attended by most Dallas County officials and a large contingency of the Ku Klux Klan.

On 26 September 1923, Pete Welk and another prisoner named Gaines attempted an escape by overpowering Deputy W. G. Champion. Champion and Gaines were killed in the ensuing firefight and Welk was shot, but recovered. The person who smuggled the weapons to Welk and Gaines was never identified but it was rumored a deputy had been bribed with $1,000. 

Before he could appeal his 40-year sentence for the killing at the still, Welk was tried for the murder of Deputy Champion. He was convicted and sentenced to the electric chair.

The new electric chair in Huntsville -- Old Sparky -- was already in use. It was used for the first time in February 8, 1924, when five inmates were electrocuted.

On the day before his execution on April 3, 1925, Welk was visited by the Dallas County Sheriff Schuyler Marshall, who hoped to persuade him to reveal who supplied the gun used in his escape attempt. 

Welk asked the sheriff to deliver to his wife, Willie, his parting request that she not remarry until the children were grown, but offered nothing else. Said to be “inordinately proud” of his long, wavy black hair, Welk requested his head not be shaved until right before his execution.

As the prisoner was led to the execution chamber, he asked to say goodbye to Lavannie Twitty, a black man also on death row. He shook Twitty’s hand through the bars and wished him better luck than he himself had had. 

Once Welk was seated in the electric chair, the sheriff again asked him to reveal the source of the smuggled weapon, but Welk replied he could not. The metal cap was placed on his head, he was blindfolded and attendants strapped him down.

At 12:15 a.m., Friday, 3 April 1925, Warden N. L. Speer threw the switch. After three electrical jolts, the 32-year-old Welk was pronounced dead – he was the first white man executed in the Texas electric chair.

Initially, his funeral was planned for the Rowlett Christian Church, but later, plans were changed to a graveside funeral at the Big A Cemetery northeast of Rowlett. 

The Dallas Ku Klux Klan auxiliary brought funeral clothing and groceries for the Welk family, and two wash tubs were placed at the cemetery’s entrance for visitors to drop in donations for the destitute Willie Welk and her kids. Like a ballyhoo man at a circus, someone chanted: “Don’t forget the bucket, boys.” 

Around $800 was donated. 

Local vendors sold sodas and hot dogs and families picnicked on the cemetery grounds. An estimated 6,000 cars were parked within a mile and a half of the cemetery. 

The Whitewright Sun reported the event in its April 9, 1925, edition:

“Thousands Attend Pete Welk’s Funeral”

The news story lead was, “April 5, 1925—More like a hero slain in battle than a man executed for murder of an officer, Sidney W. “Pete” Welk, who was electrocuted Friday morning for the slaying of Willis Champion, Dallas County jailer, was buried here today.”

Almost 10,000 persons, most of whom were not mourners but morbidly curious, crowded the little cemetery in a Sabbath carnival. To satisfy the curiosity of the thousands, following the brief funeral services, the casket was opened at the cemetery gate and long lines of spectators filed past on either side. 

For almost two hours, Pete Welk lay in his casket, the sun accentuating the scars left on his forehead by the electric chair irons. While the huge throng passed by his body, it was necessary for attendants to hasten those who lingered for an extended look. 

Among mourners there was a sense of awe as they struggled to grasp how the State of Texas could take a man’s life, resenting a law which permitted killing their neighbor.   

Welk’s body had arrived from the penitentiary in an inmate-crafted pine box. Cecil Williams -- a Garland undertaker who had donated his services -- placed Welk’s body in a fine, plush-lined casket, which he also donated. 

Rev. M. O. Ewing of the Garland Christian Church spoke of the importance of a fund for the support and training of the Welk children. He touched on lessons taught by the Great Teacher and closed with a few words requested by Mrs. Welk. ‘His faithful wife tells me his wish was that it might be said that he laid the cause of his untimely and disastrous end at the door of sin. He felt, as other men have felt, that sin had not been fair with him; that it laid a heavier toll and collected more wages than was its due. Sin never is fair.’

Welk’s family remained in an old sedan near the grave until the burial -- Mrs. Welk, her father and mother and her five children.

aThe last Texas electrocution occurred July 30, 1964, bringing the total to 361 electrocuted inmates between 1924-1964. 

Since 1819, it is estimated 1,323 prisoners have been executed in Texas.