Wife killer Ralph Hudson is the last man to be executed in New Jersey

Skinny drunk Hudson thrown in jail for beating his new wife Myrtle. He was released after serving two-thirds of six-month sentence, he stabbed her to death in a crowded restaurant.

By David J. Krajicek / New York Daily News

Saturday, December 22, 2012

A jailer jangled keys like Santa Claus’ bells as he delivered a gift to Ralph Hudson on Christmas Eve 1960: early release from the Atlantic City cooler.

He had finished two-thirds of a six-month sentence for beating his estranged wife, Myrtle.

Hudson, 41, probably needed help more than he needed a holiday mercy release.

He had had a good union job at the Camden shipyards until booze got the best of him. In 1957, he left a wife and three kids in Pottstown, Pa., and was drawn like a moth to the neon bar signs on the Boardwalk of America’s Playground.

He had racked up seven arrests for being drunk and disorderly, but he got an early slide from jail because A.C. authorities considered Hudson — as skinny as a mop handle — a harmless barfly.

Unless you happened to be his wife.

Hudson met Myrtle, a pretty waitress who was a few years older, while he was working as a dishwasher at Capt. Starn’s seafood restaurant, a landmark on the beach at the Absecon Inlet. They were married in August 1959 after a fling.

He proved to be abusive when he was drinking, which was most of the time.

Still a newlywed, Myrtle sought shelter with friends in nearby Brigantine. For months, Hudson stalked her, and the friends convinced Myrtle to prosecute after he beat her one summer day in 1960.

On Aug. 30 a judge ordered Hudson locked up for six months. He bided his time.

When his cell door creaked open on Dec. 24, Hudson returned to what came naturally: bar hopping. He went on a staggering tavern crawl, beginning on Christmas Eve and continuing for three days.

On the afternoon of Dec. 27, Hudson stopped at a five-and-dime and bought a cheap serrated knife, then paid a visit to Capt. Starn’s, where he knew Myrtle was working.

For two decades, Starn’s had been the last stop on the inlet end of the Boardwalk. The huge beachside complex had seating for 750, a fleet of 13 boats, a seaplane, and a saltwater pen filled with dolphins and seals.

Hudson arrived during the lull between lunch and dinner. Myrtle was at a table, gabbing with other waitresses. They scattered when Hudson flashed the knife and cornered Myrtle.

“Nobody is going to double-cross a Hudson,” he growled. “I’m going to mark up your pretty face.”

There was no doubt Hudson was the killer. But 1960 was an interesting year for the homicidally inclined.

Enthusiasm for capital punishment was waning in many states, including New Jersey, which had recorded just three executions since 1956. Nationwide, executions declined from 127 in 1945 to 80 in 1955, to just 43 by 1961.

The New Jersey legislature was conducting a study of capital punishment, an increasingly contentious political issue.

Prosecutors offered Hudson a plea deal to life in prison. Defense attorneys begged him to take it. But Hudson waved off the idea.

“He wanted to die,” attorney Roy Baylinson later said. “He would rather be put to death than spend any length of time in prison.”

At trial, Baylinson put Hudson on the witness stand, hoping for the jury’s sympathy.

But Hudson shrugged and said, “Yeah, I did it.”

The jury convicted him, dismissing the argument that Hudson was not responsible by reason of his bender.

At sentencing on Dec. 4, 1961, Judge George Naame asked Hudson if he had anything to say.

“I loved my wife more than life itself,” Hudson said. “I worshiped the ground she walked on.”

Remorse might have been more effective than an ode to the woman he had murdered.

Naame condemned Hudson to follow his beloved Myrtle to the grave.

Hudson showed little interest in helping while attorneys pressed appeals to save his life. He wrote chipper farewell notes to friends from Trenton State Prison as his days waned.

A warden told reporters, “His attitude seemed to be, ‘Let’s get it over with.’”

On Jan. 22, 1963, Hudson dined on a last supper of prime rib, polished off with ice cream and a fat cigar.

He gripped the hand of a Methodist preacher and was led to the death chamber.

He was secured in the electric chair, and a deadly current coursed through his body at just after 10 p.m. If he had any final words, no one noted them.

Hudson was buried beneath an economical tombstone (marked with a number, not a name) in the no-frills state prison cemetery in Hamilton, N.J.

His execution 50 years ago proved to be the last of 361 carried out by the state of New Jersey. New Jersey enacted a new death penalty in 1982, after the federal moratorium ended, but it was never used.

After another legislative study, capital punishment was again abolished in 2007, and the 10 prisoners on Death Row had their sentences commuted to live without parole.