The 1933 Axe Murder of Irby “Bud” Stubbs Near Bluff Springs
By Michael Earl Simmons
The pine woods of northern Escambia County are a pleasure to drive through, and even more picturesque to walk among. The tall, long-leaf pines and the satisfying aroma of pine seem to enhance the beauty.
But, while the pines are charming, they also have always carried stories…some more sinister than others. Some are stories of sawmills, turpentine camps, church revivals, and hard-working farm families trying to survive in the Deep South. But others… are darker. They are mostly forgotten, but tend to linger in old newspaper clippings, courthouse records, and fading memories passed quietly from one generation to another. But if you can get the old folks to talk about them, you will discover that they never forgot…they remember.
One of those stories unfolded during the spring of 1933, somewhere in the woods between Bluff Springs and McDavid, Florida. Now, understand that “between Bluff Springs and McDavid” is a mouthful. Sure, on a map, they are only about five miles apart, but that five miles is thick, swampy land that most people never want to traverse. In 1933, there was a small road – now US Highway 29 – on which hundreds of people pass by every day, not knowing about the dark history. That history began with a lonely old man living in a small shack in the pine woods…and it ended with an axe.
The Old Recluse of Bluff Springs
Irby K. “Bud” Stubbs was born on May 20, 1879. He was described by newspapers as an “aged recluse.” Actually, he was only 50 years old, but he was a veteran of World War I, and some reports said that he had only one arm…maybe from his service in the war. He lived alone in a small cabin near Bluff Springs, north of Pensacola near the Alabama line. In those days, the region was isolated and rural. Dirt roads wound through thick stands of pine timber, and neighbors could live miles apart.
Life during the Great Depression was already hard enough. Money was scarce, and jobs were scarce. Sometimes hope itself felt scarce. If it wasn’t for those faraway neighbors who checked on each other, hope might have been non-existent.
Bud kept mostly to himself. He kept a small farm, but his missing arm handicapped him from anything more. But he was able to get along – even if it meant barely. His survival was up to him. He had to provide for himself. But that was the culture of those in the rural South in the early 1900s. They never expected – or wanted – anyone else to do for them. They would do for themselves…fiercely independent.
He did have loved ones, however. He had several relatives that all lived within twenty miles of him – some within a mile, and his neighbors kept a close eye out for him. All in all, Bud seemed satisfied with the simple life he scratched out.
Some of his relatives were furious when he told them that his house had been broken into and money stolen. He knew who had done it – Cam Fillingim and Hugh Gilmore. But Bud didn’t want to report it. So his relatives did. Sheriff Hamp Gandy had a crime and some suspects – something to go on. Good news…maybe.
Country people are hard workers…always have been. In the 1930s, their clock was called the sun. They woke up at sunup – with the chickens, and went to bed at sundown – with the chickens. They called it “Can see to Can’t see.” That was what made an honest day’s work. That’s how Bud was. His neighbors knew his schedule. When they passed his house every day, he was up early and working in the field – always. Like clockwork.
A Grisly Discovery
The first thing that Bud did after dressing every morning was go to his relatives’ house for breakfast. Country people know they have a hard day’s work ahead of them, so they eat a hearty breakfast. It usually consisted of fried eggs, grits, bacon, biscuits & gravy, and hot coffee…lots of hot coffee.
On the morning of April 26, 1933, relatives became concerned when Bud failed to appear for breakfast as usual. When they went to check on him, they discovered a horrifying scene. The old man had been murdered in his bed.
But “murdered in his bed” didn’t begin to tell the story. He had been struck in the head numerous times, it looked like in his sleep. His skull had been crushed with an axe. Someone had waited until the old man was asleep and defenseless, and attacked him with probably the most severe weapon they could have chosen. Again and again they buried the brutal instrument into his skull.
Even today, axe murders hold a particular kind of horror. Unlike a shooting from a distance, an axe killing is intimate, violent, and deeply personal. In rural communities of the 1930s, axes were common household tools found in nearly every shed and woodpile. That familiarity somehow made the crime even more terrifying.
Sheriff H. E. Gandy launched an investigation, assisted by County Solicitor Richard H. Merritt and State Attorney E. Dixie Beggs, Jr., and before long, suspicion focused on four individuals. It wasn’t hard. It was the same four that had committed the burglary earlier: Cameron “Cam” Fillingim and Hugh Gilmore. With them were two girls: Georgia Ryles Yaden and Jimmie Mills.
As soon as the arrest warrants were drawn up and signed, Sheriff Gandy made the rounds to each household and took the suspects into custody, then made the long trip back to the county jail. The arrests sent shockwaves through the rural communities of North Escambia County. It wasn’t so much that the communities were surprised – the kids were anything but angels. But, within a few days, a burglary had occurred, suspects had been identified, one of their own was killed in a horrific manner, and the same four suspects were arrested – a lot to digest for a small community.
Confessions and Accusations
As investigators dug deeper into the case, newspapers reported dramatic developments. Authorities announced that Georgia Ryles Yaden and Jimmie Mills had confessed to participating in events surrounding the killing. According to their statements, they accompanied Fillingim and Gilmore to Stubbs’ cabin late at night.
The women claimed the men entered the home while they remained outside. Then came the blows. The women later testified that Fillingim carried the axe and that Bud was struck while lying in bed.
Investigators believed the motive was revenge. According to prosecutors, When asked who he thought had burgled his home, Bud accused Fillingim and Gilmore, and the murder was committed to prevent him from testifying in court. The crime instantly became one of the most talked-about murder cases in Escambia County.
Fear in the Pine Woods
Modern audiences sometimes forget how isolated these rural communities once were. At night, Bluff Springs and McDavid disappeared into darkness. There were no streetlights stretching through the woods. No cell phones. No nearby deputies waiting minutes away. If violence came down a sandy road after midnight, help could be very far away, which is partly where the culture of “I’ll handle it myself” came from. And once news spread that an old man had been hacked to death with an axe while sleeping in his own bed, fear settled heavily over the countryside.
Families who had never done so began locking their doors. Shotguns were always handy but now rested closer beside their beds. Strangers were watched more carefully. Questions such as “Y’all ain’t from around here, are ya?” became more common. In communities like Bluff Springs, when a murder occurred, it wasn’t distant entertainment like what happened in newspapers from Chicago or New York. It was personal. They felt it.
The Trial
By July 1933, Cam Fillingim and Hugh Gilmore stood trial for first-degree murder in Escambia County circuit court before Judge L. L. Fabisinski. It was a good 40+ miles from McDavid and took about two hours to get there, but the courtroom filled with spectators…most from the north part of the county.
Witnesses packed the stand. Newspapers described dramatic testimony from both the prosecution and defense. Prosecutors argued that the killing was a revenge slaying carried out to silence Bud before he could testify in the breaking-and-entering case.
Georgia Ryles Yaden and Jimmie Mills became the state’s principal witnesses. But the defense attacked their credibility and argued that the two women were unreliable witnesses attempting to save themselves.
They say that the good thing about living in a small community such as McDavid was you know everybody. The bad part is you know everybody. Had the jurors heard about the murder? Of course they had. Did any of them know anybody associated with the crime? Of course they did. The trial revealed the rough realities of Depression-era justice in the rural South. Everybody seemed to know everybody else. Rumors mixed with testimony. Reputation often mattered as much as evidence.
Still, after deliberating only forty-five minutes, the jury returned its verdict. Guilty. Both Fillingim and Gilmore were convicted of murdering Irby “Bud” Stubbs. The jury recommended mercy, sparing them from execution and resulting instead in life sentences.
A Strange Twist
But the story did not end there. Months later, newspaper headlines revealed a shocking development. The women whose testimony helped convict the men reportedly recanted portions of their statements. Affidavits were filed claiming false testimony had been given during the prosecution.
Eventually, both Fillingim and Gilmore received pardons after serving only about sixteen months in prison. Years later, Cam Fillingim publicly insisted the entire case had been built upon false testimony.
In a later newspaper interview, he described himself as a World War I veteran, a trained draftsman, and a man trying to rebuild his life after prison and illness. He claimed the killing occurred after he and Gilmore visited Bud’s cabin seeking illegal whiskey and discovered him already dead.
Was that account true? We will never know. Like many Southern murder cases from the early twentieth century, the full truth likely disappeared into the pine woods long ago. Was justice carried out? Well, that probably depends on your definition of justice…
The Echoes That Remain
Today, travelers speeding north along Highway 29 through McDavid and Bluff Springs rarely realize the violence that once unfolded there. But the story of Irby “Bud” Stubbs still lingers beneath the surface of those quiet communities. It survives in old newspaper headlines, in courthouse records, and in fading family memories.
What lingers is the uncomfortable reminder that some of the darkest crimes in Southern history happened far away from big cities — in lonely cabins, hidden beneath tall pines, where justice traveled slowly down sandy roads.
In the South, old murder stories never completely disappear. Sometimes they wait quietly in the woods.
Sweet Tea Murders
Sweet Tea Murders explores the true crimes, forgotten murders, and dark history of Pensacola, the Gulf Coast, and the American South. Hosted by retired homicide detective and Southern crime historian Michael Earl Simmons. Where the tea is sweet… but the stories aren’t.
