Andrew's first education started in a country school not far from his father's farm and he graduated from Tecumseh High School. He later took a course in electrical engineering at the Michigan State College, East Lansing. While he was in college, he met Miss Nellie Price whom he later married. After leaving college, he went west and his people didn't know much about him for several years but they knew he worked in St. Louis, Missouri, as an electrician in a park.

     After some years, he came back and married Miss Nellie Price. Andrew and his wife were born and raised as Roman Catholics and they went to church until there was a new one built. He was assessed four hundred dollars which he made no effort to pay. After some time the priest went out to see why they didn't come to church or pay the assessment. Kehoe ordered him to the road and told him if he didn't get there, he would see that he got there. After that time, he never went to church and the neighbors said that he never allowed his wife to go.

     The original homestead of a hundred and eighty-five acres was later sold to Andrew. He never farmed it as other farmers do and he tried to do everything with his tractor. He was in the height of his glory when fixing machinery or tinkering. He was always trying new methods in his work, for instance, hitching two mowers behind his tractor. This method at different times did not work and he would just leave the hay standing. He also put four sections of drag and two rollers at once behind his tractor. He spent so much time tinkering that he didn't prosper. The neighbors told the writer that he was very severe with his stock, his horses especially.

     Andrew Kehoe's mother died when he was quite young, and in time, his father married again. Andrew didn't get along very well with his stepmother. One day she went to town and returned about meal time. She went to light her oil stove, but someone had tampered with it and it exploded, saturating her with oil, and set her on fire. Andrew stood and watched her burn for a while and then he got a pail of water and threw over her. It spread the flames and made them worse. His stepmother died from the effects. The fire was extinguished before it burned the house. Andrew was only about fourteen years of age at that time. Although there was never any trouble made about it, the neighbors whom the writer talked with were of the opinion that Andrew knew something about what was wrong with the stove.

     On another occasion, he bought eight steers from a man and when he got home he drove them in the clover pasture. The clover was wet and two of them bloated and died. He skinned them and sold the hides and went back to the man and told him that he ought to pay him half of what he lost on the steers. The man, of course, refused this. After that when he met him face to face on the street, he would not speak.

     Some years afterwards, Kehoe put his farm in the real estate man's hands to sell. This same man, seeing the advertisement, went to look at the farm before he went to the real estate office. When he stopped to ask Kehoe if the farm was for sale, Kehoe said, "Yes, but why in h--- didn't you come two weeks ago, before it was turned over to the real estate hands and I would have saved the commission." The man said, of course, that he didn't know anything about it. He asked Kehoe if he would show him the boundary line, which he did. The man walked alone over it and being satisfied with the place, he went to the real estate office and closed the deal. He gave Kehoe eight thousand dollars in cash, which was his equity.

     Kehoe came to Bath and bought the farm of the Price estate. The purchase price was twelve thousand dollars. He paid six thousand dollars in cash on the principal and he gave a six thousand dollar mortgage. When he got nearly ready to move, he went across the road to his neighbor and told him he had fifteen cords of wood to sell because he couldn't move it. When the neighbor told him he had all the wood he needed, Kehoe said he was going to sell all the wood for a dollar and a half a cord, which was about half price. He impressed it on his mind that he must not leave one stick as he didn't want the man who bought the farm to have anything that he hadn't bought. The man bought the wood.

     Before he moved to Bath, he sold his sheep and cattle. He only brought three horses and some very fine thoroughbred hogs. He had two car loads of farmn machinery. He went to see David Harte, who lives directly across the road from the Price farm, on Saturday and on Sunday a motor truck came through with Kehoe's furniture. His wife had come through to Lansing and was staying with her sisters. When the furniture arrived, he tried to call his wife. Not being able to get her over the telephone, he said he knew about where she was, insinuating that she was at church. David Harte helped him unload his implements and deliver them to the farm. This was in the spring of 1919. They were very neighborly during this year. At that time the Kehoes had no car so Mrs. Harte took Mrs. Kehoe to Lansing with her each week to shop and deliver their butter and eggs.

     Mrs. Harte had a little fox terrier dog of which she thought a great deal, but it had a habit of running out on the lawn and barking. It never went into the road. It came up missing in March, 1920, and they looked all over the farm for it, but they could not find it. She went over and asked Mr. Kehoe if he had seen anything of her dog. He said that it was burying a bone beside his road fence and he shot the d--- nuisance. The dog never went into Kehoe's yard, but it must have annoyed him by barking on the lawn. They didn't have any words over his killing the dog, but Mrs. Harte quit taking them to Lansing.

     Mr. Harte and Kehoe changed work in thrashing and neighbored back and forth to a certain extent. About three or four years later, Mr. Harte went over to borrow a spring seat for his wagon and Kehoe had the team on his manure spreader. One of his horses was his old light driving horse. The next day they saw a truck from the Pregulman's rendering works drive away from Kehoe's place with a horse. When David took the spring seat home, he said, "I see you had bad luck with your horse." Kehoe said, "Yes, d--- him, he ought to have been killed years ago. He didn't pull and we had a mix-up and when I got through with him he was dead." He generally used his tractor on the manure spreader.

     No matter how much Kehoe worked around machinery, he was never seen dirty or greasy. If he got greasy, he would go to the house and clean up. The last time he helped Mr. Harte thrash, he went across the road to his home at noon and washed and put on a clean shirt and then he went back for his dinner. The next year, 1926, he didn't have any grain to thrash. He always put his tools in their place when he got through with them. His barns were always clean. Several people have made the remark that his barns were cleaner than a great many houses. He farmed the same here as he did on his old homestead.

     In the spring of 1925, I bought from him what was the tenant house on the Kehoe farm. The day I bought it I asked him if it would be all right to pay fifty dollars down and two hundred dollars when I got ready to move the old house. Kehoe said, "NO, I am selling it because I want to use the money." I had to pay him all of it right then.

     The following fall, I had a steam boiler to install in my slaughter house. I asked Mr. Kehoe if he would come up and help me, which he did very readily. He ran the pipes to the scalding tanks and showed me all about the boiler. Being an old boiler, it needed some repairs and pipe fittings. He had part of these in his workshop. He said he was going to town the next day and would get the parts that he didn't have; this he did. Being no mechanic, I had some trouble from time to time with the boiler and I would always call Kehoe and he would come right up and fix it and would never take any money for his work.

     I put up a gas station in front of my house this spring. I was setting up an air compressor temporarily on Saturday so I could have it to use on Sunday. That was the Saturday before he blew the schoolhouse up on Wednesday. I needed a three-eighths union to connect the pipes so I went down to Kehoe's and told him what I wanted. He got them for me and when I told him that in a week or so, I was going to set it up permanently down cellar and pipe it out, he said, "When you get ready to do that, come down if you need any tools. Yes, and I will come up and help you."

     Kehoe had the Lansing and the Bath telephones. I only had the Bath telephone so when mine was out of order, I used theirs and I was always made welcome. I went down there to use their telephone last winter, about February, 1927, and he had just been shooting at the target. When I got through using the telephone, he showed me his new thirty Winchester bolt action rifle that he had bought two or three months before. I had had a general store and when I sold out, I kept one rifle. I told him that I had never shot it and I would bring it up and shoot with him when he was going to practice. He told me to come up anytime, but I didn't think anything about it again until spring on Thursday, May 12, 1927, he came along by my house and stopped where I was working out in front and we talked for quite a few minutes. During the conversation, he reminded me that I had not come down to shoot as I told him I would. I told him I had been busy but if he would bring his gun up to my place the next day we would shoot here. He said that he would do that and the next morning about eight-thirty o'clock, May 13, 1927, he brought along pasteboard targets which we nailed on a board and set up. We shot three times apiece from one hundred yards with a rest. We each put one in the bull's-eye and the others were very close, except I had one that was wild. Then we shot from fifty yards offhand. The first time we shot, the first three we were about even, then we changed guns and shot three times each and he beat me. Then we each took our own gun and shot twelve or fifteen times more and he beat me continually after that. He showed no signs of nervousness under the great strain that he must have been under. When he started to go home, I walked out to his machine with him and there was a box in the back about two feet long and twelve or fourteen inches wide which was about half full of rifle shells. I believe there must have been a thousand of them.

     I think it was in the spring of 1922 when he volunteered his service free of charge to the Farm Bureau on the follow-up drive for membership. In the fall of 1925, he hired Jobe T. Sleight, Jr., to take him to Jackson to see about dynamite for farm blasting. He bought and brought back five hundred pounds of pyrotol, telling them he would have some to sell to the neighbors if they wanted it. No one knew of him using any of it except on New Year's eve of 1927. There was a tremendous explosion at just twelve o'clock. Mr. Sleight did not hear the explosion but he was talking with some men a few days afterwards who were telling about the explosion and of course Mr. Sleight, knowing of his having this dynamite, thought it must have been him. When Mr. and Mrs. Sleight were returning from town one day, they stopped to see Mrs. Kehoe. She had just returned from the hospital where she had been nearly all winter. While they were there, Kehoe came in the house and during the conversation Mr. Sleight said, "What were you trying to do over here on New Year's Eve?" Kehoe told him he was just trying out a clock system. He said that he put the dynamite out in the garden and the clock down cellar and set it for twelve o'clock. It was the last time Mr. Sleight ever talked to Kehoe, as Mrs.Kehoe went back to the hospital. She was with her sisters when Kehoe went after her on Monday night just before the explosion on Wednesday. She was not seen again until they found her charred body back of the sheep barn a day after the tragedy. He must have murdered her as soon as he got home with her Monday night or before retiring Tuesday night. When she was found, there was evidence that she was dressed at the time she was placed in what was once a hog chute mounted on two wheels. The wood had all burned away and one foot was over the axle. There were corset stays laying around her, a box of silverware on one side, and an iron box containing between three and four hundred dollars in money on the other.

     He never attracted much attention around the neighborhood. There was something about him that no matter how good a friend you thought you were of him, there always seemed to be a distant feeling. He would give you a straight answer with no explanation. I was talking with Mr. Kehoe during farmers' week at the Michigan State College, East Lansing, in February, 1926. While I was talking with him I asked him if he was going over to the college. He said, "No, they would just tell the farmers a lot of things that were impossible to do." He said, "last night I was listening over my radio to a speaker who started in by telling what colleges he had been to and what countries he had been in. I shut that off and went to the telephone and called the college and asked them what in h--- they wanted of a speaker who would just get up and brag about himself. That's the last time I am going to listen to them this week." I was talking with Kehoe early this spring, in 1927. The snow was off the ground and it was freezing nights and thawing day times. I said, "This is not very good wheat weather." He said, "No, and I am glad of it. The farmers ought not to raise any more wheat until the country needed it badly. The d--- fool farmers will never be any better off than they are now because if they do raise anything they will brag about it to everyone else." He also said that it would be like the d--- fool up in northern Michigan that raised an extra big crop of potatoes last year and then came down to the college at East Lansing during farmers' week and told the world how he done it, so everybody would know as much about it as he did.