The New York Tombs Inside and Out! / Scenes and Reminiscences Coming Down to the Present. A Story Stranger Than Fiction, with an Historic Account of America's Most Famous Prison.

Almost every year, New York witnesses a noted criminal trial, which frequently becomes a sensation in the community. For weeks beforehand the newspapers give an excruciating account of all the horrors of the case—involving the past history of the defendant; nor do they fail to drag in his father, mother, uncles and aunts, besides his business relations. When the day of trial comes, if the defendant happens to be at the bar for murder or some other noted crime, all the sickening details are re-hashed in the evening and morning papers. Sometimes the trial lasts from one week to three months, dragging itself slowly along, till everybody in the city becomes disgusted. All this, of course, is distinctively American, and as the people call for it, they are sure to get it. The New York editors are great literary caterers, and seem to know how to satisfy such depraved tastes. It has come to be an admitted fact that a criminal trial in New York is a most exciting experience, and for a time stirs the community, making it the main topic of interest at meals, clubs and society gatherings.

To watch the selection of the jury, and see panel after panel of intelligent men excused on the flimsiest grounds, is enough to make the Goddess of Justice open her eyes and weep.

During the past twelve years we have witnessed some of the most tragic murder trials in the history of the New York Bar, in which money and brains were used on both sides. When Roland B. Molineux, Dr. Kennedy, Albert T. Patrick and Harry K. Thaw were placed on trial, the courts were thronged daily with gaping crowds of men and women, breaking their necks to get a look at the defendants, and using all sorts of “pulls” to secure a seat in the court.

And as the jury is called and examined one by one, to read their real character as depicted on their faces when they take their seats to decide the fate of some weakling, a good judge of human nature can readily discern the result of the trial long before it is finished. Then, listen to the testimony that is presented; hear the lawyers wrangle for and against the prisoner, and, finally, watch the judge as he charges the jury, and then see the prisoner as he stands at the bar for sentence or acquittal. All this becomes a fearfully interesting piece of realism.

But the glorious uncertainty of the law leaves so many loopholes for the real criminal to escape punishment, and the innocent to get a term of imprisonment, that some of the rulings made in our courts are tragic enough to make angels weep.

Some time ago, a rich murderer was tried in this city. His defence was one that no Court in the land recognizes, viz.: the unwritten law. During the trial, one medical expert said that the defendant suffered from “brain storms.” In a more recent murder trial, the only defence offered was “Confusional Insanity,” all of which is simply a foolish way of trying to “beat” the case.

We could name a dozen of well known characters whose crimes have been heralded all over the land, who were sent to the death house, but after a couple of years, when the Court of Appeals decided that they should have another trial on a mere technicality, returned to the Tombs, and after a few abortive efforts to convict them a second time, were liberated, as the important witnesses were dead, or could not be found. It is difficult to say wherein lies the trouble. But with our present elective system, we are apt to get some very poor material as Judges. They lack educational and experimental qualifications. Nor can we abolish the right of appeal because some judges make foolish rulings. With such judicial material on the bench, the right of appeal is our only safety valve, and must be retained.

There is a widespread feeling in our day that many trials are only a huge farce, and the “unwritten law,” “benefit of the doubt,” and “long-drawn-out hypothetical questions” in a large number of cases are allowed to defeat the ends of justice.

In regard to homicides, nothing would appeal to the good sense of the community after an atrocious murder has been committed more than to give the murderer a speedy trial and summary justice. It is all “humbug” to keep a murderer shut up in the Tombs from six months to a year before trying him. When he goes forth to trial, if the witnesses are not all dead, they have forgotten nearly all of what was once fresh in their memory. Let there be speedy trials and quick punishment for all kinds of crime. This will deter others from following the footsteps of evil doers. In murder cases it would be well also if capital punishment were abolished, and life imprisonment substituted.

In nearly all the advanced countries of Europe, in criminal trials, swift justice is the order of the day.

In Great Britain there are no long-drawn-out trials. Nor will the judges allow delays on mere technicalities. Each case is decided on its own merits.

As a rule, the presiding judge exercises full control over the case, and as a result everything is done with quickness and dispatch, and the higher courts uphold such rulings.

In speaking of the lax conditions of our courts, a recent writer says: “The machinery of our courts seems to be passing slowly and inevitably into disrepute. Processes wrought out by wise and noble-minded men for the protection of life and property and the dispensation of justice, have been seized upon again and again by unscrupulous pettifoggers, and every technicality of the entire legal procedure has been converted into a loophole through which some scalawag has escaped. The country swarms with unhung murderers, and with thieves who walk the streets at noon unmanacled, who ought to be wearing striped suits inside of prison walls. When murder trials drag their weary lengths through the disgusting weeks and months of the year, only to end at last in a new trial, or in a pardon issued by some sentimental fool who has reached the Governor’s chair, is it to be wondered at that hot-headed men lose respect for statutes and judges and begin to talk of taking the law into their own hands? It is high time that our judges and lawyers were awake, and took measures to reform the present processes of criminal jurisprudence so as to make the punishment of crime both swift and certain.”

It is a great mistake to shield rich criminals from their just desserts, as is sometimes done. Punishment should be meted out to all alike at all hazards, else it will have no terrors for the wrongdoer. Criminals must be impressed with the dignity and majesty of the law—no matter what is their social or commercial standing.

A few years ago, Roland B. Molineux had a hard battle for his liberty. He was always brave and optimistic, and believed all alone that in the end he would be vindicated. He must have spent about twenty months in the Tombs, and the same length of time in the death house awaiting the decision of the Court of Appeals. As I had always taken a deep interest in the young man, I called to see him in the death house. Here he manifested the same hopeful spirit he had shown all along. During his long confinement it looked sometimes as if fate was conspiring against him, but thanks to his gritty father, who stuck so nobly by him, and the matchless eloquence of Governor Black, the undisputed Demosthenes of the New York Bar, he was finally acquitted. In this trial, which was fairly conducted, Governor Black was master of the situation, and conquered. From this time, either in civil or criminal trials, the Governor was the peer of any lawyer in the land. It must also be said that there was another gentleman, who filled no inconspicuous part in the vindication of Molineux, and that was Judge Olcott, who was a peacemaker and diplomat of the highest order.

Greasing the Machinery of the Law

Frequently the prosecutor in a criminal court, under the cloak of having a duty to perform, proceeds to do it with the vengeance of a fiend, and the bias and prejudice of a persecutor, and perhaps with murder in his heart.

Nor are we without numerous instances where the prosecutor or some of his assistants have been known to “gear” the machinery of the law so as to convict some unfortunate of a crime of which there was absolutely no evidence, except what was manufactured for the occasion. In doing such work, the police can always be relied upon for a certain amount of help, which they never fail to give. Then there is in every community certain degenerates, including emotional and hysterical men and women, ready to swear to anything asked of them, and who spring into fame during a sensational trial, not to mention the professional juror who draws two dollars a day for sitting around the court house, who is largely dependent on the public prosecutor for his sinecure.

There are thousands of people who all their lives have been the victims of cruelty, oppression and malicious persecution, but real justice they have not known. There are innocent men in nearly all of our penal institutions, who have suffered because of false swearers. They may appeal to an Executive, even a righteous one, who has so many intolerable conscientious scruples on the question of pardoning crooks that the poor, friendless prisoner is allowed to rot in prison, so that the righteous Governor may make no mistake.

But the innocent have this consolation, that their case has been sent up to Heaven’s Court of Appeals, where in God’s good time a just verdict will be rendered in their favor.

But what a crime it is to send an unfortunate to the Electric Chair, or State Prison for life, or even a limited term in jail, on manufactured evidence or opinions of an alienist, or a handwriting expert, who are given large fees for their testimony! Handwriting experts have made so many mistakes in the past that it is absolutely impossible to believe them. They may think themselves famous as interpreters of dots, curves, right angles and horizontal lines, but they cannot positively tell whether John Doe or John Jones wrote the document, and human opinions are not evidence. It is certainly a miscarriage of justice to convict any man or woman on such absurd testimony. If you have plenty of money, you can prove anything you please by the use of such expert testimony, or disprove it. But without the most absolute corroboration, expert testimony is worthless.

Crooks at the Bar of Justice

The day of judgment for New York criminals usually falls on Friday. It not only brings many surprises, but hidden things long forgotten are brought to light. Between the day of a man’s conviction and the day when sentence is passed, the officers of the law have an opportunity to look up his record, and report him in the true light to the judge. When he comes to the bar for sentence, the court has his life mapped out on paper. As soon as the judge begins to question the prisoner, his character for truthfulness is put to the test. Crooks who are as a rule notorious liars have poor memories. No matter how cumulative their guilt is, they are always innocent!

It is interesting to watch the proceedings when some scamp has come up for sentence. A good deal of stage work is done in Court for the effect it has on those present. The female relatives are on hand, weeping like steam engines, while the prisoner at the bar, who has made many promises, is as hard as a stone. Some of the men up for sentence are salesmen, confidential clerks and secretaries, who, when they lose at the races, steal big sums from their employers, and then have their friends “pull social and political wires” to get them out of their troubles; while the poor mechanic or day laborer who steals eight or ten dollars to keep the wolf from the door, has not a friend in the world, and usually gets a “soaking” when he comes to the bar. Perhaps his wife or mother has been to see the judge at his home, where she has created a “scene,” but it has done no good; he has got to go to prison. Not long since, Judge Cowing, one of the best of the General Session judges (now retired), said to a young man who had been before him on two former occasions: “You have been in Elmira and Sing Sing, and here you are again. Where are you going to end up? Your mother came to my house last night. Poor woman, I felt

sorry for her; but you show no feeling whatever. What’s the matter with you? If I should grant the requests of friends for everyone who has a good mother, the people would soon ask me to retire from the bench altogether.” This is true. The judge must send the young prodigal to prison to deter others.

Here is what another judge said of a young man who stole $15,000 from an employer. The firm had only charged him with stealing a much smaller sum, but when they examined their books, they found it a small fortune. It was spent mostly on the races. His wife and three small children were in court, asking for clemency: “I have been on the bench,” said His Honor, “many years, and have had many a sad case, but there is none sadder than the one I am now called upon to dispose of. The great trouble in such cases is that you are compelled to inflict punishment upon people who do not deserve it—I mean the wives and children of men charged with crime.”

Noted Criminal Lawyers

One of the most noted criminal lawyers of the New York bar for thirty or forty years was the late William F. Howe, better known as “Bill” Howe. I have often heard him plead eloquently at the bar, and with great success. Howe was a typical advocate, and put his soul into his client’s defence. He was humorous, pathetic and magnetic before a jury. When he understood the case thoroughly he became a powerful pleader. It is said that he frequently was moved to tears by his own eloquence, and was always able to draw tears from the most unsympathetic jury. He was called by a certain District Attorney “The Weeping Bill Howe.”

A story is told of Howe’s tears in connection with a case in which he appeared for the defendant, before Recorder-Hackett. Mr. Howe had just succeeded by his eloquence, aided by his tears, in obtaining in rapid succession the acquittal of several men charged with homicide. The Recorder was somewhat disgruntled. Howe entered upon the defence of a woman charged with homicide. She was seated with her child on her knees. While Howe was pleading for her acquittal, he was seen to scowl at his client. She gazed at him in blank amazement. Howe moved up closer to her and the baby. Suddenly the baby began to cry. Howe wept as the baby’s screams suddenly ceased. Recorder Hackett looked up with a smile and remarked: “Mr. Howe, you had better give the baby another jab with a pin.”

Stories are told around the Criminal Courts Building of lawyers who received retainers from well known crooks in the shape of stolen jewelry. A lawyer who used to be a frequent visitor at the Tombs defended a crook in return for a diamond pin which he had received for his services. After he had convinced the jury that his client was innocent, he wore the stolen pin in his necktie.

John F. McIntyre is one of the best of our criminal lawyers. He always puts up a strong fight for his client. This is the one thing that appeals to a jury. An intelligent juror can easily tell if a lawyer is simply a “hired attorney” or a real advocate. Moore, who defended “Doc” Kennedy, is another of that kind. When a lawyer appeals to a jury as if he meant it, good results are sure to follow. Among a score of noted New York criminal lawyers might be mentioned Abraham Levy and James W. Osborne.

Strange Sentences

During many years of careful observation, I have seen some strange sentences. If you are poor and have a mean enemy, with the aid of the police, he can inflict great injury on you!

I knew the case of a young man, who found some worthless junk wire outside a factory, and was sent away for a year. In the next cell was a crook with a “record” who was aided by a cop, and a crooked lawyer. He stole a thousand dollars. His “bit” was only six months.

Another fellow who swindled several dry goods stores out of $17,000, was allowed to plead to petty larceny. He got off cheap—only six months.

Such travesties of justice have often been witnessed in New York. Indeed, men and women have been known to conspire with lawyers and others to send innocent persons to prison, and they have succeeded!

I knew well the case of John H. While he was in prison, his wife suddenly became the friend of a certain police official. After he had secured his liberty he was informed that he must keep away from his old home. Soon after he was arrested, charged with a crime of which he was entirely innocent. When he went to Part I, General Sessions, to plead, a legal pettifogger who was sent there by this man’s wife stepped up and informed him that he would take his case. He did so, and without consulting him entered a plea of guilty. He was then sentenced to six years’ imprisonment. He found out afterwards that it was a conspiracy to get him out of the way. It was a success.

I recall the case of an Italian who was charged with the murder of his wife. He was caught “red-handed,” and two of his children told the coroner that they saw him do the deed. John F. McIntyre ably represented the people, and Judge Fursman presided in the Criminal Branch of the Supreme Court. When the case came to trial, the Italian children had evidently been tipped off to forget all about it. As they had manifested entire ignorance and forgetfulness of the crime, and could not remember a word of what they told the police and the coroner, the murderer was allowed to go scot free!

We knew a man who stole $40,000, and yet received a suspended sentence. But this should be said, that the money was taken to save another man, and not himself, and the deficiency was made good. Perhaps it was only fair that the sentence be suspended. We know two young men who were in the Boys’ Prison at the same time. One stole $10,000, the other just one dollar. The lad that stole the ten thousand dollars had his friends make restitution, then the complainant recommended extreme leniency. In view of his former good character, the court gave him a suspended sentence. The boy who stole one dollar had been in prison and was out on parole. For this new crime he was sent to the House of Refuge.

There is the case of a young man named Sullivan, who stole a tray of valuable jewelry from a Columbus avenue house. A morning paper commented freely on the “pull” that gave the prisoner a suspended sentence. The owner of the store did not relish the thief getting off so easy. In speaking of the affair he said: “The next time a thief visits my place, I will make no effort to bring him to justice. What is the use, if he is let go after his guilt has been clearly established? The robbery was carefully planned, and was well carried out. The Court should have given the thief a medal. Why not?”

While chaplain, I was sent for by an unfortunate girl, an inmate of the Women’s Prison. She had the usual tale of disappointment and misplaced confidence to tell, which was full of sadness. Most girls, strangers in New York, and far from home, have usually a hard road to travel. After I heard her story, I remembered that there was a prominent lawyer in the city that came from the same place of which she was a native. The gentleman was an ex-Assistant District Attorney. I felt if I could only get him interested in the case, she would have a better chance of securing her liberty. I made a personal call on the gentleman. He had spacious offices in the vicinity of Wall Street. As soon as I had mentioned this young woman’s name, he at once recognized it. Indeed, he had been intimate with the family for years, and was willing to do anything for her. All of which was very encouraging. I then asked him to make a note of the date when she came up for sentence. At my suggestion he called one of the stenographers to make a memorandum. “Mary Ann,” said my legal friend, “make a note of this,” and looking very pious, he said, “I do this for the love of God; yes, I do this for the love of God.” By this time the clerks and typewriters began to snicker and laugh. Just as I had expected, all this pious talk did not amount to anything. The poor girl was finally sent away to one of our institutions.