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.

As is well known, the Police Court is the sorting Criminal Bureau of the city, where the murderer, highwayman, thief and burglar come to be classified. It is here that the criminal is confronted with the visible forms of law, and where the evidences of his guilt become so convincing as to be conclusive. All over the five Boroughs of Greater New York, the Magistrates sit in rotation in the various courts.

Every morning the police gather their prisoners into the court “pens,” where the Magistrate presides. After this, the prisoner is placed at the bar, where he is compelled to answer the question whether he is guilty or not guilty? In all of these courts, the wheels of justice move swiftly against wrongdoers, and frequently so fast that the innocent has a chance of being locked up for several days, without redress.

No one can be a spectator of what transpires in these petty courts during a morning session, without being deeply impressed, not only with the character of the business done, but the variety of the persons that come before the court. That the proceedings are genuinely realistic goes without saying. The work done in the Tombs Police Court may be taken as a fair example of what is done elsewhere, although it usually does twice as much business as is done in any other court in Greater New York.

The Magistrate’s Courts are supposed to be open for business as early as nine a. m. and continue in session till four p. m. Sundays and holidays are excepted, when there is only a morning session. Through the earnest work of Judge Whitman, a Night Court has been established in Manhattan, for the purpose of putting the professional bondsman out of business!

Lawyers are not necessary on either side in the Police Court, as the dignity of His Honor can be maintained and the interests of both sides conserved without a paid attorney. In some courts, a big crook with a crowd of ward politicians around him, has a splendid chance of getting clear, while the innocent moneyless unfortunate gets scarcely any consideration.

Powerful moneyed interests and political gamblers when brought to court and backed by an array of counsel known to the judge are sure to get some consideration. But this is what might be expected, and often strange things take place in the Police Court.

The political “pull” has always been a power when exercised either by a Tammany judge or a “reformer,” as the supporters of both classes do their best to help their friends and spite their enemies! A few years ago I succeeded in closing a notorious gin mill in the lower part of the city, but not till I laid the matter before the Police Commissioner. Finally the law breaker was arrested and taken to the Tombs Court, where he pleaded not guilty. After a brief examination, the Tammany Magistrate discharged him, when he learned that the police went to the saloon on Sunday morning, and were admitted as sailors, with oilskins over their heads. Both Commissioners McAdoo and Bingham have criticised the Magistrates for discharging guilty crooks who ought to have been sent to prison.

Not a great while ago, a religious editor went to a reform Magistrate whom he had known in connection with charity work, and secured the discharge of an old crook that ought to have been sent to Sing Sing. The preacher told me afterwards that the work had to be done not in open court, but in the inner sanctum. If the reporters knew what had taken place, said this man, both of us would have been “roasted.” Investigator Mitchell has been able to unearth many things that would not stand the light of day. But they are done with the best intentions.

Here is a sample of Police Court realism:

“Patrick McShane,” said the Magistrate to a Hibernian defendant; “Patrick, what have you to say for yourself?” “I was not drunk, Your Honor,” said Paddy; “I was only sick.” “Loan the city two dollars, and go in peace,” said the Magistrate.

“Mickey Maguire, what have you to say for yourself?” “The officer found you trying to converse with a lamp post at one a. m. What was the matter with you?” Mickey replied, “Well, Your Honor, I am a fireman on the City of Rome and me ship goes out to-morrow.” “Discharged,” said the Judge. But Maguire was an old time liar. He had only been liberated from the Tombs the day before by the help of a missionary, who put him on a Pennsylvania ferry boat with the intention of going to see a “fake” brother-in-law in Trenton, N. J., but Maguire returned the same night and became helplessly drunk on West Street and was then “run in” by a cop. Keeper John Smith was in court at the time and saw the whole transaction and almost fell over in a faint when he heard Maguire tell so many lies to gain his liberty.

The common drunk and disorderly cases are frequently disposed of with lightning rapidity in most of police courts. Sometimes fifty and even seventy-five cases come before the Magistrate at a morning sitting, besides a dozen of felony cases that must receive a large amount of attention before he is able to arrive at the truth and decide whether he can send the prisoner to the grand jury or discharge him.

There is a woman with a child in her arms who charges her husband with non-support. Both use strong drink and are to blame for making the home a pandemonium. The magistrate tries to have them go home and stop drinking, for if the husband is sent to prison, what will become of the children? They return home to do better.

Here is a boy, sixteen years old, charged with stealing two pounds of old lead, worth about seven cents. The magistrate tries to settle the case with honor to both parties. The complainant refuses. He insists on “Shylock” justice. Finally the lad is sent to the Boys’ Prison in the Tombs. Poor boy, his career is blasted for two pounds of old lead, all because the hard hearted complainant shows no mercy!

Frequently there are lined up in the magistrate’s court thirty to forty bleared-eyed, disheveled hair, filthy, tipsy men and women, the offscourings of the city—made so by the city gin mill! I have often asked why the wise sages that run our Legislature do not put the whiskey and beer shops out of business, which would end most of the wretched scenes found in our police courts.

A frequent matter of injustice in our police courts is the treatment accorded the Italian, Greek and Jewish peddlers and push cart men. Although they are licensed by the city and compelled to carry a badge, hardly a day goes by without a score of them being hauled to court on the most flimsy charge. Indeed, every obstacle is put in their way to prevent them from earning an honest dollar. The city ordinance prevents them from standing more than ten minutes in one place. Often they are arrested before they are five minutes in a place. If you stand around Park Row you can see a dozen of these men picked up daily, while the notorious pool rooms and gambling hells of the city are in full blast.

Intoxication and disorderly conduct cases receive the least consideration. And then everything depends on what the policeman says against the defendant, but the presumption is that he is guilty. What we object to is that the magistrate allows the officer to whisper something into his ear, that the defendant knows nothing whatever about and is not related to the case, but that thing is usually the basis of the sentence. I hope that the day will come when the officer that makes the arrest will place the rum-seller at the bar with the “drunk” and make him responsible for the “output” of his own saloon. Indeed, whenever a policeman finds a “drunk” within a hundred feet of a saloon, it should be his duty to arrest the saloon-keeper who sold the liquor. Why not? As the officer on post gets all his “drinks” free at the saloon, which is only bribery in a mild form, it would be manifestly improper for him to give any other testimony in the proceedings other than favorable to the rum-seller, and this makes his relation to the case nothing short of a scandal! Almost every day some persons are robbed and flim-flammed in scores of city saloons. If they offer any protest or even ask for the return of their money they are forthwith “fired” to the street. Sometimes the victim is beaten into insensibility and left bleeding on the sidewalk. Soon a policeman comes along. He arrests the victim and makes a charge of intoxication or disorderly conduct against him. But, strange to say, nothing is done to the saloon-keeper and his assassins. The bloated gin-mill keeper is allowed to continue his business unmolested, and he waits for more victims. Good hearted people, and even ministers of the gospel, waste a lot of “gush” on the poor, persecuted saloon keeper, all of which is entirely uncalled for.

Strong drink is the cause of more than two-thirds of all the business transacted in the police courts. If we could only do away with this curse there would be little work left for the magistrates.

Some of our magistrates show wretched judgment in handling the “down and out” unfortunates that frequent the police courts. Indeed, several sages of the “reform brand” act strange in dealing with beginners as well as habituals. With one or two magistrates almost every victim is sure of six months on the island and there is little or no discrimination. If this is what New York’s famous District Attorney had in mind when he said: “To h—— with reform,” it seems to me he was justified in using the expression. It is nothing short of a parody on justice to send a poor laboring man or mechanic, the victim of the ubiquitous gin-mill, to prison for six months for simple intoxication. For, as a rule, while he is in prison, getting three square meals a day such as they are, his wife and children are starving to death by slow process at home.

Judge Rosalsky recently discharged two men in General Sessions and scored the magistrate for such a foolish sentence. There are, however, honorable exceptions. Some of our magistrates are very humane and show excellent judgment in dealing with such persons. It seems to me that several Tammany magistrates who have come up from the common people and live in touch with them, show remarkable good sense in dealing with the “drunk and disorderly” cases that come before them.

It seems to me that Magistrates Finn and Breen, and for that matter several others, show good sense in dealing with unfortunates. Instead of sending every man “up” for six months, as some reform judges do, they fine them a dollar and after they are sobered, let them go. To stay a night in the stifling cell of a station house is punishment enough for any man. Such magistrates are certainly merciful, and do much to help the man fallen by the way!

One other magistrate who seems to possess the judicial mind, always careful, painstaking and just toward the unfortunate, is Judge Mayo, when he was a City Magistrate. He is now a Special Session Judge, and as I watched the proceedings in the Children’s Court, some time ago, where he presided, I saw that he still holds his good qualities!

Another gentleman for whom I always entertained the highest regard was Magistrate Poole. I liked him for his open and sterling qualities and often wished that more of his kind might adorn the magistrate’s bench. I never knew him to turn down a genuine case of mercy in the hour of need.