I think shootin’ would be better’n this way. That’s the way they kill
steers down to the stock-yards and I don’t believe the Humane Society
would let ‘em hang ‘em up by the neck. I should think ‘twould be better
to take some cell that’s air-tight and put ‘em to bed in there and then
turn on the gas. But I s’pose any way would seem bad enough. Did you
ever stop to think how you’d like to die? I guess nobody could pick any
way that they wanted to go, and mebbe we’d all rather take chances; but
I don’t believe anybody’d pick hangin’. It seems to me the very worst
way anybody could die. I wonder how they commenced it in the first
place. Well, I can’t help it by thinkin’ it over. I’ve done that often
enough already, goodness knows. I believe I’ll ask the guard for another
drink before I tell any more.”
The guard came at the first call.
“Sure, you can have all the whiskey you want. I was just down to the
office a little while ago. Take this bottle. I think it’s pretty smooth,
but it’s a little weak. Guess the clerk poured some water in, thinkin’
it was goin’ to the ladies’ ward. You’d better take a pretty big drink
to do you any good.”
Jim thanked him as he took the bottle, and then inquired:
“Did you go down to the telephone again to see whether there had
anything come over to the telegraph office?”
“No—I didn’t,” the guard answered, “but I’ll go back pretty soon. They
keep open all night. It’s early yet, anyhow.”
Jim offered the bottle to his friend. Hank took a good drink, which he
needed after the excitement of the night. Then he passed the bottle back
to Jim.
“If I was you I’d drink all that’s left; it’s good, but it’s pretty
weak, all right. I’m sure you’d feel better to take it all.”
Jim raised it to his lips, tipped his head back and held the bottle
almost straight until the last drop had run slowly down his throat.
IX
Jim laid the bottle on the bed and then sat down on his chair.
“My head begins to swim some but I guess I can finish the story all
right. I know I’m pretty longwinded. Still I guess I can’t talk very
much more if I wanted to. I’m glad the whiskey’s beginnin’ to get in its
work; I don’t believe I’ll have much trouble gettin’ so drunk that I
won’t know whether I’m goin’ to a hangin’ or a primary.
“Let me see; oh, yes, they hustled me into a cell and locked me up. I
guess they thought best not to waste much time, for a good many people
had got together on the outside.
“I think ‘twas on Friday they put me in. There wa’n’t nothin’ done on
Saturday; but on Sunday they let us all go to church up in the chapel.
They kep’ me pretty well guarded as if I might do somethin’ in the
church, but there wa’n’t no way to get out if I wanted to. The preacher
told us about the prodigal son, and how he repented of all his
wanderin’s and sins and come back home, and how glad his father was to
see him, and how he treated him better’n any of the rest that hadn’t
never done wrong. He said that’s the way our Heavenly Father would feel
about us, if we repented, and that it didn’t matter what we’d done—after
we repented we was white as snow. One of the prisoners told me he was
gettin’ kind of tired of the prodigal son; that ‘most every preacher
that come told about the prodigal son just as if that story had been
meant specially for them.
“Some of the prisoners seemed to like to go to church; some acted as if
they understood all about it, and wanted to do better, and some of ‘em
seemed to go so as to get out of their cells. Anyhow I s’pose the people
that run the jail thought ‘twas a good thing and believed it was all so.
But I know one feller that killed a man—he was kind of half-witted—and
was tried the same as the rest of us when they had that crusade against
crime. Of course they sentenced him to death. He got religion and used
to pray all the time, and used to talk religion to all the rest of the
fellers, and ever’one said that he was really sorry and was fully
converted and was as pure as a little child. But they took him out and
hung him anyway. It don’t quite seem as if they believed what the
preacher said themselves, or they wouldn’t hang a feller when he’s
turned right, and when God was goin’ to treat him like all the rest
after he gets to heaven.
“When I went back to my cell, I begun thinkin’ about what I’d do. Of
course I knew you can’t get any show without a lawyer, and I knew that I
might just as well not have any as to have one that wa’n’t smart. I
didn’t know any lawyer except the one that charged me ten dollars for
nothin’, and of course I wouldn’t have him. But one of the guards was
kind of nice and friendly to me and I thought I’d ask him. He told me
that gettin’ a lawyer was a pretty hard matter. Of course, my case was a
celebrated one, and would advertise a lawyer, but the best ones didn’t
need no advertisin’ and the others wa’n’t no good. He told me that
Groves was the best fighter, but it wa’n’t no use to try to get him for
he’d got more’n he could do, and most of his time was took up
prosecutin’ people for stealin’ coal from the railroads, except once in
a while when some rich banker or politician got into trouble. Then he
took a good slice of what he’d got saved up. I asked him ‘bout some
others and he told me the same story of all the rest that amounted to
anything. I told him I hadn’t got no money, and I thought the horse and
wagon and furniture was took on the chattel-mortgage before this, and he
said he s’posed the court would have to appoint someone and I might just
about as well defend myself.
“Monday mornin’ they come to the jail and told me I had to go before the
judge. I didn’t s’pose ‘twould come so soon, for I knew somethin’ about
how slow the courts was. You remember when Jimmy Carroll was killed by
the railroad? Well, that’s more’n three years ago, and the case ha’n’t
been tried yet. I was su’prised and didn’t know what to do, but there
wa’n’t much to do. They come after me and I had to go; so I put on my
coat and vest and they han’-cuffed me to a couple of guards, and took me
through some alleys and passages and over some bridges inside the
buildin’, and first thing I knew they opened a door and I came into a
room packed full of people, and the judge settin’ up on a big high seat
with a desk in front of him, and lookin’ awful solemn and kind of
scareful. As soon as I stepped in there was a buzz all over the room,
and ever’body reached out their necks, and kind of got up on their
chairs and looked at me. The guards took off my han’-cuffs and set me
down in a chair ‘side of a big table. And then one of ‘em set back of me
and another one right to my side.
“They waited a few minutes till ever’one got still, and then some feller
got up and spoke to the judge and said ‘People against Jackson.’ The
judge looked at me and said, just as solemn and hard as he could,
‘Jackson, stand up.’ Of course I done what he said, and then he looked
the same way and said, ‘Are you guilty or not guilty?’ Of course I was
kind of scared before all of them people; I’d never been called up in a
crowd before, except a few times when I said a few words in the union
where I knew all the boys. But these people were all against me, and
anyhow it was an awful hard place to put a feller, so I stood still a
minit tryin’ to think what I ought to say, and whether someone was there
that I could talk to. Finally the judge spoke up and says, ‘The prisoner
pleads not guilty.’ ‘Jackson, have you a lawyer?’ and then I said: ‘I
hain’t got no lawyer.’ Then he asked if I wanted him to appoint one, and
I told him I wished he would. He asked me who I’d have. Of course I
thought I could choose anyone I wanted, so I said Groves. Then he
laughed and ever’one else laughed, and he said he guessed Groves had too
much to do to bother with me. So I chose one or two more names I’d heard
of, and he said none of ‘em would do it neither. Then he said he’d give
me till tomorrow to make up my mind who I wanted, and he told the
bailiff to take me back to jail. So they put the han’-cuffs on and we
went back through the alleys and over the bridges to the jail. When I
got to my cell I asked the guard what he thought I ought to do about a
lawyer, and he said that lots of lawyers had give him their cards and
asked him to hand them to the prisoners and told him they would divide
the fee, if they got any. They mostly wa’n’t much good for the business.
He said there was one young feller who seemed pretty smart, but he
hadn’t never had a case, but he’d probably work hard to get his name up.
I told him that it didn’t seem as if a lawyer ought to commence on a
case like mine, and he said that wouldn’t make any difference, most of
the murder cases was defended by lawyers that was just startin’. There
wa’n’t hardly anyone who was tried but was too poor to have a good
lawyer. Then I told him to send me the young lawyer, and he did.
“The lawyer wa’n’t a bad feller, and he seemed interested in the case,
and was the first person I’d seen since I done it who wanted to help me.
Of course I could see he was new at the business, like one of them
green-horns that comes in the yards the first time and brings a stick to
couple cars with; but I liked his face and seen he was honest. It didn’t
seem quite fair, though, that I should have a lawyer that hadn’t never
had a case. I didn’t believe they’d take a young feller who was just out
of a medicine-college and set him to cut off a leg all by himself, the
first thing, or even take a country-jake and let him kill steers at the
stock-yards, but I didn’t see no way to help it, and I thought mebbe if
I didn’t take him I’d do worse instead of better. He asked me all about
the case and seemed disappointed when I told him how it was; he said he
was afraid there wa’n’t much show, unless he claimed insanity. I told
him I didn’t see how he could make out that I was crazy; that I thought
self-defense or somethin’ like that would be better. He said he’d think
it over till tomorrow, and talk with some of the professors at the
college, and be in court in the mornin’. The next day they come for me
right after breakfast, and put on the han’-cuffs and took me to court
again. The same kind of a crowd was there as the day before, and I was
pretty badly scart; but my lawyer was at the table with me, and he spoke
to me real friendly, and that made me feel a little better. Then the
judge called the case, and asked if I had a lawyer, and my lawyer spoke
up and said he was goin’ to defend me; so the judge said all right, and
asked if the other side was ready. They said they was, and that they
wanted the case tried right off. Then the judge asked my lawyer if he
was ready and he said ‘no,’ that he’d just come into the case and hadn’t
had no chance to get it ready. Then the lawyer on the other side said
that I was notified yesterday that I must be ready today and I didn’t
have anything to do but get ready; that they wanted to try it now; that
next week he wanted to go to a picnic, and the week after to a
convention, and it must be done now; then, there had been so many
murders that no one was safe in Chicago, and the whole public was
anxious to see the case tried at once. Besides there wa’n’t any defense.
I had killed her and run away, and wa’n’t entitled to any consideration.
“My lawyer said it wouldn’t be right to put me on trial without a chance
to defend myself, that I couldn’t get away yesterday to look up
witnesses, and I had a right to a reasonable time; that he wanted at
least four weeks to prepare the case. This seemed to make the judge mad.
He said there wa’n’t no excuse for any delay, but as this was such a
clear case he wanted to give me every chance he could, so he would
continue till next Monday. Then I was took back to the jail, and my
lawyer met me over there and I told him ever’ place I went the day I
done it, and ever’one I saw, and all about her, and what she’d done to
make me mad, and he said he’d go out himself and look it up, and do what
he could, but he was ‘fraid there wa’n’t no chance. The papers had said
so much and the citizens had got up a Crime Committee, and ever’one who
was tried either went to the penitentiary or got hung.
“Ever’day the lawyer would come and ask me something ‘bout the case, and
tell me what he’d found out. He said he couldn’t get any witnesses to
say anything; that the man where I got the beefsteak was ‘fraid to come
and testify; that someone had been there from the State’s Attorney’s
office and most scart him to death, and he was ‘fraid of gettin’ into
trouble and gettin’ mixed up with it himself, and anyway he didn’t see
as he’d do the case any good if he came. He said he couldn’t find
anything that helped him a bit. He’d been to the house, but the poker
and everything that would do any good had been taken by the state, and
he didn’t know which way to turn. He kep’ comin’ back to my insanity,
and asked me if any of my parents or grand-parents, or uncles or aunts
or cousins, or anyone else was crazy. I told him I didn’t know anything
‘bout them but I didn’t think it was any use to try that. I knew what I
was doin’, all right. Then he told me if I had a hundred dollars he
could get a good doctor to swear I was crazy; but I hadn’t any hundred
dollars of course, and besides I never thought ‘twould do much good. So
I told him that he wa’n’t to blame for it, and to just do the best he
could, and I’d be satisfied whichever way it went. I didn’t expect much
myself anyhow. He said he’d have me plead guilty and the judge would
most likely give me a life-sentence, only since this crusade against
crime the judges dassent do that; there was so much said about it in the
newspapers, and they was all ‘fraid of what the papers said. He told me
that he didn’t believe it was anything more than second-degree murder
anyhow, but there wa’n’t any chance now, the way public opinion was.
“I begun to get pretty well acquainted with the prisoners in the jail
and some of ‘em was real nice and kind and wanted to do all they could
to help ever’one that was in trouble. Of course some of ‘em was pretty
desp’rate, and didn’t seem to care much for anything. Then there was
some that had been in jail ten and fifteen times, and been in the
penitentiary, and ever’where, and just as soon as they got out they got
right back in again; they didn’t seem to learn anything by goin’ to
prison, and it didn’t seem to do them any hurt. They said they’d just as
soon be there as anywhere else.
“But one thing I noticed a good deal that I never thought anything about
until that feller come and spoke, that was how that the outsiders was
really the ones that got punished the worst. It was sickenin’ to see how
some of them poor women would cry and take on because their man was in
jail, and how they’d work and scrub night and day and nearly kill
themselves to earn money to get him out; and then the little children
that come to see their fathers, how they’d stay out of school and work
in the packin’-houses and laundries and do anything for a little money
to help them out. Hones’ly I believe if anyone stays ‘round here for a
week he’ll see that the people that ain’t done nothin’ is punished a
good deal more’n the others. Why, there was one awful pretty-lookin’
girl used to come here to see her father, and the fellers told me that
she was studyin’ music or somethin’ like that, and her father was put in
jail on a fine, and she came here to see him every day, and done all she
could to earn the money to get him out, but she couldn’t do it, and
finally she went into one of them sportin’ houses down on Clark Street,
and lived there long enough to get the money. I don’t know, of course,
whether it’s so, but I don’t see why not. Lots of the girls go to the
department stores and laundries and stock-yards and they ain’t much
harder places on a girl’s health. Anybody’ll do everything they can to
earn money to save anyone they care for.
“Well, the week went away pretty fast. I didn’t s’pose ‘twas so hard to
get a case continued. You know that Carroll case? You remember we quit
our work four or five times and lost our pay, and the judge continued it
just because the lawyer had somethin’ else to do. But I knew ‘twouldn’t
be no use for me to try to get mine continued any more. And I didn’t
care much. I was gettin’ so I’d just about as soon be done with it as
not, and still I was pretty sure I’d be hung.
“The next Monday mornin’ I was taken into court the same way, and the
han’-cuffs was unlocked, and I was set down to the table by my lawyer.
One guard set just back of me and the other at the side. Someone started
a story that a gang of Bridgeport toughs was comin’ to rescue me, but of
course there wa’n’t nothin’ in it. I didn’t have a friend that even come
to see me—but the newspapers all printed the story, and, of course, that
was against me too.
“When the judge called the case, he asked if we was ready, and my lawyer
said he needed more time; that he’d done all he could to get ready, but
he hadn’t had time. But the judge wouldn’t pay a bit of attention to
him, and said he must go to trial at once, and told the bailiff to call
a jury. So the bailiff called the names of twelve men and they took
their seats in two rows of chairs along one side of the room. Ever’ one
of ‘em looked at me as if he didn’t like to be in the same room where I
was. Then the lawyers commenced askin’ ‘m questions—where they lived,
and how long they had lived there, and where they lived before, and how
much rent they paid, and what they worked at, and how long they’d worked
there, and what they’d done before, and what their fathers done, and
where they come from, and was they dead, and if they was married, and
how many times, and if they had children, and how many, and how old, and
if they was boys or girls, and if the children went to school, and what
they studied, and if they belonged to the church, and what one, and if
they belonged to any societies or lodges or labor unions, or knew
anyone, or read the papers, or didn’t believe in hangin’ people, and if
they believed in ‘circumstantial evidence,’ and if they’d hang on
circumstantial evidence, and if they believed in the law—and a lot of
other things that I can’t remember. If anyone didn’t believe in hangin’
he was let go right away; and if they didn’t believe in circumstantial
evidence they didn’t keep ‘em either.
“The other lawyer asked questions first and it didn’t take him very long
to get the ones that he wanted. Ever’one said he believed in hangin’,
and they all said they’d hang anybody on circumstantial evidence. After
he got through my lawyer questioned ‘em. They all said that they’d read
all about the case, and had formed an opinion about it—and they all
looked at me as if they had. Then my lawyer objected to ‘em, and the
judge said to each one, ‘Well, even if you have formed an opinion, don’t
you think you could lay that aside and not pay any attention to it, and
try the case on the evidence and give the prisoner the benefit of the
doubt? Don’t you think that in spite of the opinion you could presume
him innocent when you begin?’ Most of ‘em said they could; one of ‘em
said he couldn’t. Then the judge lectured him for not bein’ able to give
anyone a fair trial, no matter who he was, and said we’d have to take
the others, and told us to go ahead and get another one. So my lawyer
tried another one and found him just like the rest. But the judge made
us take him anyway. He said they was perfectly fair jurors, and we
couldn’t expect to get men that sympathized with crime.
“It ain’t any use to tell you all about gettin’ the jury, and then I
hain’t got time. Both sides had a right to strike off twenty without any
reason at all, only that they didn’t like ‘em. We took a long time to
get a jury. We didn’t get much of any until after we had struck off
‘most all of our twenty. All the jurors seemed to have made up their
minds, but pretty nearly all of ‘em said it didn’t make any difference;
they could give me a fair trial even if their minds was made up.
“I noticed that they struck off workin’-men and Catholics, and people
that didn’t have any religion, and foreigners, and I noticed my lawyer
struck off Baptists, and Presbyterians, and Swedes, and G. A. R.’s. It
took three or four days to get the jury, and then we hadn’t any more
challenges left, and so we had to take ‘em. Pretty near ever’one of ‘em
said they’d read all about the case in all the papers and had their
minds made up. I knew, of course, that meant they was against me. But
still they all said that didn’t make no difference if they had got their
minds made up, they could forget their opinions and go at the case as if
they believed I was innocent. But ever’one of ‘em said he believed in
hangin’, and all of ‘em said that circumstantial evidence was good
enough for him. I set there ‘side of the table with my lawyer and looked
‘em over, and tried to make up my mind what they was thinkin’ of, but
they wa’n’t one of ‘em would look at me when they knew I was lookin’,
and I could see from the way they did that they was sure all the time
that I done it, and ought to swing. Of course, I know it’s the law that
when a feller’s placed on trial they’re s’posed to be innocent, but I
knew that the judge and all them twelve men felt sure I was guilty or I
wouldn’t have been there. Of course I done it. I don’t know anything
that would’ve done any good, but all the same it’s pretty tough to be
tried by a jury when they think you ought to be hung before they
commence.
“After they got the jury the other lawyer told ‘em about the case, and
he made it awful black. I don’t know how he ever found out all the
things he said. Of course a good many of ‘em was true and a good many
wa’n’t true, but he made out that I was the worst man that ever lived.
The judge listened to ever’ word he said and looked over to me ever’
once in a while, as if he wondered how I ever could’ve done it, and was
glad that I was where I belonged at last. The jury watched ever’ word
the lawyer said, and looked at me ever’ once in a while to see how I
stood it. Of course it was mighty hard, but I done the best I could.
When he got through the judge asked my lawyer what he had to say, and he
said he wouldn’t tell his side now. Then they commenced puttin’ in the
evidence.
“I s’pose you read all about it at the time, but the papers always gave
me the worst of it, and the evidence wa’n’t near so bad as it looked in
the papers. Of course they proved about the boy goin’ out the next
mornin’ to the neighbors, and cryin’ for his pa and ma, and about
ever’one lookin’ all over for us without findin’ us nor any trace of
either one, and about the horse and wagon both lookin’ as if it had been
out all night. And then the folks as lived next door told about hearin’
me say ‘you damned bitch,’ and hearin’ someone fall, though they didn’t
think much of it then as they’d heard so many rows before. And then they
told about findin’ a piece of brown paper covered with blood, and then
they brought in a doctor, or someone who said he’d examined it with a
magnifyin’ glass and it was human blood. He wa’n’t quite sure whether it
was a gentleman or a lady; but he knew ‘twas one or the other. Then they
brought in the paper and handed it to the jury, and passed it down along
both rows, and ever’one took it in his hand and felt it, and looked at
it just as if they never had seen any paper like that before, and wanted
to make sure ‘twas paper and not cloth. Of course the minute I seen it I
knew it was the paper that had the beefsteak in it, and I told my lawyer
what it was. An’ I got right up to say something and the judge looked at
me just as cross and says ‘Set down and keep still; you’ve got a lawyer
to talk for you, and if you say anything more, I’ll send you to jail.’
Of course I was scart to hear him speak to me that way before the jury
and the whole room full of people, and I knew that it would show
ever’one that the judge was against me. Some of the papers next day made
out that I jumped up and was goin’ to run away when I seen the bloody
paper.
“My lawyer had another doctor examine a piece of the paper that night,
and he said it was a cow or an ox, but he wouldn’t come and testify to
it unless I’d give him a hundred dollars, but of course I didn’t have
that. The court room was awful still when they passed around that paper;
you could hear the jurors breathe and they held their heads down as if
they felt sorry about somethin’. And after they’d looked it all over the
lawyer took it, and the judge says: ‘Let me see that paper,’ and he put
on his spectacles and looked it all over, first on one side and then on
the other. He had a little bit of a magnifyin’ glass in one hand, and he
put it over the paper and looked at it through the glass, and then he
looked at me just as solemn as if it was a funeral, and I seen it was
all up with me. Of course, I told my lawyer just where I got it and what
it was, and he went down to the butcher shop and seen the man, but the
man was ‘fraid to come, and said he didn’t remember ‘bout the steak nor
about me; he guessed he’d seen me—I used to come down that way to
peddle—but he couldn’t tell whether I was in the shop that night or not.