Mr. Ingersoll. [Interposing.] I don't want to hear from you.
The Court. You do not know what he is going to say.
Mr. Ingersoll. He may be intending to make a motion that the jury be
instructed to find a verdict of not guilty.
Mr. Ker. As Mr. Merrick will have to answer, he simply wants to know the
page.
Mr. Ingersoll. If Mr. Merrick wants to know the page he shall have the
page, or anybody that wishes to answer. If counsel had simply asked me
for the page, without getting up in such a solemn manner, I would have
told him.
On page 1406, Mr. Moore says that he went to Dorsey and got the money,
and that then Dorsey requested him to telegraph to The Dalles, and that
he did not see Dorsey after he got the answer to his dispatch, I think,
for two or three days. He reached Washington, he says, about the 11th.
On page 1372, he speaks of telegraphing to The Dalles by instructions
from Dorsey.
Now, gentlemen, I am going to call your attention for a little while
to another witness, Mr. Rerdell. And in the commencement, I need not
refresh your minds with regard to the part he has played. I need not, in
the first instance, tell you about his affidavit of June, 1881, nor his
affidavit of July 13, 1882, nor his pencil memorandum, nor his Chico
letter, nor his offer to pack the jury on behalf of the Government, nor
the signals he had agreed upon, nor the reports he made from day to day,
nor the affidavit of September that he made for the Government, nor of
November nor of February. All these things you remember and remember
perfectly. I will speak of them as I reach them, but I want you to keep
in your minds who he is.
I need not call any names. Epithets would glance from his reputation
like bird-shot from the turret of a monitor. The worst thing I can say
about him is to call him Mr. Rerdell. All epithets become meaningless in
comparison. The worst thing I can say after that would have the taint of
flattery in it. You will remember when Enobarbus was speaking to
Agrippa about Caesar, he says, "Would you praise Caesar, say Caesar. Go
no further." And I can say, "If you wish to abuse this witness, say Mr.
Rerdell. Go no further." That is as far as I shall go.
You will remember that Mr. Rerdell was in the employ of Stephen W.
Dorsey, and had been for several years. He does not pretend that he was
ever badly used; he does not say before you that Mr. Dorsey ever did to
him an unkind act, ever said an unkind word. In all the record of the
years that he was with him he finds no page blotted with an unjust
act, not one. He has no complaint to make. Under those circumstances
he voluntarily goes to see a man by the name of Clayton, I think an
ex-Senator from Arkansas, known to him at that time to be an enemy of
Stephen W. Dorsey, an enemy of his employer, an enemy of his friend--his
friend, whose bread this witness had eaten for years, whose roof had
protected him, who had trusted and treated him like a human being. Yet
he goes to this man Clayton, and he says, in substance, "I want to
sell out my friend to the Government." He was not actuated exactly by
patriotism, although he says he was. The promptings of virtue may have
started him, but after he got started he said to himself, "I do not see
that it hurts virtue to be rewarded." So he said, "I want some pay for
this; I want a steamboat route reinstated; I want the Jennings claim
allowed. Of course I am disinterested in what I am doing, but I might
as well have something, if it is going." "What else do you want?" The
disinterested patriot suggested that he would like to have a clerkship
for his father-in-law. "Anything else?" If you will read his letter of
July 5, 1882, which I will read to you before I get through, you will
see that he says, "If I had remained with the Government I have every
reason to believe I would have had a good position by this time." So he
must have demanded a clerkship for himself--good, honest man. At that
time he did not know, but swore it afterwards and swore it here upon the
stand, that Dorsey had never done anything wrong; and yet he was willing
to sell him to the Government, believing that he had never done anything
wrong. So he went and saw the Postmaster-General. The Postmaster-General
did not appear to take any great interest in the matter. He turned him
over to the Attorney-General. He showed the Postmaster-General what he
had, and read him, I believe, or showed him some memoranda. Then he went
and saw the Attorney-General. The Postmaster-General did not seem to
give him encouragement. Then when he went to see MacVeagh he took with
him a letter-book--I do not know but more than one--but we will say a
letter-book. Now, what was in that letter-book? And, gentlemen, the
only way to find whether a man tells the truth is to take all the
circumstances into consideration. What did he want to do? What was his
object? And what were the means at his command? For instance, it is said
that a man left his house with the intention of murdering another, and
that he had on his table a loaded revolver, and also had on his table a
small walking-stick, and he took with him the walking-stick. You would
say he did not intend to commit the murder; that if he had so intended
he would have taken the deadly weapon. In other words, you must believe
that men, acting for the accomplishment of a certain object, use the
natural means within their power.
Now, what did he have in that letter-book? He swears now that in that
letter-book there was a copy of a letter from Stephen W. Dorsey to James
W. Bosler; that the original letter was written by Stephen W. Dorsey.
That press-copy, of course, would show that the original letter was in
the handwriting of S. W. Dorsey. What does he swear was in that letter?
He swears that Dorsey made a proposition to Bosler to go into the
business; told him the profits, and told him that he had to give
thirty-three and one-third per cent, to T. J. B.; that he had already
paid him, I think, twenty thousand dollars, and had more to pay him.
According to the testimony of Mr. Rerdell, that was in the letter-book
that he took to Mr. MacVeagh. Now, recollect that. Why did he not show
it? He had forgotten it. He showed him what he had. Recollect now, that
he had a tabular statement. I think the letter showed so much money to
T. J. B., and the tabular statement thirty-three and one-third per cent,
to T. J. B. He had that tabular statement, and that was in Dorsey's
handwriting. He says he had it. Well, after that, the Attorney-General
must have told him, "That is not enough; I want some more." "Well," he
says, "I can let you have some more." "What more can you let us have?"
Well, then he told him about the red books; I do not know that he said
they were red, but he told him about the books and that those books were
in New York, and he would go over there and get them; that he was
going to steal them; he says he went over to get them, and afterwards
admitted, I believe that lie was stealing them.
Now, we must remember the position Rerdell was in. He had been to
Clayton, to the Postmaster-General in company with Mr. Woodward, and to
the Attorney-General in company with Mr. Woodward, and yet there was
not enough. Well, it was all he had. What more could he do? He suddenly
found himself caught in his own trap. He had furnished enough to trouble
him, but not enough to convict Dorsey, and not enough to be promised
immunity. Now, what had he to do? He did exactly as he did with Mr.
Woodward in September, when he made that affidavit, and when Woodward
said it was not enough; he said, "Very well, I will make another," the
same as he did when he made the affidavit of seventy pages in November
and found it was a little weak. He made another, and he would have made
them right along. He had a factory running night and day. Now, he tells
you that while he was talking with MacVeagh, just towards the last of
the conversation, the idea flashed into his brain that he might save
Dorsey too. Don't you remember that testimony? And as quick as he
thought of that, he agreed to go to New York and steal the books. The
very last thing that MacVeagh said to him, according to MacVeagh's
testimony, and I believe according to his own, was to be sure and get
the books; that they were all important. So he went, as he claims. Now,
did it occur to him that he would save Dorsey in that way? Did he think
of saving Dorsey by going and getting these books? That was the last
thing, and he was going to get the books to be used as evidence against
Dorsey.
In a few days he says he started for New York, and the question arises,
why did Rerdell go to New York at all? Why did he want to see that the
books were in New York? Why did he pretend that he had any more evidence
unless he had it? You see you have got to get at the philosophy of
this man; you have got to find what actuated him; and although in many
respects he is abnormal, unnatural, monstrous, and morally deformed,
still it may be that we can find the philosophy upon which he acted. Why
did he say he was going to New York? Because the Attorney-General
told him--he must have told him--that the evidence he then had was not
sufficient. Rerdell could not break down right there and say, "That is
all I have got." That would give up the fight; that would tell him
that he had endeavored to sell out his friend and nobody would buy the
evidence; that would tell him that he had tried this and had failed;
that he had simply succeeded in showing his own treachery without
involving his friend. He could not stop there. You must recollect the
evidence he had, and the evidence he wanted.
Let us see what he had. Mr. Bliss says, "Why did he say the books were
in New York? Why did he not say they were in Washington?" That would
not have given him time, gentlemen. He would have been told, "Go and get
them." Then he could not have produced them. Consequently he put them in
the possession of somebody else, so that if he failed to get them, then
he could say that the other man destroyed them or had hid them; he could
have said, "I have done my best; they did exist, but they have been
destroyed, or they have been hidden, or they have been put out of the
way." He wanted time, and knowing that no such books existed, he could
not say, "I have them in Washington," because then he could give no
excuse for their non-production. He must state it in such a way that he
could reasonably fail; that is to say, that he could give a reason for
his failure. He could not say, "I have them in my house," because
he would have been told to go and get them. So he put them in the
possession of another man, so that, failing to get them, as fail he
must, he could give a reasonable excuse for the failure.
Why did he go to New York? I will tell you what my philosophy is: He
found that the Government did not wish to purchase the evidence that he
had. He found that, in the judgment of the expert of the Department of
Justice, it was not sufficient. The next thing was to retrace his steps.
He did not want to jump off of one boat into the sea and find no other
boat to rescue him. He said: "I have been too hasty; I will go to New
York." Why? To find out whether Dorsey had heard of this or not. That
is what he went there for. The inferior man always imagines that the
superior knows what he is doing, and knows what he has done. He found
that he was about to fail with the Government, and then the important
question to him was: Has Dorsey found this out? Can I go back to
Dorsey? Or must I go on and be cast away by him and be refused by the
Government?
Now let me call another thing to your minds. I will come to it again,
but it forces itself upon me at this place, and it seems to me it ought
to be absolutely conclusive.
He swears that on the day after he went to MacVeagh with that
letter-book, in looking it over he found the press-copy of the original
letter that Dorsey wrote to Bosler on the 13th of July, 1879. says that
the next day he found that copy in that copy-book. Why did he not steal
the book? Conscientious scruples, gentlemen! You see he was going to New
York to steal another. Why not steal one that he already had possession
of? And how much better that book would have been than the other that he
was going to get. This was a copy of a letter in Dorsey's handwriting,
in which he admitted that he had paid twenty thousand dollars to T. J.
B., and was going to pay him some more, while that book in New York was
not in Dorsey's handwriting--admitting, for the sake of the argument,
that there was a book--but was in the handwriting of Donnelly
or Rerdell. See? And right there he had the evidence, absolutely
conclusive, in the handwriting of S. W. Dorsey himself, and he did not
even keep it, he did not even steal it, but he gave it back and went
to New York to steal a book that Dorsey did not write. He threw away
primary evidence to get secondary evidence. He threw away that which
would have convicted Dorsey beyond a doubt, which would have made him
a welcome recruit to the Government. He threw that away and went to New
York to get another, a line of which Dorsey never wrote; and then he
would have to establish, after he got that book, that "William Smith"
stood for Thomas J. Brady; he would have to prove after they got
that book that "John Smith" or "Samuel Jones" stood for Turner. Now,
gentlemen, do you believe that that man, with his ideas of honor, with
the kind of a conscience he has in his bosom, with the copy of a letter
in Dorsey's handwriting in his possession admitting that Dorsey gave
twenty thousand dollars to T. J. B., would give that up and then go to
the city of New York to steal a book not in Dorsey's handwriting, and
that did not prove that Dorsey had ever paid a cent to Thomas J. Brady,
in which there was one charge to "William Smith," and that would have to
be eked out by the testimony of Rerdell himself, when he had right
there in his own grasp and clutch the press-copy of the original letter
written by Dorsey himself? Do you believe it? There is not a man on
that jury believes it; there is not a lawyer prosecuting this case who
believes it.
What else did he have? He had a letter that he himself, as he claims,
wrote to Bosler on the 22d of May, 1880, after he, Rerdell, had been
summoned to appear before a committee of Congress. He had, he says,
those three sheets.
What else did he have the morning after he was talking with MacVeagh? He
had the tabular statement in the handwriting of Stephen W. Dorsey, and
over the Brady column, "T. J. B., thirty-three and one-third per cent."
What more did that man have? He had the balance-sheets made out, as he
swears, by Donnelly, of those books. Were the balance-sheets just as
good as the books?
Now, just think what he had, according to his own testimony: A copy of
the original letter, written by Dorsey to Bosler, in which he admitted
his guilt; a copy of the tabular statement, written by Dorsey, in which
he put down thirty-three and one-third per cent, to T. J. B. What more?
Copy of the letter that he had written to Bosler on the 22d of May,
1880. He had all that, and he must have had this memorandum, though I
will show you that he had not, and I think I will show you when he made
it. And yet he was going to New York to get some more evidence. He
was going to steal another book in New York that would simply create a
suspicion, while he gave up a book that was absolute certainty. That is
the theory. But they say, "Oh, he did not do that quite." What did
he do? He went and had that copied. He swears that he had copied
that letter of May 13, 1879, that Dorsey wrote to Bosler, in which he
admitted that he gave twenty thousand dollars to Brady. Now, a copy
would not show in whose handwriting the press-copy was, would it? That
is a very important point. Who copied it? I think he said Miss Nettie
L. White copied it. We never hear of Miss Nettie L. White again, though.
These gentlemen admit that you are not to believe Mr. Rerdell on any
point that is not corroborated, and when he swears that Miss Nettie L.
White copied the letter you are not bound to believe there was such a
letter unless they bring Miss White or account for her absence. They
did not bring her. That is an extremely important point in their case,
infinitely more important than whether the red books ever existed. Did
Dorsey write a letter to Bosler in which he admitted his guilt? This man
says that he had complete and perfect evidence of it in his own hand;
that he gave that up; that he had that copied by Miss White. And they
did not bring Miss White. Certainly he had no scruples about tearing it
out. He says he tore out his letter to Bosler of the 22d of May, 1880.
He had no scruples about that. He did not refuse to keep the book
because it touched his honor, because in a day or two he was going to
steal another not half as good as that one, not one-tenth part as good.
Just think. He gave up evidence that was absolute and complete, and went
to steal evidence that was secondary and of the poorest character. You
do not believe it. He would have kept that book if he had kept any. If
he was going to steal any evidence, and had the best, he would have kept
it. The trouble was that there was no such letter in that book. There
was his letter of May 22, 1880; no doubt about that; and that man tore
it out, and then he made up one in his own mind, and had it of that
date; that is all.
So he went to New York, and he swears that he went right up to the
Albemarle Hotel; that it was early in the morning; that Dorsey was not
then up; and that he had a conversation with Dorsey, in which Dorsey
charged him with having had something to do with the Government, with
having gone over to the Government. Dorsey had heard that there was
something going on about that time, and I suppose he asked Mr. Rerdell
about it. Rerdell denied it; said there was no truth in it; that nothing
of the kind, character, or sort had ever happened.
Now let us just see whether I can demonstrate to you that Rerdell, in
the conversation he had with Dorsey at the Albemarle Hotel, denied that
he had gone over to the Government, or that he had done anything that
was not perfectly honest, straightforward, and upright. I refer to it
now, although I may come to it again.
And, gentlemen, I am sorry for you; I pity every one of you, that you
have to hear all that has to be said in this case. But you must put
yourselves, for the moment, in our places. You must remember that these
defendants have borne this agony, have been roofed and surrounded
with disorder for two years. You must remember that the agents of the
Government have pursued them, they have watched over them and spied them
night and day. You must remember that they have been slandered for
years in the public press, although the tone of the public press is now
changing, and changing in such a marked degree that one of the
attorneys here for the prosecution claimed that we had bought up the
correspondents. When you take into consideration what my clients have
suffered, the position they are now in, fighting this great and powerful
Government, I know you will excuse us for inflicting upon you every
thought and every argument that we think may be for our defence.
I am doing for my clients what I would do for you, or any of you, if you
were defendants, and I am doing for them what I would want them to do
for me were I a defendant and they my counsel.
Now I am going to demonstrate this. When Mr. Rerdell got to Jersey City
he telegraphed back, according to the evidence of Mr. Dorsey:
Up to this moment I have been faithful to every trust.
I believe Rerdell swears that he did not send that. He had a
memorandum-book which he took out of his pocket. I think a leaf was torn
from it, and he ran his pencil through this line on the page on which
he had taken a copy of this dispatch, "Up to this moment I have been
faithful to every trust," and says he did not send it. Why did he put
his pencil through that? Because that line would not agree with the
testimony he had given upon the stand. "Up to this moment I have been
faithful to every trust" was in that dispatch. I want to ask you if you
believe that Rerdell could have sent that dispatch to a man to whom he
had admitted that very morning that he had gone over to the Government?
Do you believe it? How perfectly natural it would have been for him to
send a dispatch from Jersey City that harmonized and accorded with his
denial of that morning.
Just look at that [handing the paper to the foreman of the jury.]
Just read it. I want the jury to look at it. He rubbed it out of his
memorandum-book. When? At the time? No, sir; when he found that he
wanted something to harmonize with his evidence here. Even he had not
the brazen effrontery to swear that he had told Dorsey that very morning
that he (Rerdell) had gone over to the Government, and then that very
afternoon to telegraph him--Up to this moment I have been faithful to
every trust.
Why, in comparison with that cheek brass is a liquid. What is the next
sentence?
The affidavit story is a lie.
Why did he leave that in? Because technically that was true. He had not
then made an affidavit, and there is nothing so pleases a man who has
made up his mind to tell a lie as to have mixed with the mortar of that
lie one hair of truth. It is delightful to smell the perfume of a fact
in the hell-broth of his perjury. Just look at that. These two things
show that he had not admitted to Dorsey that he had told the Government
anything against Dorsey. He wanted Dorsey to understand that he,
Rerdell, had not communicated with the Government. Now, if you admit his
evidence to be true, at the time he sent that dispatch he had the stolen
book under his arm, and you, gentlemen of the jury, are asked to believe
a man who would do that thing. I would not. I would not convict the
meanest, lowest wretch that ever crawled between heaven and earth upon
such testimony. Never. Neither can you do it. A verdict must rest upon
a fact. The fact must rest upon the testimony of a witness. That witness
must be, or seem to be, an honest man. And unless a verdict is based
upon the bed-rock of honesty, it is infinitely rotten, and the jury that
will give a verdict not based upon honesty is corrupt.
Mr Crane (foreman of the jury.) I notice that this dispatch seems to
have been written with different pencils at different times.
Mr Ingersoll--Up to this moment I have been faithful to every trust--Is
written very dimly.
The affidavit story is a lie, but confidence between us is gone--Is in
still a different hand.
I resign my position and will turn everything over to any one you
designate--Is still another hand. Three hands, three pencils, in the one
memorandum. These papers have been manufactured, and when the Government
said, "This is not enough," another paragraph has been added.
How hard it is to perpetrate a piece of rascality and do it well. There
are an infinite number of things in this universe, and everything that
is in it is related to everything else; and when you get a falsehood in
it that does not belong to the family, it has not the family likeness;
and when anybody sees it who is acquainted with the family, he says,
"That is an adopted young one."
Mr. Rerdell now says, I believe, that he did not send that line, "Up to
this moment," &c. Dorsey swears that he did. Rerdell then produces this
book and this paper which I have shown to you.
Now, let us follow Mr. Rerdell from the Albemarle Hotel.
I will show that he crosses himself on almost every fact that he
endeavors to swear to. He swears that he went to Dorsey's; that from
Dorsey's he went immediately to Tor-rey's office; that he then went and
got lunch and then went to Jersey City. He also swears that he got his
breakfast before he went to Dorsey's. In the next examination he swears
that he got his breakfast after he went to Dorsey's, and after he got
the book he went to Jersey City, first walking up and down Broadway for
about an hour. He had forgotten about the lunch. There is nothing in
it but a mass of contradiction. He swears that he went down to Torrey's
office. Why did he not make it earlier, as soon as he got off the boat?
Because he did not have any key to the office. It would not do to swear
that he broke into the office and that nobody ever heard of it, and so
he had to put the time after the office would naturally be open. Well,
now we have got him as far as the office. He swears that he went in
there and saw Mr. Torrey. After chatting a little with Torrey, and
telling him the object of his visit, Torrey took him into the next room
and took these books from a shelf or desk, or something of that kind,
and handed them both to him, and he looked them over at his leisure,
while Mr. Torrey went back to his business. He finally took the journal
and left the ledger. Why did he leave the ledger? I will tell you after
a while. Every lie, as well as every truth, has its philosophy. He took
the journal and came along out with it under his arm, not wrapped up,
not concealed. Then he had another chat with Torrey about the weather
or something, and then he went on. Why did he swear that he had a
conversation with Torrey in that office? I will tell you. When he was
giving that testimony, Torrey was in mid-ocean, between New York and
Liverpool. I guess Mr. Rerdell had heard that the man was away. He
thought he would be absolutely and perfectly safe, and so he said he
had a conversation with Torrey. The moment he repeated that conversation
with Torrey, I said, "Where is Torrey?" We telegraphed to New York and
we found that Torrey had left for the old country. We sent a cablegram
to Queenstown and we intercepted him. I think he staid a day in the old
country, and took the next ship and came back, arriving here in time
to swear that Rerdell never visited that office, that he never had that
conversation with him, and that he never got that book from that office;
more than that, that that book never was in that office. Who are you
going to believe, Torrey or Rerdell?
Another man was there on that very day, Mr. Mullins. He never had any
recollection of seeing Rerdell until he saw him here. All the books were
kept in the safe except the books that Torrey had in his desk. No
such books were in the safe and no such books were in Torrey's desk.
Gentlemen, no such books existed, and I will demonstrate it to you
before I get through. No doubt the man had some little expense-books of
his own. He has widened them, he has lengthened them, he has thickened
them, he has colored them. He has refreshed other people. When the
Government tells a man, "You have got an office, haven't you?" "Yes."
"Well, we want you to remember this." Then he is refreshed on the
subject. The words the Government speaks are rain and dew and sunlight
upon the dry grass of his memory and it springs up green. He says he has
been refreshed. Before I get through I will show you that these things
were proved only by gentlemen who had been refreshed.
Now, why did Rerdell say he took the journal and left the ledger? I will
tell you. There is more in the shirt theory than you would think. He had
a shirt in a paper, folded up just once over the bosom. Unexpectedly
lie met Mr. James on the train. He was very much surprised to meet him,
because James swears he was very much surprised to meet Rerdell. James
knew that he had gone over to New York to get those books, and he asked
him, "Did you get the books?" Rerdell had that beggarly little package.
He could not call that "books," because it was not large enough, and so
he had to say he had a book. That was the reason he said journal and not
ledger. He had too small a package for "books," and consequently he
told James he had the "book," and he is sticking to it; only one book.
Another reason: He said to James, and it was very smart of him, "I don't
want to show you what I have got in this package, because there is a
fellow looking," and so the shirt, in unconscious innocence, reposed
unseen. Who was the fellow who was looking? Chase Andrews. You recollect
him. He came into the depot at Jersey City at the time Rerdell was
writing this virtuous dispatch, this certificate of his honor and of
his faithfulness. He shook hands with Rerdell. Rerdell said he had a
carpet-sack, but it was not big enough to get one of these books in. He
wanted the jury to think it was a pretty big book. He hated to lose a
chance of adding to the size of the book, and so he swore that it was
too big to put in the carpet-sack. If he had only had sense enough to
put it in the carpet-sack, and let it alone, we never could have proven
anything about it by Chase Andrews. Andrews would not have sworn that he
looked through the carpet-sack. But Rerdell in his anxiety to have
that book a big book said he could not get it into the carpet-sack, and
consequently must have held it in his hand. Chase Andrews saw him in the
depot at Jersey City, and rode in the next seat in the Pullman car
from Jersey City to Washington, and Rerdell had no book. Who will you
believe, Chase Andrews or Mr. Rerdell?
Mr. Ingersoll. [Resuming.] May it please the Court and gentlemen of the
jury.
It is also claimed by the prosecution that on the evening of the day on
which Rerdell was in New York and sent the telegram from Jersey City.
Dorsey wrote a letter to Rerdell in which he begged him for the sake
of his family, for the sake of his children, and everything to go no
further. I believe it is claimed that after Mr. Rerdell got back here
to Washington he showed that letter to his brother. It struck me as
extremely wonderful that he did not show his brother the book; that was
such an important thing, it being the thing that he went after, being
something that was to decide his fate with the Government. There was
nothing about that. Let me say right here: Suppose his story is true
that he told Dorsey that he had been to the Government. Would Dorsey
write to that man a letter begging him for God's sake not to go further?
Would he not rather have sent some man to see him? He knew at that time
that he was utterly dishonest, having received that very afternoon,
according to Rerdell's testimony, a telegram from Rerdell, in which
Rerdell admitted that he had told a falsehood. Would he then have put
himself upon paper? Would he have put himself in the power of that same
man? I ask you, because you know there is about as much human nature in
one person as in another, on the average, and the only way you can
tell what another man will do is by thinking "What would I do under the
circumstances?"
I am going to demonstrate to you now with just one point that there were
no such books. When Rerdell came to make the affidavit of June 20, 1881,
Dorsey knew that Rerdell had talked with MacVeagh, James, and Clayton.
He also knew that Rerdell, according to his statement, had promised to
go to New York and get the red book. Rerdell swears in the affidavit of
June, 1881, that he promised MacVeagh to go to New York and get those
books. Dorsey knew at that time whether such books existed or not. If he
knew they did exist then he knew that Rerdell went after them. Why did
not Dorsey ask Rerdell at the time he made that affidavit, "Did you
get a book in New York?" Admitting, for the sake of the argument, that
Rerdell's story is true that the books were there and that Dorsey knew
it, would not Dorsey have asked him, when he was making the affidavit of
June 20, 1881, "Did you get a book in New York? What did you do with it,
if you did?" Rerdell swears that Dorsey did not mention that subject;
that it was not talked of between them. Why? Because both knew that no
such books existed. That is the reason he did not ask him if he got it.
He knew that he did not get it. Why? Because the book was not there to
be obtained. Can you explain that on any other hypothesis? Dorsey knew
at this time, according to the testimony of Rerdell, that Rerdell
was dishonest; knew that Rerdell had tried to sell him out to the
Government; knew that Rerdell had promised MacVeagh he would go to New
York and get those books; knew that Rerdell had been to New York; knew
that Rerdell had gotten back, and yet did not ask him, "Did you get a
book?" Would he not naturally have said, "I want that book that you got
in New York. I want it now." It also appears in evidence that on the
very day that Rerdell was in New York and says he was in Torrey's
office, Torrey in the afternoon went to the Albemarle Hotel to do some
writing for Mr. Dorsey. Is it conceivable that Torrey would not in that
conversation have told Dorsey, "Your clerk, Rerdell, came to the office
to-day and I gave him the mail book or one of those books"? Not a word.
That affidavit was made in June, 1881, and was the affidavit in which
Rerdell disclosed what he had done with the Government, and that he
had agreed to get that very book, and yet Dorsey did not take interest
enough in the matter to ask him if he got a book.
Mr. Merrick. Is there any evidence of the conversation between Torrey
and Dorsey?
Mr. Ingersoll. No. The evidence is that Torrey went there that evening.
You claim that that was the topic of conversation, and that Dorsey sent
dispatches to Rerdell that night and wrote a letter to Rerdell. So, I
say, under the circumstances, and with the excitement then prevailing,
it is inconceivable that Torrey should not have said, "Your man Rerdell
has been at my office to-day, and got one of the books."
I say it is inconceivable that he did not tell him, and therefore Dorsey
must have known it had it been a fact, and had it been a fact when
Rerdell made the affidavit of 1881, Dorsey would have said, "I want that
book. I want the book you stole from my office." He did not even mention
it. It was not the subject of conversation. Yet, in that same affidavit,
he said that he agreed to go and get it, and in that same affidavit he
said that no such book ever existed. He swore to that affidavit from
friendship. You see, gentlemen, about how much friendship that man is
capable of. He swore for friendship that no such book existed; he now
swears that it did. What is that for? You want to consider these things.
Nobody asked about that book. The matter drifted along. The summer wore
away. Autumn touched the woods with gold. Nobody ever mentioned the
book. Winter came. That book was in a little carpet-sack hanging in a
woodshed. A magnificent place to secrete property. The snows descended;
the winds howled around that woodshed. The carpet-sack hung there with
the book in it. Nobody touched it. I think the next year, may be that
summer, he wrote or telegraphed to Mrs. Cushman to get the book. It
suddenly occurred to him that a woodshed was not a safe place for it.
She got a book. She looked into it enough to find out it was about the
mail business. She put it away; finally that book was brought from its
hiding-place on the 13th of July, 1882, when Rerdell says he handed it
over to Dorsey, and there is not one syllable of evidence going to show
that it was ever spoken of from the time he visited New York until he
brought it to Dorsey, as he claimed, at Willard's Hotel. What made him
give it to him? Dorsey was mad. Dorsey threatened that he would have
Rerdell arrested for perjury, because Rerdell had sworn that he, Dorsey,
was innocent. That is enough to excite the wrath of an ordinary man.
Dorsey was then on trial. The first trial was then going on. We were
right in the midst of it. The year before that Rerdell had solemnly
taken his oath that Dorsey was an innocent man, and here Dorsey was in a
court insisting that he was innocent. Yet he threatened to have Rerdell
then and there punished for perjury because he had sworn that he was
innocent. That frightened Rerdell. I think it was calculated to frighten
any man.
Why did Dorsey allow Rerdell to keep that book? There is only one
possible explanation: The book never existed. That is all. Torrey would
have told about it if it had been taken from his office, because I
believe the evidence shows that that affidavit was shortly afterwards
published. Nobody seemed to have taken any interest in that book. All
interest faded away. Now, Mr. Rerdell made that affidavit on the 20th
of June, 1881. I believe, on page 2468, Rerdell swears that when he
made the affidavit of June 20, 1881, he had the copies of the original
journal and ledger at Dorsey's office. Afterwards he swears he had not.
He swears that he then gave them to Dorsey. Afterwards he says they were
sent to New York the year before. I will come to that after awhile. Now,
let us see what the position of affairs was on June 20, 1881. At this
time Rerdell had furnished the Government all the information he had,
except the book. Then they had said to him substantially, "The evidence
is insufficient. We want more." Rerdell agreed to furnish them the
books, and went to New York to get the books.
Now, he had Dorsey absolutely in his power, according to his account.
What did he do? He had, according to his testimony, the copy of the
letter Dorsey had written to Bosler on the 13th of May, 1879, the copy
having been made by Miss Nettie L. White. He had the tabular statement
in Dorsey's own handwriting, showing thirty-three and one-third per
cent, to T. J. B. He had the letter that he himself wrote to Bosler on
the 22d of May, 1880. He had the red book. According to his statement,
on that day he had Dorsey in his power. All he had to do was to take the
next step and secure absolute safety for himself and crush his employer.
What did he do? He then said, "I went to the Government and played the
detective." He retreated. He voluntarily put himself in a position a
thousand times as perilous as he had been in before. He put himself in a
place where he had to swear that what he told the Government was a lie,
and that he was simply endeavoring to find out the Government's case and
was acting as a detective. You must recollect that Rerdell is a man
who does nothing for money. He will make an affidavit for unadulterated
friendship. He will make it also from fright. He will make it also, he
says, in the interest of truth. At that time he made an affidavit, as he
says, for friendship, and it is for the jury to determine how much a man
like Rerdell--because you know what he is just as well as I do--would
do for friendship. You have seen him here day after day. You saw him
sitting right at the door when Mr. Ker and Mr. Bliss were demonstrating
to you that he was a guilty wretch, and you saw his face beaming with
pleasure. He was absolutely delighted. Yet when Mr. Wilson stood here
and endeavored to show that the man was not as bad as he said he was,
endeavored to show that his plea of guilty was absolutely false, he
slunk away, covered with the shame of innocence. He did not want to hear
that. He wanted it understood that he was guilty, and that it was the
proudest moment of his life. Now, it is for you to determine how much
such a man would do for friendship. It is for you to determine how you
can take advantage of his finer nature. He had Dorsey in his power,
according to his story, but instead of carrying out his original
design he turned against the Government. Why did he do that? Because of
patriotism? No. Why? He did it for his own benefit, gentlemen. He never
acted from any other motive. Why did he not stay with the Government?
Because they would not give him his price for his evidence. Why would
they not give him his price for his evidence? Because his evidence was
not worth it. If he had had the copy of the letter from Dorsey to Bosler
they would have given him his price. They would have followed him
all over the United States to have given him his price. There was the
absolute evidence against Dorsey. There was the evidence against the man
whom Mr. MacVeagh wished to drag down. Why did they not buy it? Because
the man did not have it. Why did he desert the Government? Because the
Government would not give him his price. Again I ask why would not the
Government give him his price? Because he had not the goods; he had not
the evidence. Then what did he do? He sneaked back and asked protection
of the man he had endeavored to betray. That is what he did. He again
asked Dorsey to stand by him. Dorsey did not need this man. This man
needed him, and he instantly deserted the Government and went back to
Dorsey. For the sake of saving Dorsey? No. For the purpose of saving
himself.
He had not the evidence. Yet, according to this testimony of his, he did
what I told you. What else did he have? He had the route-book. What was
the route-book, gentlemen? From the evidence it appears that this man
kept a route-book, and that in it he had the name of each route, the
number of the route, where it started from, and where it went to,
the name of the contractor, the amount per year, the name of the
subcontractor, the amount per year, and then a column showing whether
it had been increased, and, if so, how much, and whether it had been
expedited, and, if so, how much. He had that book. He says he was
subpoenaed to appear before the Congressional committee. What book would
that committee want? They would want the book that showed the original
contracts, the subcontracts, the description of the routes, how much the
Government paid to the contractor, and how much the contractor paid to
the subcontractor. That was the book they wanted, and that was the book
to hide if any hiding was to be done. That was the book to have copied.
That was the book in which figures should have been changed, if in any.
And yet he never said one word about that route-book. He had it in his
possession. Why should he not expect the committee of Congress to call
for that book? He did not tell you. He did not have that book copied,
and yet that was the book that had in it every particle of information
that the Congressional committee wanted. Not a word on that subject.
It appears, too, in the evidence, that Mr. Rerdell had in his possession
certain notes that passed between him and Mr. Steele about the red
books. Why were not those notes produced in evidence? Mr. Steele
was here on the subpoena of the Government. Why were not those notes
produced in evidence? Not a word about that. Is it possible that those
notes were about the route-book? Why were they not produced? Rerdell
went before that Congressional committee. He did not take any
route-book. What did he take? He said that he had these books made up to
take. Did they contain the accounts of the subcontractors? No. Donnelly
swears there were not more than twelve accounts in the book. What was
the use of taking that book, or those books, before the committee?
Another thing: He says that he went immediately and got those books
copied. Would he try to palm off the copies as originals? Would not the
committee ask him the very first thing, "In whose handwriting are these
books?" He could not say, "They are in mine," because then he would be
caught. He would have to say, "They are in Mr. Donnelly's handwriting."
The next question would be, "Where is Mr. Donnelly?" And the answer
would be, "Here in town." The committee would send for him and would
ask, "Mr. Donnelly, did you write in those books?" "Yes." "Did you make
the entries at the time they purport to have been made?" "No, sir; I
copied them from another set of books that Mr. Rerdell gave to me."
He would either say that or swear to a lie. Then they would say, "Mr.
Rerdell, we want the original books," and then he would be caught. You
cannot imagine a more shallow device. More than that, the books would
not have any information that the committee wanted, nothing about these
contracts, and nothing about the amount paid the subcontractors. If the
committee wanted anything they wanted to show that the Government
was paying a large price and the contractors were paying to the
subcontractors a small price. Rerdell says that when he was subpoenaed
to bring his books he never thought of the route-book. He thought of
the red books, and yet the route-book was the only book that had any
information that the committee wanted. How was he to palm that off? Is
it possible to think of a reason having in it less probability, less
weight, less human nature than the reason he gives for having those
books copied? There is another question. If Rerdell expected to palm
off the copies as the originals, why did he keep the originals? For
instance. I have a book here that I don't want Congress to see, and so I
have it copied.
I am going to swear that that copy is the original; otherwise the device
is good for nothing. Why keep the original and run the perpetual danger
of discovery? Why not burn the original? Why keep the evidence of my own
guilt, liable to be found at any moment by accident, by a servant, by
a stranger? That is not human nature, gentlemen. Then there is another
question: If he were going to have a book copied and then swear that the
copy was the original, he would have copied it himself. If a man intends
to swear to a lie the first thing he does is not to take somebody into
the secret. Why should he have put himself in the power of Donnelly? He
was the man to be the witness before the committee, and if his device
worked he intended to swear before the committee that the copies were
the originals; and yet, by going to Donnelly to have the work done, he
manufactured a witness that would always stand ready to prove that he,
Rerdell, had sworn to a falsehood. What men work in that way? When a man
makes up his mind to swear to a lie does he take pains to go to one of
his neighbors and say, "I am going to swear to a lie to-morrow and I
want to give you the evidence of it. I am going to swear that a copy
is an original. I want you to make the copy so that I can swear to it."
Would not the neighbor then say, "I will be a witness against you in
that case. You had better copy it yourself." Just see what he did. He
took pains to have a witness so that if he swore falsely he could be
contradicted and convicted. Why did he not copy the books himself? After
he got the originals copied why did he not burn up the originals so that
nobody could ever find them in his possession?
Let us take another step. Finally, he got before the committee. When he
got before the committee what did he swear? He swore that he kept some
expense-books showing how he stood with the contractors. I think that
was the truth. I think that is what he did keep. He did not tell the
committee about the route-book. Not a word. That was the only book that
he concealed in his testimony. He said he kept some expense-books and
those were all that he kept. He did not tell about the route-book. That
is the only book that he failed to mention. Consequently, it seems to
me, that was the only book he did not want to show. Why? Because he
thought at that time they were going to make a great outcry about
what was paid to the subcontractor and to the contractor and he had no
advices from anybody, except from whom? Except from Mr. Bosler. What did
Bosler tell him? Bosler told him, "I see no reason why you should not
exhibit your books and papers." Now, according to Rerdell's testimony,
on the 13th of May the year before, Dorsey had written a letter to
Bosler informing him that he had given twenty thousand dollars to T. J.
B. Bosler knew, if the testimony of Rerdell is true, that that letter
had been written, and Bosler had that information. He knew if the letter
had been copied, too, because every letter that one receives gives
evidence whether it has been copied or not. And yet, knowing of that
letter, he wrote to Rerdell or telegraphed him that he saw no reason
why he should not show all his books and papers. Nobody believes that.
Nobody ever will believe it! The earth may revolve in its orbit for
millions of years, and generations may come and go, countless as the
leaves of all the forests, and there never will be found a man of
average intelligence to believe that story. Just think of it. Bosler,
according to the testimony of Rerdell, had gone into partnership with
Dorsey knowing there was a conspiracy, knowing Dorsey was paying
to Brady thirty-three and one-third per cent, of the profits, and
thereupon the clerk who attended to the business writes or telegraphs to
him, and says he has been subpoenaed to appear before the Congressional
committee with the books and papers, and Mr. Bosler knowing of
the existence of the conspiracy, and knowing that Brady is getting
thirty-three and one-third per cent, writes or telegraphs back that he
sees no reason why all the books and papers should not be presented to
the committee. Gentlemen, that is impossible; it never happened and it
never will.
Ah, but they say these books did exist. Why? Because Mr. Donnelly copied
them. Let us see whether he did or not. There is nothing like examining
these questions. Mr. Rerdell says that in his interview with Brady,
Brady suggested to him that he had better have them copied. This, I
believe, was on the 21st of May, 1880. Now he swears that in accordance
with that view or suggestion that he received from Brady he had the
books copied by Donnelly. When did he have it done? He had it done after
the 21st day of May, 1880. On page 2638 Donnelly swears that he copied
these books in the latter part of April or the forepart of May. On page
2636, where he was asked if he had anything to do with copying a book of
accounts for Rerdell, he says that he had; and on being asked what kind
of books they were, says they were a small set of books. Donnelly swears
that they related to the mail business, and seemed to be the books of
a firm. At that time nobody was interested in the matter except S. W.
Dorsey. How did they appear to be the books of a firm? Donnelly swears,
on page 2640, "there were not more than a dozen accounts in the book."
Let us see if these were the mail books. He says there was an account
against S. W. Dorsey; that is one. An account against John W. Dorsey;
that is two. Against Donnelly himself; that is three. M. C. Rerdell;
that is four. Interest account; five. A mail account; six. An expense
account; seven. A profit and loss account, eight; and an account with
William Smith, nine. That is all he gives. But he says they were not
to exceed a dozen. On page 2644 Gibbs says there was an account against
Colonel Steele and Mrs. Steele. I take it they would be in one account.
That makes ten. Then there was an account against Jennings, making
eleven; and an account against Perkins, making twelve. Let us see if we
can go a little further. Mr. Rerdell swears to a cash account; that is
thirteen. Also an account against J. H. Mitchell; that is fourteen; and
one against Belford, making fifteen. You can deduct your Jones and your
Smith and have one more account in the book then than Donnelly swears
was in it. He swears they were not to exceed a dozen. That was the book
with all this mail business. We will follow it up a little. Rerdell says
he opened the books according to the memorandum, and swears consequently
that there was a cash account and an account with J. H. Mitchell. J. B.
Belford, I believe, he afterwards mentioned. Now, according to Gibb's
testimony there was an account with Perkins. Understand I say that the
only book he had, if he had any, was a private book in which he kept
his own expense accounts and his own matters, and it was not a book with
which Stephen W. Dorsey had any connection. I say that the William
Smith and Samuel Jones account he has added for the purpose of having
something to sell to the Government. That is my claim. I say they were
his private books. There was an account with Perkins. You have heard all
the testimony, gentlemen. You know all the contracts in this case. You
know all the subcontracts. There is not a single solitary account in
this book with any subcontractor mentioned in any of these subcontracts
except Perkins and possibly Jennings. Who was Perkins? Perkins was a
subcontractor on the route from Rawlins to White River. That is the
route that Rerdell had an interest in himself.
Rerdell made the subcontract with Perkins himself, and consequently he
had an account with Perkins in his own private book, and had not any
account with the rest of the subcontractors. We also find, according to
Gibbs, that there was an account against Jennings. Who was Jennings?
That brings us to the Jennings's claim. That is the claim that he told
Mr. Woodward about, when he wanted to sell out in the first place, and
that is the claim that he told Mac-Veagh and the Postmaster-General
about. Strangely enough and wonderfully enough we find that claim in
this very book. That shows whether this was a private book or whether it
was a book kept for the accounts of Dorsey.
Now, by looking at the Post-Office reports I find that nine hundred and
ninety-four dollars was paid to Rerdell for Jennings on the 14th day of
April, 1880, and the question I ask is did he keep two sets of books
at that time? He produced in court a book of his own, kept at that
time with the Jennings account in it. The book that was copied had the
Perkins account, and why? Because it was a special account in which
Rerdell was interested. They have failed to prove that there was in
that other book any account in which Dorsey was necessarily interested,
except the account kept with Rerdell showing Rerdell's transactions with
Dorsey.
We now come to the testimony of Mr. Gibbs. Mr. Gibbs says his wife
copied a journal between Christmas, 1879, and the 1st of March, 1880.
Rerdell says that she copied the journal and ledger both. The witness,
Gibbs, gives the color of the book. He says it was not red; it was
either brown or black. Mr. Gibbs remembers nothing about the Smith
account, whether it was large or whether it was small. He finally swears
that he does not really recollect anything about it, except that Rerdell
brought the book there and said he wanted to get a copy made to send
to Dorsey in New York, and that he returned the book and the copy to
Rerdell. He swears that he remembers as names in this book Smith, Jones,
and S. W. Dorsey, and M. C. Rerdell. Those were all he could think of.
He does not remember the name of John H. Mitchell. On page 2646, he says
he believes that Rerdell came to him and asked him during the trial
if he recollected the name of William Smith, and he swears that when
Rerdell asked him if he recollected the name of William Smith, he
distinctly told him that he did not. Then he asked him if he recollected
the name of Jones, and he swears that he told Rerdell when he asked him
that question that he did not. I read from page 2646: