SOME FAMOUS TOMBS PRISONERS
During its long and eventful history the Tombs has had many notable
prisoners. It would be impossible in this brief sketch to do justice to
this subject by giving a full and detailed account of the deeds and
escapades of these persons. But the men of money and influence who have
had the misfortune to be sent to the City Prison have always fared well.
Although it is not always the case, the rich and poor in such a place
should be treated with becoming fairness and moderation, not simply
because they are rich or poor, but the law presumes a man to be innocent
till his guilt is proved beyond a reasonable doubt. It is well known
that a great many people are sent to the Tombs every year on trumped up
charges. As they are not criminals, it would be manifestly improper to
deny them the deserved consideration to which every uncondemned man is
entitled in this enlightened age.
In dealing with this subject we shall only mention the names of a few
well known persons.
In 1842 the Tombs had a prisoner named Monroe Edwards; he is said to
have been one of the most noted and boldest of all round forgers of the
time. He had plenty of money and lived more like a prince than a
prisoner. He was able to engage the most eminent counsel in his behalf.
His wardrobe was the finest and most expensive that money could buy. He
was allowed to furnish his cell in an elegant manner. Lady friends and
admirers called upon him daily and brought bouquets and cut flowers in
abundance, all of which he was permitted to receive, on the ground that
the law presumed him innocent till found guilty. There must have been
many abuses in the Tombs in those days, perhaps as glaring as those that
exist to-day. For example, Edwards received other gifts from his lady
friends besides flowers and knick-knacks for his cell. These consisted
of a set of highly tempered steel saws for iron work, a silk rope
ladder, grappling irons and a horse pistol. These were to be used to
enable him to make good his escape, if he so desired. As soon as the
Warden learned that he possessed these things, he went to his cell and
made a demand of Edwards for their surrender. After they were
confiscated many of Edwards’ privileges were cut off.
John Scannel, a Tammany politician, having filled a number of offices
within the City Government, but who more recently was Fire Commissioner
during Mayor Van Wyck’s administration, was an inmate of the Tombs in
the fall of 1871.
On September 19th of that year he shot Thomas Donohue whom he supposed
to have been the man who had assaulted his brother Florence. The charge
against him was homicide. But like many other Tammany officials, he had
a tremendous “pull” and was soon afterwards admitted to bail in the sum
of $20,000. He was finally cleared.
The Tombs’ authorities have always been indulgent to the men who lived
on “Murderers’ Row.” The foolish idea that comes down through the ages,
which pictures the murderer resting on a pallet of straw with a chain
around his neck, has certainly never been experienced in the Tombs.
Twenty years ago and even later, nearly all the cells on Murderers’ Row
received bouquets of flowers almost every morning. And some of them had
bird cages, swinging shelves, lace curtains, carpets and draperies. When
you entered such a cell, your feet did not touch the stone floor, but a
rug or a Kidderminister. And the prisoner—he usually wore an elegant
dressing gown, silk slippers and beautiful clothing; he is shaved and
groomed daily; when he sleeps it is on a real bed of comfort. When the
old prison was yet standing, every afternoon after he had made his
toilet and was booted and gloved he walked into the yard for a stroll.
Between four and five o’clock he dines; he never ate prison fare. His
food came from the outside and consisted of a variety of dishes, such as
oysters, quail, clams, fish, fowl, roast beef and vegetables—the best
the market could provide, that is, for rich prisoners. The poor crooks
had to be content with prison fare and take “pot luck.”
On January 6th, 1872, at 4:30 p. m., Edward S. Stokes shot and killed
James Fisk, Jr., in the Broadway Central Hotel. After the coroner had
committed Stokes to the Tombs, he was assigned to Cell 43 on “Murderers’
Row,” which was situated on the western side of the second tier. Soon
after coming to the City Prison he was allowed to fix up his cell in a
most lavish manner; for example, he was permitted to put a hard finish
on the walls of his cell, fit it with several fine pieces of furniture,
pictures on the walls, damask curtains and Turkish rugs galore! He was
permitted to build a walnut toilet stand in his cell. He was also
allowed the use of the yard whenever he desired and to walk about
unmolested. The graft paid in those days for such liberties, must have
been enormous as he had more privileges than any ten men.
It is also said that Stokes had a large room on the Centre Street side
of the old prison where he received his friends who called on him daily.
It was here that he ate the choicest cuts, the best turkeys the market
could furnish, and where he and his friends regaled themselves with the
best champagne and claret, and smoked the finest cigars. It is also said
by men now living that Stokes often attended the Bowery theatre
accompanied, of course, by a couple of keepers, who danced attendance on
him—all of which cost money.
Stokes was tried for murder three times. At the close of the first two
trials he was convicted of murder in the first degree and sentenced to
be hanged. At the close of the last trial he was convicted of
manslaughter and sentenced to Sing Sing for four years.
Richard Croker, all round Tammany Hall leader and politician for many
years, alderman and at the time of his involuntary confinement in the
Tombs a city coroner, shot and killed John McKenna at Second Avenue and
34th Street, November 3rd, 1874. The shot that killed McKenna was
intended for Ex-Senator James O’Brian, a brother of Inspector Steve
O’Brian. It is said while an inmate of the Tombs Croker had the
privilege of leaving the building and returning when he pleased. How
true this was nobody could tell, but others who were able to pay for it
had the same privileges since that time. Money and other influences have
always been a tremendous power in the Tombs Prison.
Ferdinand Ward, bank president and bank looter, who stole no less than
$2,000,000 from the Marine Bank and eventually ruined General Grant,
spent some months in the Tombs and was finally sent to Sing Sing for a
term of years.
Erastus Wyman, a well-to-do Staten Island Real Estate operator, lay in
the Tombs for many months. He had a hard fight against a horde of
persecutors who sought his ruin. His case went to the Court of Appeals,
where he received a new trial. He was never tried again.
Another rich banker—I well remember him—was Cornelius L. Alvord. He got
away with more than $700,000 from the First National Bank.
He was in a cell in Murderers’ Row, in the old prison. While there he
ate the best food and smoked the finest cigars till he took up his abode
in Sing Sing. His sentence was seven and one-half years.
Roland Burnham Molineux, a popular young man, was arrested February 2nd,
1899.
He lay in the Tombs about nine months before the first trial. Mr.
Molineux was plucky, courageous and optimistic. It is needless to say he
made many friends, all of whom were glad when he received his liberty.
In manners he was a perfect gentleman, courteous and obliging to all.
While in the Tombs he was very kind to his fellow unfortunates and
frequently fed, clothed and shod needy prisoners at his own expense.
Then there were Fritz Meyer, Carlyle Harris, Doc. Kennedy, and Patrick,
besides, lawyers, doctors, bankers, insurance agents and walking
delegates without number.
Harry Kendall Thaw, a native of Pittsburg, Pa., a multi-millionaire,
shot and killed Stanford White while in Madison Square roof garden June
6th, 1906. He lay in the Tombs over ten months. His first trial lasted
nearly three months. His immense wealth brought around him an army of
friends who flattered him night and day—for his money. While in the
Tombs he had unusual privileges, all of which he doubtless paid for
highly. Physically his imprisonment made him a new man. His defence is
said to have cost him a million dollars. He came from a first class
family.
At his second trial the Demosthenes of the Brooklyn Bar, Littlefield,
successfully defended him and saved him from the Electric Chair. His
mother, who is known as a lovely Christian lady, visited him regularly
during his confinement. Thaw is at present in Matteawan. He has made
several efforts to secure his freedom but has failed. The general
opinion is that if he keeps at it he will succeed.
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