CRIMINAL TRIALS AND THE GLORIOUS UNCERTAINTY OF THE LAW
Celebrated Cases—Speedy Trials for Homicides—Lax
Conditions of Our Courts—Greasing the Machinery
of the Law—Crooks at the Bar—A Noted
Criminal Lawyer—Strange Sentences
Almost every year, New York witnesses a noted criminal trial, which
frequently becomes a sensation in the community. For weeks beforehand
the newspapers give an excruciating account of all the horrors of the
case—involving the past history of the defendant; nor do they fail to
drag in his father, mother, uncles and aunts, besides his business
relations. When the day of trial comes, if the defendant happens to be
at the bar for murder or some other noted crime, all the sickening
details are re-hashed in the evening and morning papers. Sometimes the
trial lasts from one week to three months, dragging itself slowly along,
till everybody in the city becomes disgusted. All this, of course, is
distinctively American, and as the people call for it, they are sure to
get it. The New York editors are great literary caterers, and seem to
know how to satisfy such depraved tastes. It has come to be an admitted
fact that a criminal trial in New York is a most exciting experience,
and for a time stirs the community, making it the main topic of interest
at meals, clubs and society gatherings.
[Illustration:
Criminal Branch of the Supreme Court on Centre Street, where the great
murder trials of the past decade took place.]
To watch the selection of the jury, and see panel after panel of
intelligent men excused on the flimsiest grounds, is enough to make the
Goddess of Justice open her eyes and weep.
During the past twelve years we have witnessed some of the most tragic
murder trials in the history of the New York Bar, in which money and
brains were used on both sides. When Roland B. Molineux, Dr. Kennedy,
Albert T. Patrick and Harry K. Thaw were placed on trial, the courts
were thronged daily with gaping crowds of men and women, breaking their
necks to get a look at the defendants, and using all sorts of “pulls” to
secure a seat in the court.
And as the jury is called and examined one by one, to read their real
character as depicted on their faces when they take their seats to
decide the fate of some weakling, a good judge of human nature can
readily discern the result of the trial long before it is finished.
Then, listen to the testimony that is presented; hear the lawyers
wrangle for and against the prisoner, and, finally, watch the judge as
he charges the jury, and then see the prisoner as he stands at the bar
for sentence or acquittal. All this becomes a fearfully interesting
piece of realism.
But the glorious uncertainty of the law leaves so many loopholes for the
real criminal to escape punishment, and the innocent to get a term of
imprisonment, that some of the rulings made in our courts are tragic
enough to make angels weep.
Some time ago, a rich murderer was tried in this city. His defence was
one that no Court in the land recognizes, viz.: the unwritten law.
During the trial, one medical expert said that the defendant suffered
from “brain storms.” In a more recent murder trial, the only defence
offered was “Confusional Insanity,” all of which is simply a foolish way
of trying to “beat” the case.
We could name a dozen of well known characters whose crimes have been
heralded all over the land, who were sent to the death house, but after
a couple of years, when the Court of Appeals decided that they should
have another trial on a mere technicality, returned to the Tombs, and
after a few abortive efforts to convict them a second time, were
liberated, as the important witnesses were dead, or could not be found.
It is difficult to say wherein lies the trouble. But with our present
elective system, we are apt to get some very poor material as Judges.
They lack educational and experimental qualifications. Nor can we
abolish the right of appeal because some judges make foolish rulings.
With such judicial material on the bench, the right of appeal is our
only safety valve, and must be retained.
There is a widespread feeling in our day that many trials are only a
huge farce, and the “unwritten law,” “benefit of the doubt,” and
“long-drawn-out hypothetical questions” in a large number of cases are
allowed to defeat the ends of justice.
In regard to homicides, nothing would appeal to the good sense of the
community after an atrocious murder has been committed more than to give
the murderer a speedy trial and summary justice. It is all “humbug” to
keep a murderer shut up in the Tombs from six months to a year before
trying him. When he goes forth to trial, if the witnesses are not all
dead, they have forgotten nearly all of what was once fresh in their
memory. Let there be speedy trials and quick punishment for all kinds of
crime. This will deter others from following the footsteps of evil
doers. In murder cases it would be well also if capital punishment were
abolished, and life imprisonment substituted.
In nearly all the advanced countries of Europe, in criminal trials,
swift justice is the order of the day.
In Great Britain there are no long-drawn-out trials. Nor will the judges
allow delays on mere technicalities. Each case is decided on its own
merits.
As a rule, the presiding judge exercises full control over the case, and
as a result everything is done with quickness and dispatch, and the
higher courts uphold such rulings.
In speaking of the lax conditions of our courts, a recent writer says:
“The machinery of our courts seems to be passing slowly and inevitably
into disrepute. Processes wrought out by wise and noble-minded men for
the protection of life and property and the dispensation of justice,
have been seized upon again and again by unscrupulous pettifoggers, and
every technicality of the entire legal procedure has been converted into
a loophole through which some scalawag has escaped. The country swarms
with unhung murderers, and with thieves who walk the streets at noon
unmanacled, who ought to be wearing striped suits inside of prison
walls. When murder trials drag their weary lengths through the
disgusting weeks and months of the year, only to end at last in a new
trial, or in a pardon issued by some sentimental fool who has reached
the Governor’s chair, is it to be wondered at that hot-headed men lose
respect for statutes and judges and begin to talk of taking the law into
their own hands? It is high time that our judges and lawyers were awake,
and took measures to reform the present processes of criminal
jurisprudence so as to make the punishment of crime both swift and
certain.”
It is a great mistake to shield rich criminals from their just desserts,
as is sometimes done. Punishment should be meted out to all alike at all
hazards, else it will have no terrors for the wrongdoer. Criminals must
be impressed with the dignity and majesty of the law—no matter what is
their social or commercial standing.
A few years ago, Roland B. Molineux had a hard battle for his liberty.
He was always brave and optimistic, and believed all alone that in the
end he would be vindicated. He must have spent about twenty months in
the Tombs, and the same length of time in the death house awaiting the
decision of the Court of Appeals. As I had always taken a deep interest
in the young man, I called to see him in the death house. Here he
manifested the same hopeful spirit he had shown all along. During his
long confinement it looked sometimes as if fate was conspiring against
him, but thanks to his gritty father, who stuck so nobly by him, and the
matchless eloquence of Governor Black, the undisputed Demosthenes of the
New York Bar, he was finally acquitted. In this trial, which was fairly
conducted, Governor Black was master of the situation, and conquered.
From this time, either in civil or criminal trials, the Governor was the
peer of any lawyer in the land. It must also be said that there was
another gentleman, who filled no inconspicuous part in the vindication
of Molineux, and that was Judge Olcott, who was a peacemaker and
diplomat of the highest order.
Greasing the Machinery of the Law
Frequently the prosecutor in a criminal court, under the cloak of having
a duty to perform, proceeds to do it with the vengeance of a fiend, and
the bias and prejudice of a persecutor, and perhaps with murder in his
heart.
Nor are we without numerous instances where the prosecutor or some of
his assistants have been known to “gear” the machinery of the law so as
to convict some unfortunate of a crime of which there was absolutely no
evidence, except what was manufactured for the occasion. In doing such
work, the police can always be relied upon for a certain amount of help,
which they never fail to give. Then there is in every community certain
degenerates, including emotional and hysterical men and women, ready to
swear to anything asked of them, and who spring into fame during a
sensational trial, not to mention the professional juror who draws two
dollars a day for sitting around the court house, who is largely
dependent on the public prosecutor for his sinecure.
There are thousands of people who all their lives have been the victims
of cruelty, oppression and malicious persecution, but real justice they
have not known. There are innocent men in nearly all of our penal
institutions, who have suffered because of false swearers. They may
appeal to an Executive, even a righteous one, who has so many
intolerable conscientious scruples on the question of pardoning crooks
that the poor, friendless prisoner is allowed to rot in prison, so that
the righteous Governor may make no mistake.
But the innocent have this consolation, that their case has been sent up
to Heaven’s Court of Appeals, where in God’s good time a just verdict
will be rendered in their favor.
But what a crime it is to send an unfortunate to the Electric Chair, or
State Prison for life, or even a limited term in jail, on manufactured
evidence or opinions of an alienist, or a handwriting expert, who are
given large fees for their testimony! Handwriting experts have made so
many mistakes in the past that it is absolutely impossible to believe
them. They may think themselves famous as interpreters of dots, curves,
right angles and horizontal lines, but they cannot positively tell
whether John Doe or John Jones wrote the document, and human opinions
are not evidence. It is certainly a miscarriage of justice to convict
any man or woman on such absurd testimony. If you have plenty of money,
you can prove anything you please by the use of such expert testimony,
or disprove it. But without the most absolute corroboration, expert
testimony is worthless.
Crooks at the Bar of Justice
The day of judgment for New York criminals usually falls on Friday. It
not only brings many surprises, but hidden things long forgotten are
brought to light. Between the day of a man’s conviction and the day when
sentence is passed, the officers of the law have an opportunity to look
up his record, and report him in the true light to the judge. When he
comes to the bar for sentence, the court has his life mapped out on
paper. As soon as the judge begins to question the prisoner, his
character for truthfulness is put to the test. Crooks who are as a rule
notorious liars have poor memories. No matter how cumulative their guilt
is, they are always innocent!
It is interesting to watch the proceedings when some scamp has come up
for sentence. A good deal of stage work is done in Court for the effect
it has on those present. The female relatives are on hand, weeping like
steam engines, while the prisoner at the bar, who has made many
promises, is as hard as a stone. Some of the men up for sentence are
salesmen, confidential clerks and secretaries, who, when they lose at
the races, steal big sums from their employers, and then have their
friends “pull social and political wires” to get them out of their
troubles; while the poor mechanic or day laborer who steals eight or ten
dollars to keep the wolf from the door, has not a friend in the world,
and usually gets a “soaking” when he comes to the bar. Perhaps his wife
or mother has been to see the judge at his home, where she has created a
“scene,” but it has done no good; he has got to go to prison. Not long
since, Judge Cowing, one of the best of the General Session judges (now
retired), said to a young man who had been before him on two former
occasions: “You have been in Elmira and Sing Sing, and here you are
again. Where are you going to end up? Your mother came to my house last
night. Poor woman, I felt
[Illustration:
Hon. JOHN F. McINTYRE.
A noted criminal lawyer]
[Illustration:
_Copyright. I. & M. Stienberg. N. Y._
Justice J. A. Blanchard]
[Illustration:
Justice J. W. Goff]
sorry for her; but you show no feeling whatever. What’s the matter with
you? If I should grant the requests of friends for everyone who has a
good mother, the people would soon ask me to retire from the bench
altogether.” This is true. The judge must send the young prodigal to
prison to deter others.
Here is what another judge said of a young man who stole $15,000 from an
employer. The firm had only charged him with stealing a much smaller
sum, but when they examined their books, they found it a small fortune.
It was spent mostly on the races. His wife and three small children were
in court, asking for clemency: “I have been on the bench,” said His
Honor, “many years, and have had many a sad case, but there is none
sadder than the one I am now called upon to dispose of. The great
trouble in such cases is that you are compelled to inflict punishment
upon people who do not deserve it—I mean the wives and children of men
charged with crime.”
Noted Criminal Lawyers
One of the most noted criminal lawyers of the New York bar for thirty or
forty years was the late William F. Howe, better known as “Bill” Howe. I
have often heard him plead eloquently at the bar, and with great
success. Howe was a typical advocate, and put his soul into his client’s
defence. He was humorous, pathetic and magnetic before a jury. When he
understood the case thoroughly he became a powerful pleader. It is said
that he frequently was moved to tears by his own eloquence, and was
always able to draw tears from the most unsympathetic jury. He was
called by a certain District Attorney “The Weeping Bill Howe.”
A story is told of Howe’s tears in connection with a case in which he
appeared for the defendant, before Recorder-Hackett. Mr. Howe had just
succeeded by his eloquence, aided by his tears, in obtaining in rapid
succession the acquittal of several men charged with homicide. The
Recorder was somewhat disgruntled. Howe entered upon the defence of a
woman charged with homicide. She was seated with her child on her knees.
While Howe was pleading for her acquittal, he was seen to scowl at his
client. She gazed at him in blank amazement. Howe moved up closer to her
and the baby. Suddenly the baby began to cry. Howe wept as the baby’s
screams suddenly ceased. Recorder Hackett looked up with a smile and
remarked: “Mr. Howe, you had better give the baby another jab with a
pin.”
Stories are told around the Criminal Courts Building of lawyers who
received retainers from well known crooks in the shape of stolen
jewelry. A lawyer who used to be a frequent visitor at the Tombs
defended a crook in return for a diamond pin which he had received for
his services. After he had convinced the jury that his client was
innocent, he wore the stolen pin in his necktie.
John F. McIntyre is one of the best of our criminal lawyers. He always
puts up a strong fight for his client. This is the one thing that
appeals to a jury. An intelligent juror can easily tell if a lawyer is
simply a “hired attorney” or a real advocate. Moore, who defended “Doc”
Kennedy, is another of that kind. When a lawyer appeals to a jury as if
he meant it, good results are sure to follow. Among a score of noted New
York criminal lawyers might be mentioned Abraham Levy and James W.
Osborne.
Strange Sentences
During many years of careful observation, I have seen some strange
sentences. If you are poor and have a mean enemy, with the aid of the
police, he can inflict great injury on you!
I knew the case of a young man, who found some worthless junk wire
outside a factory, and was sent away for a year. In the next cell was a
crook with a “record” who was aided by a cop, and a crooked lawyer. He
stole a thousand dollars. His “bit” was only six months.
Another fellow who swindled several dry goods stores out of $17,000, was
allowed to plead to petty larceny. He got off cheap—only six months.
Such travesties of justice have often been witnessed in New York.
Indeed, men and women have been known to conspire with lawyers and
others to send innocent persons to prison, and they have succeeded!
I knew well the case of John H. While he was in prison, his wife
suddenly became the friend of a certain police official. After he had
secured his liberty he was informed that he must keep away from his old
home. Soon after he was arrested, charged with a crime of which he was
entirely innocent. When he went to Part I, General Sessions, to plead, a
legal pettifogger who was sent there by this man’s wife stepped up and
informed him that he would take his case. He did so, and without
consulting him entered a plea of guilty. He was then sentenced to six
years’ imprisonment. He found out afterwards that it was a conspiracy to
get him out of the way. It was a success.
I recall the case of an Italian who was charged with the murder of his
wife. He was caught “red-handed,” and two of his children told the
coroner that they saw him do the deed. John F. McIntyre ably represented
the people, and Judge Fursman presided in the Criminal Branch of the
Supreme Court. When the case came to trial, the Italian children had
evidently been tipped off to forget all about it. As they had manifested
entire ignorance and forgetfulness of the crime, and could not remember
a word of what they told the police and the coroner, the murderer was
allowed to go scot free!
We knew a man who stole $40,000, and yet received a suspended sentence.
But this should be said, that the money was taken to save another man,
and not himself, and the deficiency was made good. Perhaps it was only
fair that the sentence be suspended. We know two young men who were in
the Boys’ Prison at the same time. One stole $10,000, the other just one
dollar. The lad that stole the ten thousand dollars had his friends make
restitution, then the complainant recommended extreme leniency. In view
of his former good character, the court gave him a suspended sentence.
The boy who stole one dollar had been in prison and was out on parole.
For this new crime he was sent to the House of Refuge.
There is the case of a young man named Sullivan, who stole a tray of
valuable jewelry from a Columbus avenue house. A morning paper commented
freely on the “pull” that gave the prisoner a suspended sentence. The
owner of the store did not relish the thief getting off so easy. In
speaking of the affair he said: “The next time a thief visits my place,
I will make no effort to bring him to justice. What is the use, if he is
let go after his guilt has been clearly established? The robbery was
carefully planned, and was well carried out. The Court should have given
the thief a medal. Why not?”
While chaplain, I was sent for by an unfortunate girl, an inmate of the
Women’s Prison. She had the usual tale of disappointment and misplaced
confidence to tell, which was full of sadness. Most girls, strangers in
New York, and far from home, have usually a hard road to travel. After I
heard her story, I remembered that there was a prominent lawyer in the
city that came from the same place of which she was a native. The
gentleman was an ex-Assistant District Attorney. I felt if I could only
get him interested in the case, she would have a better chance of
securing her liberty. I made a personal call on the gentleman. He had
spacious offices in the vicinity of Wall Street. As soon as I had
mentioned this young woman’s name, he at once recognized it. Indeed, he
had been intimate with the family for years, and was willing to do
anything for her. All of which was very encouraging. I then asked him to
make a note of the date when she came up for sentence. At my suggestion
he called one of the stenographers to make a memorandum. “Mary Ann,”
said my legal friend, “make a note of this,” and looking very pious, he
said, “I do this for the love of God; yes, I do this for the love of
God.” By this time the clerks and typewriters began to snicker and
laugh. Just as I had expected, all this pious talk did not amount to
anything. The poor girl was finally sent away to one of our
institutions.
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