SCENES IN OUR POLICE COURTS
As is well known, the Police Court is the sorting Criminal Bureau of the
city, where the murderer, highwayman, thief and burglar come to be
classified. It is here that the criminal is confronted with the visible
forms of law, and where the evidences of his guilt become so convincing
as to be conclusive. All over the five Boroughs of Greater New York, the
Magistrates sit in rotation in the various courts.
Every morning the police gather their prisoners into the court “pens,”
where the Magistrate presides. After this, the prisoner is placed at the
bar, where he is compelled to answer the question whether he is guilty
or not guilty? In all of these courts, the wheels of justice move
swiftly against wrongdoers, and frequently so fast that the innocent has
a chance of being locked up for several days, without redress.
No one can be a spectator of what transpires in these petty courts
during a morning session, without being deeply impressed, not only with
the character of the business done, but the variety of the persons that
come before the court. That the proceedings are genuinely realistic goes
without saying. The work done in the Tombs Police Court may be taken as
a fair example of what is done elsewhere, although it usually does twice
as much business as is done in any other court in Greater New York.
The Magistrate’s Courts are supposed to be open for business as early as
nine a. m. and continue in session till four p. m. Sundays and holidays
are excepted, when there is only a morning session. Through the earnest
work of Judge Whitman, a Night Court has been established in Manhattan,
for the purpose of putting the professional bondsman out of business!
Lawyers are not necessary on either side in the Police Court, as the
dignity of His Honor can be maintained and the interests of both sides
conserved without a paid attorney. In some courts, a big crook with a
crowd of ward politicians around him, has a splendid chance of getting
clear, while the innocent moneyless unfortunate gets scarcely any
consideration.
Powerful moneyed interests and political gamblers when brought to court
and backed by an array of counsel known to the judge are sure to get
some consideration. But this is what might be expected, and often
strange things take place in the Police Court.
“The law condemns the man or woman
Who steals the goose from off the Common;
But lets the greater felon loose,
Who steals the Common from the goose.”
The political “pull” has always been a power when exercised either by a
Tammany judge or a “reformer,” as the supporters of both classes do
their best to help their friends and spite their enemies! A few years
ago I succeeded in closing a notorious gin mill in the lower part of the
city, but not till I laid the matter before the Police Commissioner.
Finally the law breaker was arrested and taken to the Tombs Court, where
he pleaded not guilty. After a brief examination, the Tammany Magistrate
discharged him, when he learned that the police went to the saloon on
Sunday morning, and were admitted as sailors, with oilskins over their
heads. Both Commissioners McAdoo and Bingham have criticised the
Magistrates for discharging guilty crooks who ought to have been sent to
prison.
Not a great while ago, a religious editor went to a reform Magistrate
whom he had known in connection with charity work, and secured the
discharge of an old crook that ought to have been sent to Sing Sing. The
preacher told me afterwards that the work had to be done not in open
court, but in the inner sanctum. If the reporters knew what had taken
place, said this man, both of us would have been “roasted.” Investigator
Mitchell has been able to unearth many things that would not stand the
light of day. But they are done with the best intentions.
Here is a sample of Police Court realism:
“Patrick McShane,” said the Magistrate to a Hibernian defendant;
“Patrick, what have you to say for yourself?” “I was not drunk, Your
Honor,” said Paddy; “I was only sick.” “Loan the city two dollars, and
go in peace,” said the Magistrate.
“Mickey Maguire, what have you to say for yourself?” “The officer found
you trying to converse with a lamp post at one a. m. What was the matter
with you?” Mickey replied, “Well, Your Honor, I am a fireman on the City
of Rome and me ship goes out to-morrow.” “Discharged,” said the Judge.
But Maguire was an old time liar. He had only been liberated from the
Tombs the day before by the help of a missionary, who put him on a
Pennsylvania ferry boat with the intention of going to see a “fake”
brother-in-law in Trenton, N. J., but Maguire returned the same night
and became helplessly drunk on West Street and was then “run in” by a
cop. Keeper John Smith was in court at the time and saw the whole
transaction and almost fell over in a faint when he heard Maguire tell
so many lies to gain his liberty.
The common drunk and disorderly cases are frequently disposed of with
lightning rapidity in most of police courts. Sometimes fifty and even
seventy-five cases come before the Magistrate at a morning sitting,
besides a dozen of felony cases that must receive a large amount of
attention before he is able to arrive at the truth and decide whether he
can send the prisoner to the grand jury or discharge him.
There is a woman with a child in her arms who charges her husband with
non-support. Both use strong drink and are to blame for making the home
a pandemonium. The magistrate tries to have them go home and stop
drinking, for if the husband is sent to prison, what will become of the
children? They return home to do better.
Here is a boy, sixteen years old, charged with stealing two pounds of
old lead, worth about seven cents. The magistrate tries to settle the
case with honor to both parties. The complainant refuses. He insists on
“Shylock” justice. Finally the lad is sent to the Boys’ Prison in the
Tombs. Poor boy, his career is blasted for two pounds of old lead, all
because the hard hearted complainant shows no mercy!
Frequently there are lined up in the magistrate’s court thirty to forty
bleared-eyed, disheveled hair, filthy, tipsy men and women, the
offscourings of the city—made so by the city gin mill! I have often
asked why the wise sages that run our Legislature do not put the whiskey
and beer shops out of business, which would end most of the wretched
scenes found in our police courts.
A frequent matter of injustice in our police courts is the treatment
accorded the Italian, Greek and Jewish peddlers and push cart men.
Although they are licensed by the city and compelled to carry a badge,
hardly a day goes by without a score of them being hauled to court on
the most flimsy charge. Indeed, every obstacle is put in their way to
prevent them from earning an honest dollar. The city ordinance prevents
them from standing more than ten minutes in one place. Often they are
arrested before they are five minutes in a place. If you stand around
Park Row you can see a dozen of these men picked up daily, while the
notorious pool rooms and gambling hells of the city are in full blast.
Intoxication and disorderly conduct cases receive the least
consideration. And then everything depends on what the policeman says
against the defendant, but the presumption is that he is guilty. What we
object to is that the magistrate allows the officer to whisper something
into his ear, that the defendant knows nothing whatever about and is not
related to the case, but that thing is usually the basis of the
sentence. I hope that the day will come when the officer that makes the
arrest will place the rum-seller at the bar with the “drunk” and make
him responsible for the “output” of his own saloon. Indeed, whenever a
policeman finds a “drunk” within a hundred feet of a saloon, it should
be his duty to arrest the saloon-keeper who sold the liquor. Why not? As
the officer on post gets all his “drinks” free at the saloon, which is
only bribery in a mild form, it would be manifestly improper for him to
give any other testimony in the proceedings other than favorable to the
rum-seller, and this makes his relation to the case nothing short of a
scandal! Almost every day some persons are robbed and flim-flammed in
scores of city saloons. If they offer any protest or even ask for the
return of their money they are forthwith “fired” to the street.
Sometimes the victim is beaten into insensibility and left bleeding on
the sidewalk. Soon a policeman comes along. He arrests the victim and
makes a charge of intoxication or disorderly conduct against him. But,
strange to say, nothing is done to the saloon-keeper and his assassins.
The bloated gin-mill keeper is allowed to continue his business
unmolested, and he waits for more victims. Good hearted people, and even
ministers of the gospel, waste a lot of “gush” on the poor, persecuted
saloon keeper, all of which is entirely uncalled for.
Strong drink is the cause of more than two-thirds of all the business
transacted in the police courts. If we could only do away with this
curse there would be little work left for the magistrates.
Some of our magistrates show wretched judgment in handling the “down and
out” unfortunates that frequent the police courts. Indeed, several sages
of the “reform brand” act strange in dealing with beginners as well as
habituals. With one or two magistrates almost every victim is sure of
six months on the island and there is little or no discrimination. If
this is what New York’s famous District Attorney had in mind when he
said: “To h—— with reform,” it seems to me he was justified in using the
expression. It is nothing short of a parody on justice to send a poor
laboring man or mechanic, the victim of the ubiquitous gin-mill, to
prison for six months for simple intoxication. For, as a rule, while he
is in prison, getting three square meals a day such as they are, his
wife and children are starving to death by slow process at home.
Judge Rosalsky recently discharged two men in General Sessions and
scored the magistrate for such a foolish sentence. There are, however,
honorable exceptions. Some of our magistrates are very humane and show
excellent judgment in dealing with such persons. It seems to me that
several Tammany magistrates who have come up from the common people and
live in touch with them, show remarkable good sense in dealing with the
“drunk and disorderly” cases that come before them.
It seems to me that Magistrates Finn and Breen, and for that matter
several others, show good sense in dealing with unfortunates. Instead of
sending every man “up” for six months, as some reform judges do, they
fine them a dollar and after they are sobered, let them go. To stay a
night in the stifling cell of a station house is punishment enough for
any man. Such magistrates are certainly merciful, and do much to help
the man fallen by the way!
One other magistrate who seems to possess the judicial mind, always
careful, painstaking and just toward the unfortunate, is Judge Mayo,
when he was a City Magistrate. He is now a Special Session Judge, and as
I watched the proceedings in the Children’s Court, some time ago, where
he presided, I saw that he still holds his good qualities!
Another gentleman for whom I always entertained the highest regard was
Magistrate Poole. I liked him for his open and sterling qualities and
often wished that more of his kind might adorn the magistrate’s bench. I
never knew him to turn down a genuine case of mercy in the hour of need.
[Illustration:
Old Police Headquarters, 300 Mulberry Street, N. Y. City.]
[Illustration:
The Bridge of Sighs, which connects the Tombs
with the criminal court building.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------