A VISIT TO THE DEATH HOUSE AT SING SING
One of the never-to-be-forgotten visits of my life was the one I paid to
the Death Chamber at Sing Sing on October 11th, 1900.
The visit in question was at the request of an inmate in whom I was
deeply interested, and who was finally awarded a new trial by the Court
of Appeals.
The edifice known as the Death House is built of solid stone and is
oblong in shape. Its dimensions are 66×30. It has no windows on the
sides. The only place the light comes in is through the skylight. At
night the electric glare fills every part of it. The door is approached
through a long corridor, which is locked at night so as to make the
place doubly safe. When the Death House was first built, it contained
eight cells of solid stone and steel. Since then two more have been
added, making ten cells altogether.
Armed with an order from a Supreme Court Judge, which I presented to
Warden Johnson, I was led along corridors and passageways till I came to
the office of the principal keeper, who then took me in charge. After a
brief delay we came to the inner door which is made of steel. A dull
heavy thud from my guide, the principal keeper, brought the inside guard
to the bull’s eye. He then saw who were at the entrance without opening
the door. In a few seconds I was inside the death chamber and the steel
door was closed on me. I was then in a place the law calls a living
tomb. It was as still as the grave. Not a word was spoken in the room
above a whisper. As the shoes worn by the condemned men and keepers are
made of felt, no sound came from their movements. These felt shoes are
called “sneakers.” The law says that all persons sent to the electric
chair must be kept in solitary confinement and in silence till the
sentence of the Court is carried out.
Perhaps I ought to say that the mode of changing the death penalty from
hanging to electricity went into effect in the three State prisons of
New York in January, 1890. The electric chair was set up in Sing Sing in
the latter part of 1889, so as to be all ready the following year. On
account of the uncertainty of the law, no electrocution took place in
this prison until July 7th, 1891; then four men were electrocuted on the
same day, one after the other. The names of these men are as follows:
James J. Slocum, Harris A. Smiler, Joseph Wood and Schihiok Jugigo.
Nearly two years after the first electrocution, when the death house had
five inmates awaiting the death sentence, Osmond, George Megan, Carlyle
Harris, Thomas Pallister and Frederick W. Roche, the two latter
prisoners made good their escape from the death chambers on the night of
April 20th, 1893, and have never been seen or heard of since. These
escapes caused a great sensation at the time, as they were the most
daring that ever took place, and they seemed to be so well planned and
successfully carried out that the general belief was that a dozen of
people must have had a hand in it.
The manner of their escape from the doomed quarters was as follows: It
had always been customary since the death house was first opened for the
inmates to have food warmed at night on one of the stoves. Nor was it
uncommon for the keeper in charge to let the prisoners come out of their
cell and brew tea or coffee at midnight on a stove which stood in the
centre of the room. On the night in question, Frederick W. Roche, one of
the condemned men, requested Keeper Hulse to permit him to leave his
cell so that he might warm some tea, as he had eaten no supper. The
keeper readily acceded to his request as he had done so many times
before, not thinking that anything was wrong. Just then Roche threw a
handful of pepper into the keeper’s eyes, which almost blinded him. Then
Roche took away the keeper’s pistol and keys, and locked him in the cell
which he had just vacated and threatened to kill him if he made the
slightest disturbance.
After he had opened Pallister’s cell, he invited the other prisoners in
the chamber to accompany him, but they all declined. When he requested
Carlyle W. Harris to come with him, he politely refused, saying that as
he was innocent, he preferred to wait till the Courts gave him a
vindication. But the vindication never came, as Harris was afterwards
electrocuted, the highest Court having denied his appeal. Pallister and
Roche left the death house by way of the skylight window, then dropped
into the yard, a distance of fifteen feet. Strange to say, the yard
keeper could not be found—where was he? And stealing a boat, which was
afterwards found, they made for the river and disappeared. This looks
like a put up job!
Strange to say, these jail breakers were gone nine hours before the
authorities knew what had taken place. As soon as Warden Brown took in
the situation, he dispatched searching parties on both sides of the
river, but without the least success. He also suspended Keepers Hulse
and Murphy, and Yard Watchman Maher, and then started a searching
investigation to find out how it was possible for these criminals to get
away as they did. After the investigation, the Warden exonerated the
keepers and restored them to their positions.
Where they went to after leaving the prison, no one has ever been able
to learn. A common opinion is that they may have been drowned in the
river, as two bodies were afterwards found, but this is not sure. Most
people seem to think that a schooner was awaiting them in the middle of
the river and took them to South America, and the graft in the job
amounted to $5,000.
On the day of our visit to Sing Sing there were nine men in this doomed
building, all under sentence of death. A week before the Court of
Appeals had decided that one of the inmates, a Greek, should have a new
trial, which left a vacancy. The persons then present in the death
chamber were all well known to me except the two men from Brooklyn, who
were Italians.
The whole scene presented to my mind a grewsome spectacle. I was then in
the place for the first time, which Mr. Roland B. Molineux describes in
his book as “The Room with the Little Door.”
The eight original cells are ranged in a row side by side against the
south wall. The thick horizontal steel bars make you think of a cage of
wild beasts. In front of each cell,—perhaps a foot from the steel bars,
there is a closely woven steel wire netting which prevents a visitor
from passing anything to the condemned man, or even shaking hands with
him. All conversations must be carried on in whispers. A few doors away
there is a little room which contains the death chair. All around it
there are straps, belts and wires, which are used for fastening around
the body and legs of the condemned man when the sentence of law is about
to be carried into effect. As you again look over the audience in the
death chamber, unconsciously your blood chills and the cold sweat drops
in beads from your brow. It is a dreadful place. Human beings waiting
for the slaughter!
Here are the names of the inmates I saw that day: Roland Burham
Molineux, Dr. Kennedy, Eddie Wise, Jim Mullen, Fritz Meyer, William
Newfeldt and Druggist Priora.
The two condemned men from Brooklyn, Ferraro and Zigwers, I did not know
and had no particular interest in them except one of pity.
I came that day to see Mr. Molineux, whom I had known in the Tombs as a
courteous gentleman and one that everybody liked. It seems almost
unnecessary to say that he received me with his usual blandness. As I
came up to the steel woven screen he smiled at me. I remember he looked
pale and worried! And his eyes were dull and heavy. I tried to give him
a little comfort as best I could under the circumstances.
I knew that in time Mr. Molineux would secure another trial and it came,
thank God, and I was one of the first to congratulate him after the jury
had filed into Court and said, “Not guilty.”
While I was speaking to Roland, Dr. Kennedy was having a visit from his
wife. I saw her on the train coming up but I reached the prison some
time before her as I came by way of the railroad track.
I had only a few words with Dr. Kennedy. I could see that he was in a
state of great nervous excitement bordering on collapse, and no wonder,
for his case was that day before the Court of Appeals. It was in the
balance. The judges were then considering the circumference of the lead
pipe which was the one thing in his case that led to a new trial. A
sixteenth part of an inch decided his fate! I looked at Kennedy again
and again; he was a study! His eyes were like balls of fire, his hair
stood upright, his hands held on to the steel bars of his cage and
braced him while he spoke to his wife. The strain was telling on him!
His face was pallid and he looked as if he had not slept in a month. Not
only did he look dejected and worried on account of the ordeal through
which he was then passing, but he looked like a man almost beside
himself. The Court of Appeals gave him a chance for his life, and after
three trials failed to convict him, he was liberated. Since then the old
indictment against him has been quashed.
There was another young man in the death house that morning. He was a
New Englander—only a few feet away! It was Eddie Wise—an intelligent,
wide-awake and bright young man. For several years he had led a wild
life as the companion of criminals. What brought him here? Under the
influence of cursed rum he took part in a “highway” in which the victim
was killed in defending his watch and money. The other two “crooks” got
away, and have never been found. This young man who simply looked on was
held as a principal and convicted of murder in the first degree.
There is another man present who killed a companion at a game of cards
on a Sunday afternoon. They had all been drinking; after a quarrel he
went for a gun and shot his friend to death. He has a wife and five
small children. Poor Priora!
The others in the cells are Jim Mullen, an ex-English soldier, Newfeldt,
the Jew, and Fritz Meyer—all of them passed through the little iron door
and paid the penalty of the law for their crime!
Some of the inmates call the death house a “Modern Inferno,” but I could
not read Dante’s inscription, written over the portals, “None return
that enter here.” Indeed, some who had spent from one to two years in
those chambers of death have afterwards gone forth to liberty, and are
now living in freedom. I have often thought that the awful monotony, the
solitary silence, the deprivations of papers, letters and friends were
enough to drive men in such a place crazy. But when one of the inmates
came back to the Tombs to stand a new trial, I asked him regarding these
things, and he informed me that they can only stand that awful silence
and suspense a few days, when they break out and for hours make the
place hideous with their yells.
An Italian named Raeffello Casconea returned to New York for another
trial in July, 1906, after having spent thirty-one months and
twenty-three days in the death house. During this time he saw twelve men
go into the “Room with the Little Door,” who never returned again.
Casconea occupied cell No. 1, and as the men passed into the death
chamber he was permitted to shake them by the hand and wish them good
cheer. At the second trial in this city, Casconea was liberated and
since has kept a coffee house on Mulberry street. On August 10th, 1909,
he was shot by the seventeen year old brother of the man that he was
alleged to have killed. Casconea has since died.
The whole number of persons electrocuted in Sing Sing from January 1st,
1890, till July 1st, 1909, according to the prison records, was between
fifty and sixty.
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