Franklin Syndicate.
A thousand or so were returned, the depositors having refused to pay the
charges. The rest of the customers in large measure responded. But the
game was nearly up. There were scare-heads in the papers. Miller saw
detectives on every corner, and, like a rat leaving a sinking ship,
Schlessinger scuttled away for the last time with a bag of money on the
evening of Tuesday, November 21st, 1899. The rest of the deposits were
crammed into Miller's desk and left there over night.
The next morning Miller returned to Floyd Street and spent that day in
the usual routine, and also on Thursday remained until about twelve
o'clock noon, when he placed thirty thousand five hundred dollars in
bills in a satchel and started for Ammon's office, where he found
Schlessinger--likewise with a satchel.
"The jig's up," announced Schlessinger.
"Billy, I think you'll have to make a run for it," said Ammon. "The
best thing for you is to go to Canada."
It still remained to secure the money, which Miller had deposited in the
banks, in such a way that the customers could not get hold of it. Ammon
explained how that could easily be done. The money should be all turned
over to him, and none of the creditors would ever see it again. He did
not deem it necessary to suggest that neither would Miller. Accordingly
the two, the lawyer and the client, went to the office of Wells, Fargo &
Co., Ammon obligingly carrying the satchel containing the thirty
thousand five hundred dollars. Here Ammon deposited the contents to his
own account, as well as the certificate of deposit for one hundred
thousand dollars previously mentioned, and a check for ten thousand
dollars, representing the balance of Miller's loot. In addition to this
he received an order for forty thousand dollars United States Government
bonds, which were on deposit with Wells, Fargo & Co., and later, through
Miller's father, sixty-five thousand dollars in bonds of the New York
Central Railroad and the United States Government. Thus Ammon secured
from his dupe the sum of two hundred and forty-five thousand five
hundred dollars, the actual market value of the securities bringing the
amount up to two hundred and fifty thousand five hundred dollars,
besides whatever sums he had been paid by Miller for legal services,
which could not have been less than ten or fifteen thousand dollars. The
character of the gentleman is well illustrated by the fact that later
when paying Mrs. Miller her miserable pittance of five dollars per week,
he explained to her that "he was giving her that out of his own money,
and that her husband _owed him_."
[Illustration: Ammon's deposit slips and a receipt signed by Mrs.
Ammon.]
There still remained, however, the chance of getting a few dollars more
and Ammon advised Miller "to try to get Friday's receipts, which were
the heaviest day's business." Acting on this suggestion, Miller
returned to Floyd Street the next morning at about half past nine,
finding a great crowd of people waiting outside. About one o'clock he
started to go home, but discovering that he was being followed by a man
whom he took to be a detective, he boarded a street car, dodged through
a drug store and a Chinese laundry, finally made the elevated railroad,
with his pursuer at his heels, and eventually reached the lawyer's
office about two o'clock in the afternoon. Word was received almost
immediately over the telephone that Miller had been indicted in Kings
County for conspiracy to defraud, and Ammon stated that the one thing
for Miller to do was to go away. Miller replied that he did not want to
go unless he could take his wife and baby with him, but Ammon assured
him that he would send them to Canada later in charge of his own wife.
Under this promise Miller agreed to go, and Ammon procured a man named
Enright to take Miller to Canada, saying that "he was an ex-detective
and could get him out of the way." Ammon further promised to forward to
Miller whatever money he might need to retain lawyers for him in
Montreal. Thereupon Miller exchanged hats with some one in Ammon's
office and started for Canada in the custody of the lawyer's
representative.
How the wily colonel must have chuckled as poor Miller trotted down the
stairs like a sheep leaving his fleece behind him. A golden fleece
indeed! Did ever a lawyer have such a piece of luck? Here was a little
fellow who had invented a brilliant scheme to get away with other
people's money and had carried it through successfully--more than
successfully, beyond the dreams of even the most avaricious criminal,
and then, richer than Midas, had handed over the whole jolly fortune to
another for the other's asking, without even taking a scrap of paper to
show for it. More than that, he had then voluntarily extinguished
himself. Had Ammon not chuckled he would not have been Bob Ammon. The
money was stolen, to be sure, but Ammon's skirts were clear. There was
nothing to show that the two hundred and forty-five thousand dollars he
had received was stolen money. There was only one man--a discredited
felon, who could hint that the money was even "tainted," and _he_ was
safely over the border, in a foreign jurisdiction, not in the custody of
the police, but of Ammon himself, to be kept there (as Mr. Robert C.
Taylor so aptly phrased it in arguing Ammon's case on appeal) "on
waiting orders. Ammon had Miller on a string, and as soon as Ammon (for
his own sake) was compelled either to produce Miller or to run the risk
of indictment, he pulled the string and brought Miller back into the
jurisdiction."
Needless to say great was the ado made over the disappearance of the
promoter of the Franklin Syndicate, and the authorities of King's County
speedily let it become known that justice required that some one should
be punished for the colossal fraud which had been perpetrated. The grand
jury of the county started a general investigation. Public indignation
was stirred to the point of ebullition. In the midst of the rumpus,
there came a knock on the office door of the Hon. John F. Clark,
District Attorney of King's County, and Col. Robert A. Ammon announced
himself. The two men were entire strangers to each other but this did
not prevent Ammon, with his inimitable assurance, from addressing the
District Attorney by his first name.
"How are you, John?" he inquired nonchalantly, "what can I do for you?"
Mr. Clark repressed his natural inclination to kick the insolent fellow
forcibly out of his office, invited him to be seated and rang for a
stenographer. Ammon asserted his anxiety to assist the District Attorney
by every means in his power, but denied knowing the whereabouts of
Miller, alleging that he was simply acting as his counsel. Mr. Clark
replied that in Miller's absence the grand jury might take the view
that Ammon himself was the principal. At this Ammon calmly assured his
host that as far as he was concerned he was ready to go before the grand
jury at any time.
"That is just what I want," returned Mr. Clark, "the grand jury is in
session. Come over."
Ammon arose with a smile and accompanied the District Attorney towards
the door of the grand jury room. Just outside he suddenly placed his
hand to his head as if recollecting something.
"One moment," he exclaimed. "I forgot that I have an engagement. I will
come over to-morrow."
"Ah!" retorted Mr. Clark, "I do not think you will be here to-morrow."
Two weeks later Miller was safely ensconced without bail in Raymond
Street jail.
Schlessinger, who got away with one hundred and seventy-five thousand
dollars in cash, fled to Europe where he lived high, frequenting the
race tracks and gaming tables until he was called to his final account a
year or two ago. The money which he took has never been traced. Miller
was tried, convicted and sent to Sing Sing. The Appellate Division of
the Supreme Court then reversed his conviction, but later, on appeal to
the Court of Appeals, it was sustained.
Of the enormous sums turned over to Ammon Miller received nothing save
the money necessary for his support in Montreal, for the lawyers who
defended him, and five dollars per week for his wife and child up to the
time he turned State's evidence. It is interesting to note that among
the counsel representing Miller upon his trial was Ammon himself.
Miller's wife and child were not sent to Montreal by Ammon, nor did the
latter secure bail for his client at any time during his different
periods of incarceration. The colonel knew very well that it was a
choice between himself and Miller and took no steps which might
necessitate the election falling upon himself.
The conviction of Miller, with his sentence to ten years in State's
prison did not, however, prevent the indictment of Ammon for receiving
stolen money in New York County, although the chance that he would ever
have to suffer for his crime seemed small indeed. The reader must bear
in mind that up to the time of Ammon's trial Miller had never admitted
his guilt; that he was still absolutely, and apparently irrevocably,
under Ammon's sinister influence, keeping in constant communication with
him and implicitly obeying his instructions while in prison; and that
Miller's wife and child were dependent upon Ammon for their daily bread.
No wonder Ammon strode the streets confident that his creature would
never betray him.
"Now, Billy, you don't want to be shooting off your mouth up here," was
his parting injunction to his dupe on his final visit to Sing Sing
before he became a guest there himself at the expense of the People.
Miller followed his orders to the letter, and the stipend was increased
to the munificent sum of forty dollars per month.
Meantime the case against Ammon languished and the District Attorney of
New York County was at his wits' end to devise a means to procure the
evidence to convict him. To do this it would be necessary to establish
affirmatively that the thirty thousand five hundred dollars received by
Ammon from Miller and deposited with Wells, Fargo & Co. was the
_identical_ money stolen by Miller from the victims of the Franklin
Syndicate. It was easy enough to prove that Miller stole hundreds of
thousands of dollars, that Ammon received hundreds of thousands, but you
had to prove that the same money stolen by Miller passed to the hands of
Ammon. Only one man in the world, as Ammon had foreseen, could supply
this last necessary link in the chain of evidence and he was a
convict--and mute.
It now became the task of the District Attorney to induce Miller to
confess the truth and take the stand against Ammon. He had been in
prison a considerable time and his health was such as to necessitate his
being transferred to the hospital ward. Several of the District
Attorney's assistants visited him at various times at Sing Sing in the
hope of being able to persuade him to turn State's evidence, but all
their efforts were in vain. Miller refused absolutely to say anything
that would tend to implicate Ammon.
At last the District Attorney himself, accompanied by Mr. Nott, who
later prosecuted Ammon, made a special trip to Sing Sing to see what
could be done. They found Miller lying upon his prison pallet, his harsh
cough and blazing eyes speaking only too patently of his condition. At
first Mr. Nott tried to engage him in conversation while the District
Attorney occupied himself with other business in another part of the
ward, but it was easily apparent that Miller would say nothing. The
District Attorney then approached the bed where Miller was lying and
inquired if it were true that he declined to say anything which might
tend to incriminate Ammon. After some hesitation Miller replied that,
even if he should testify against his old accomplice, there was nothing
to show that he would be pardoned, and that he would not talk unless he
had actually in his hands some paper or writing which would guarantee
that if he did so he would be set free.
The spectacle of a convicted felon haggling with an officer of the law
over the terms upon which he would consent to avail himself of an
opportunity to make the only reparation still possible angered the
District Attorney, and, turning fiercely upon the prisoner, he arraigned
him in scathing terms, stating that he was a miserable swindler and
thief, who had robbed thousands of poor people of all the money they had
in the world, that he showed himself devoid of every spark of decency or
repentance by refusing to assist the law in punishing his confederate
and assisting his victims in getting back what was left of the money,
and that he, the District Attorney, felt himself humiliated in having
consented to come there to visit and talk with such a heartless and
depraved specimen of humanity. The District Attorney then turned his
back upon Miller, whose eyes filled with tears, but who made no
response.
A few moments later the convict asked permission to speak to the
District Attorney alone. With some reluctance the latter granted the
request and the others drew away.
"Mr. District Attorney," said the wretched man in a trembling voice,
with the tears still suffusing his eyes, "I _am_ a thief; I did rob all
those poor people, and I am heartily sorry for it. I would gladly die,
if by doing so I could pay them back. But I haven't a single cent of all
the money that I stole and the only thing that stands between my wife
and baby and starvation is my keeping silence. If I did what you ask,
the only money they have to live on would be stopped. I can't see them
starve, glad as I would be to do what I can now to make up for the wrong
I have done."
The District Attorney's own eyes were not entirely dry as he held out
his hand to Miller.
"Miller," he replied, "I have done you a great injustice. I honor you
for the position you have taken. Were I in your place I should probably
act exactly as you are doing. I cannot promise you a pardon if you
testify against Ammon. I cannot even promise that your wife will receive
forty dollars a month, for the money in my charge cannot be used for
such a purpose; all I can assure you of is that, should you decide to
help me, a full and fair statement of all you may have done will be sent
to the Governor with a request that he act favorably upon any
application for a pardon which you may make. The choice must be your
own. Whatever you decide to do, you have my respect and sympathy. Think
well over the matter. Do not decide at once; wait for a day or two, and
I will return to New York and you can send me word."
The next day Miller sent word that he had determined to tell the truth
and take the stand, whatever the consequences to himself and his family
might be. He was immediately transferred to the Tombs Prison in New York
City, where he made a complete and full confession, not only assisting
in every way in securing evidence for the prosecution of Ammon, but
aiding his trustee in bankruptcy to determine the whereabouts of some
sixty thousand dollars of the stolen money, which but for him would
never have been recovered. At the same time Ammon was re-arrested upon a
bench warrant, and his bail sufficiently increased to render his
appearance for trial probable. As Miller had foreseen, the monthly
payment to his wife instantly stopped.
The usual effect produced upon a jury by the testimony of a convict
accomplice is one of distrust or open incredulity. Every word of
Miller's story, however, carried with it the impression of absolute
truth. As he proceeded, in spite of the sneers of the defence, an
extraordinary wave of sympathy for the man swept over the court-room,
and the jury listened with close attention to his graphic account of the
rise and fall of the outrageous conspiracy which had attempted to shield
its alluring offer of instant wealth behind the name of America's most
practical philosopher, whose only receipt for the same end had been
frugality and industry. Supported as Miller was by the corroborative
testimony of other witnesses and by the certificates of deposit which
Ammon had, with his customary bravado, made out in his own handwriting,
no room was left for even the slightest doubt, not only that the money
had been stolen but that Ammon had received it. Indeed so plain was the
proposition that the defence never for an instant contemplated the
possibility of putting Ammon upon the stand in his own behalf. It was in
truth an extraordinary case, for the principal element in the proof was
made out by the evidence of the thief himself that he was a thief.
Miller had been tried and convicted of the very larceny to which he now
testified, and, although in the eyes of the law no principle of _res
adjudicata_ could apply in Ammon's case, it was a logical conclusion
that if the evidence upon the first trial was repeated, the necessary
element of larceny would be effectually established. Hence, in point of
fact, Miller's testimony upon the question of whether the money had been
_stolen_ was entirely unnecessary, and the efforts of the defence were
directed simply to making out Miller such a miscreant upon his own
testimony that perforce the jury could not accept his evidence when it
reached the point of implicating Ammon. All their attempts in this
direction, however, only roused increased sympathy for the witness and
hostility toward their own client, and made the jury the more ready to
believe that Ammon had been the only one in the end to profit by the
transaction.
Briefly, the two points urged by the defence were:
(1) That Ammon was acting only as Miller's counsel, and hence was
immune, and,
(2) That there was no adequate legal evidence that the thirty thousand
five hundred dollars which Ammon had deposited, as shown by the deposit
slip, was the identical money stolen from the victims of the Franklin
syndicate. As bearing upon this they urged that the stolen money had in
fact been deposited by Miller himself, and so had lost the character of
stolen money before it was turned over to the defendant, and that
Miller's story being that of an accomplice required absolute
corroboration in every detail.
The point that Ammon was acting only as a lawyer was quickly disposed of
by Judge Newburger.
"Something has been said by counsel," he remarked in his charge to the
jury, "to the effect that the defendant, as a lawyer, had a perfect
right to advise Miller, but I know of no rule of law that will permit
counsel to advise how a crime can be committed."
As to the identity of the money, the Court charged that it made no
difference which person performed the physical act of placing the cash
in the hands of the receiving teller of the bank, so long as it was
deposited to Ammon's credit.
On the question of what corroboration of Miller's story was necessary,
Judge Ingraham, in the Appellate Division, expressed great doubt as to
whether in the eyes of the law Miller, the thief, could be regarded as
an accomplice of Ammon in receiving the stolen money at all, and stated
that even if he could be so regarded, there was more than abundant
corroboration of his testimony.
Ammon's conviction was affirmed throughout the courts, including the
Court of Appeals, and the defendant himself is now engaged in serving
out his necessarily inadequate sentence--necessarily inadequate, since
under the laws of the State of New York, the receiver of stolen goods,
however great his moral obliquity may be, and however great the amount
stolen, can only receive half the punishment which may be meted out to
the thief himself, "receiving" being punishable by only five years or
less in State's prison, while grand larceny is punishable by ten years.
Yet who was the greater criminal--the weak, ignorant, poverty-stricken
clerk, or the shrewd, experienced lawyer who preyed upon his client and
through him upon the community at large?
The confession of Miller, in the face of what the consequences of his
course might mean to his wife and child, was an act of moral courage.
The price he had to pay is known to himself alone. But the horrors of
life in prison for the "squealer" were thoroughly familiar to him when
he elected to do what he could to atone for his crime. In fact Ammon had
not neglected to picture them vividly to him and to stigmatize an
erstwhile client of his.
"Everything looks good," he wrote to Miller in Sing Sing, in reporting
the affirmance of Goslin's conviction, "especially since the _squealer_
is getting his just _deserts_."
With no certain knowledge of a future pardon Miller went back to prison
cheerfully to face all the nameless tortures inflicted upon those who
help the State--the absolute black silence of convict excommunication,
the blows and kicks inflicted without opportunity for retaliation or
complaint, the hostility of guards and keepers, the suffering of abject
poverty, keener in a prison house than on any other foot of earth.
It is interesting to observe that Miller's original purpose had been to
secure money to speculate with--for he had been bitten deep by the
tarantula of Wall Street, and his early experiences had led him to
believe that he could beat the market if only he had sufficient margin.
This margin he set out to secure. Then when he saw how easy it was to
get money for the asking, he dropped the idea of speculation and simply
became a banker. He did make one bona-fide attempt, but the stock went
down, he sold out and netted a small loss. Had Miller actually
_continued to speculate_ it is doubtful whether he could have been
convicted for any crime, since it was for that purpose that the money
was entrusted to him. He might have lost it all in the Street and gone
scot free. As it was, in failing to gamble with it, he became guilty of
embezzlement.
Ammon arrived in Sing Sing with a degree of éclat. He found numerous old
friends and clients among the inmates. He brought a social position
which had its value. Money, too, is no less desirable there than
elsewhere, and Ammon had plenty of it.
In due course, but not until he had served more than half his sentence
(less commutation), Miller a broken man, received his pardon, and went
back to his wife and child. When Governor Higgins performed this act of
executive clemency, many honest folk in Brooklyn and elsewhere loudly
expressed their indignation. District Attorney Jerome did not escape
their blame. Was this contemptible thief, this meanest of all mean
swindlers, who had stolen hundreds of thousands to be turned loose on
the community before he had served half his sentence? It was an outrage!
A disgrace to civilization! Reader, how say you?