_By_ DR. HARRY E. MERENESS
_Former Physician at Sing Sing Prison_
Dr. Harry E. Mereness, who wrote this realistic description
of an electrocution, was attending physician at Sing Sing
Prison for six years, and during that period he attended, in
his official capacity, sixty-seven executions in the Electric
Chair—a record that has never been equaled. Among the many
noted executions he witnessed were those of Lieut. Becker of
the New York Police Department and the four gunmen in the
Rosenthal case. Prior to their death, he attended the prisoners
in the condemned cells.
“The average prisoner, approaching the moment of execution,”
says Dr. Mereness, “is in a mental haze or wild delirium
produced by the fear of death. In two instances, however, this
was lacking. Both men, after being strapped in the chair, said:
‘Good-by, Doc!’”
The minute hand on my watch indicates 5:44 a. m. I am standing in a
direct line with the chair.
My gaze is directed to the left side of the room and down a short,
narrow, heavily-walled corridor that forms the communication between the
condemned cells and the execution chamber. There are a number of guards
standing quietly about, and on my right, back of a rope stretched across
the room, sit the witnesses.
There is a tension in the very air of the chamber. Absolute quiet
prevails. A few seconds pass, eternally long they are.
Then comes a sound—a muffled “Good-by, all.” The sound reaches the ears
of the witnesses, and involuntarily they straighten up on their stools;
there is some scuffling of feet, and one witness, possibly a trifle more
nervous than the rest, clears his throat. Everyone is now keenly alert.
I hear the chant of the priest—the response of the condemned man—the low,
quavering and broken response, “Have mercy on me.”
The little procession now enters the corridor. I see the condemned
man—stocking-footed, and with his right trouser leg flapping, grimly
ludicrous, for it has been slit up to the knee in order to facilitate the
application of the leg electrode. He is between the deputy warden and his
assistant, each supporting an arm as they slowly enter the death chamber.
At the sight of the fateful and fatal chair, the condemned man
involuntarily shrinks back, but the guards are prepared for this, and
their hold becomes a little firmer. There is no halt in their step, and
but five paces away, inanimate, portentous and ominous—the chair!
[Illustration: _Copyright 1910 by Harry Hirschfeld._]
After the first sight—after that sharp, quivering intake of breath—the
gaze of the condemned man shifts about the room. His expression haunts
one. You feel that it is both all-seeing and unseeing. The fear of
death—a definite emotion—is here portrayed in a fashion that but few have
beheld. There is utter finality in that look.
His eyes rest upon you. You feel that he sees you, but that you are
simply one of the images in the general make-up of the last picture that
is conveyed to his brain. There is no recognition in the glance—just
a vague, hopeless and apparently vacant stare, but one which you feel
discerns the sharp outlines of the persons and objects in the room,
without recognizing features or details.
To me, that quick survey of his surroundings, that final glance of the
unfortunate being on the very threshold of his meeting with his God,
is the most harrowing of all the gruesome details connected with the
administration of man-made Law’s decree.
My watch indicates 5:45 a. m. The condemned man is seated in the Chair.
The guards work quickly, two at either side and one at the head of the
Chair. The arm straps are buckled fast, the leg straps next, then the
face strap, which has an opening for the chin, and the upper part of
which mercifully blindfolds the eyes.
The cap, a soft, pliable thing made of a fine copper mesh and lined with
sponge, which has been moistened in salt water, is placed upon the head
and moulded to fit its contour. To a binding-post on the cap is adjusted
the heavy wire that conveys the terrific current from the dynamo in a
distant part of the prison. To the bare right leg, another electrode is
applied and connected up.
A full minute has elapsed since I heard the “Good-by, all.” The guards
have completed their task. My notes now read: “Entered 5:44:10. Chair and
strapped 5:45:00.”
“Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world have mercy on me,”
chants the priest. And: “Have mercy on me,” comes the broken, almost
inaudible and inarticulate response.
I retain my position, note-book and watch in my left hand. I am standing
on the right side of, and in the same direct line with, the Chair. The
Chair and its occupant, the electrician and myself, form a right angle. I
occupy the angle, for at the ends of the lines, which make up that angle,
are the two things that demand my undivided attention—the electrician and
the condemned. From my point of vantage I can see them both. My eyes are
on the condemned man.
I feel the eyes of the electrician upon me. I have a new, bright yellow
pencil—freshly sharpened. It is quite necessary for my notes. I hold it
vertically on my note-book, and watch the occupant of the Chair. The
overwhelming mental tension, coupled with the knowledge of the proximity
of death, has a fearsome reaction upon the Chair’s victim. With each
rapid inspiration, there is a slight elevation of the shoulders, and as
expiration takes place the shoulders sag. This is the very instant I have
awaited—the lungs are practically free from air. I dip my pencil quickly
from the vertical toward the horizontal.
There is a sudden _click_, the body in the Chair straightens, and from
the mouth comes a low, sibilant _hiss_; the straps creak, and you feel
that if the straps should break the body would be catapulted over the
rope and amidst the witnesses.
For ten seconds the high current of eighteen hundred and fifty volts and
eight to nine amperes is on; then, for forty seconds, the voltage is
dropped to two hundred.
During this period the body sags perceptibly; at the end of forty seconds
the current is again increased, and the body again straightens and
strains against the straps. After the final ten seconds of the fatal
minute, the current is switched off.
The body in the Chair actually shrinks before your very eyes! I step
up to the Chair; a guard tears open the shirt and bares the chest. As
I place my stethoscope over the heart I am conscious that the body is
intensely hot. I know from experience that the heat generated by the
rapidity of the passage of the current has raised the temperature from
sub-normal to between 120 and 130 degrees.
I hear a racing, tumultuous _rat-a-tat-tat_—possibly I can count the
heart beats. I lift the face strap, and with thumb and forefinger
separate the lids. The eyes are glazed, but the pupils are small. I feel
the great arteries in the neck. I continue to get a pulsation that tells
me that the vital forces have not yet ceased.
My notes now read: “First contact—one minute—5:45:10—5:46:10.”
I step off the rubber mat and nod to the electrician; the current is
again thrown on, this time for five seconds. When I now listen over the
heart, I am reminded of a clock that is running down; the heart beats
are fainter—they become slower—they commence to skip—I fail to feel the
pulsation in the neck—there is a heavier glaze over the eyes—the pupils,
small and contracted a moment before, are now widely dilated. The head
rests on the shoulders, and the face is directed toward the chandelier
with its many lights, but there is no reaction of the pupil as the bright
light strikes the eye—it remains wide and big. The muscles of the face
are set, and saliva drools from the angles of the mouth.
I again place my stethoscope upon the chest, but no sound reaches my ear.
I listen for five—for ten—for twenty seconds. There is nothing; all the
vital reactions have disappeared.
Physicians among the witnesses are invited to listen; they take their
time, for there is no reason for hurry now. After the last one finishes I
make a final examination. It is as before—nothing.
My notes now state: “Second contact—5 seconds—5:47:00. Pronounced dead at
5:52:00.”