check. He went from bad to worse, and was soon known from east to
west and north to south by the list of bad paper he had left behind.
Many times his relatives kept him out of jail by straightening out
difficulties into which the young man drifted, but finally they became
tired of this and refused to have anything further to do with him.
Cut off from home’s ties, Eytinge became even more desperate and
finally ended up in the Ohio State Penitentiary following his arrest
and a daring attempt at a big jail delivery. While in the penitentiary
Eytinge was known as a “bad one” and when released it was found that he
was suffering from the advanced stages of tuberculosis. This was at the
age of twenty-seven. When relatives learned of his physical condition
they weakened in their determination to do no more for him. They sent
him to Arizona with an allowance of one hundred dollars per month. He
was to remain away from Dayton and live within the law.
Eytinge had not been in Arizona very long, however, until he was under
suspicion of murder. A man with whom he had become quite friendly and
whom he had taken care of in a financial way was found dead in the
desert one day after Eytinge had been seen to leave the city with him
for a buggy ride. When the body was found Eytinge had disappeared.
He was found later in California and in his pockets were some of the
belongings of the dead man.
Eytinge was brought back to Arizona and placed on trial for his life.
He was convicted on circumstantial evidence after William A. Pinkerton,
one of the greatest detectives of the time, had declared that it was
improbable that Eytinge had killed the man “as his criminal bend did
not gallop in that direction.” Judge A. C. Wright, of Phoenix, who
defended Eytinge, was so sure of the prisoner’s innocence that he went
into his own pocket to pay for the appeal of the case.
Eytinge was convicted and sentenced to life in prison. How long can he
live in prison? That was the question asked by all who had seen him
on the witness stand. Eytinge was near death’s door at the time. His
allowance had been cut off and he did not have the funds with which
to purchase fresh milk and eggs, two delicacies almost absolutely
necessary for the tubercular patient. The State prison was then at
Yuma, Arizona. It was a hell hole with its mosquitoes which swarmed
into the cells that looked out on the Colorado river. The quarters were
damp, dark and dirty, and afforded excellent means of killing a man who
at the time was ready to die.
But right there is the story. Eytinge was not ready to die. He was not
30 years old. He clung to the hope that something would bring about
his release. He wanted to live, wanted to breathe again the fresh air
of freedom and hobnob again with the pals, association with whom had
placed him behind steel bars. Eytinge was still a crook.
Enough of the crook! Let us get to Eytinge the business builder and
man. It is a great, broad jump we admit, but the telling of how Eytinge
accomplished it is a thousand times easier to do than the battle which
Eytinge himself had to go through in bringing about that end. Seven
years ago Eytinge was a crook of the first water, seven years, mind
you, and--today Eytinge is a man. He is looked up to by professional
advertising writers the country over. His business letters are the best
that are being written today. Eytinge is the star of them all.
The strange part of this great accomplishment is the manner in which
it was brought about. Eytinge made the road light for himself. He
started out with weak hands to carry the torch that showed him the way.
Today Eytinge is his own light; he has thrown away the torch and walks
alone. Honesty is his greatest asset, and it was through the writing of
business letters that Eytinge found his way.
When Eytinge entered the State prison he realized that he must find
some means of making money. One could not forge checks in prison.
Eytinge was placed in the chronic ward. Around him were Indians,
Mexicans and others who in their spare moments made hat bands, watch
fobs and other articles out of horse hair. They decorated these with
rosettes hammered out of Mexican dollars. These articles were sold
whenever possible to chance visitors at the prison, but it was a slow
way of making money.
And then one day the big idea came to Eytinge! Opportunity knocked
on the steel bars and Eytinge was there to talk to Her! The crude
handiwork of the prisoners was the vehicle by which Eytinge began to
make his way. He began by writing letters to retail dealers on the
outside asking them to take the agency for the hat bands, belts, watch
fobs and other articles. It was not long until the money began to pour
in. There was a big demand for the articles, but it was the letters
that Eytinge had written that opened up the field. In these letters
Eytinge had given the dealers a straightforward account of what the
articles really were. He told the truth absolutely and unvarnished, and
one day he discovered that he had been doing this.
Does honesty pay? This was the question that Eytinge asked himself.
He did not have to ask others--he had the proof before him. He had
discovered that honesty did pay and that it paid well. But just at that
time this new business received a severe setback. Prison officials
became suspicious that many of the letters going out from the prison
were not what they purported to be. Some of the salesmen were suspected
of filling their letters with fake statements which were little short
of appeals for help.
Word went out from the warden’s office that each prisoner could write
but two letters a week. Eytinge had been dealing with forty retail
merchants. Many a man would have thrown up the sponge and quit. To have
thirty-eight customers taken away in that manner would have proved a
shock that few concerns would have been able to withstand. But Eytinge
did not admit defeat. He soon recovered from the shock and saw that
something must be done. Two letters must be made to do what forty had
been doing before.
The wholesale field was the only thing left. Eytinge began again
through that channel. And the letters he wrote! They were full of
business from the “Dear Sirs” to the “Yours Very Truly.” These letters
did not whine. Eytinge did not have the time nor space for that. He had
to talk business, and he talked it so well that it was not long until
the two letters were doing all that the forty had ever done.
In the meantime a new administration had taken hold of affairs in
Arizona. The State prison was removed from the banks of the Colorado up
the Gila Valley to Florence, and with this change came a change for the
better in Eytinge’s health. When he entered the penitentiary at Yuma
he weighed 119 pounds and now he weighs 190 pounds, is the picture of
health and physicians declare that he is cured of tuberculosis.
Finding himself had given Eytinge two things. It gave him a new self,
one of which he was as ignorant of as you or I, and it also gave him
health. The necessity for money with which to fight off death had done
this and it had been his desire for money that had placed him in a
position where he had to get it by some other means than by placing
some one else’s name on a check.
By this time Eytinge’s letters had begun to attract the attention of
people other than those with whom he was dealing. He had become a
student of criminology also, and when Governor George P. Hunt, the
first Statehood governor of Arizona, began his fight for better penal
laws after his inauguration in February, 1912, Eytinge had published
a booklet of which he was the author, dealing with this question. A
noted sociologist has pronounced this to be the cleverest thing ever
published on the question.
Magazines soon began to find Eytinge a man worth telling their readers
about. Advertising booklets such as “Letters,” published in Chicago;
“Printers Ink,” and others sent men to Arizona to “write Eytinge up.”
In this way he became well known to men who held high positions in the
advertising field. His advice was sought by business houses whose sales
forces needed bolstering up, and he has also been offered numerous
positions as business manager and business counsel.
Eytinge has made thousands of dollars out of his business since in
prison, but in an article a fellow prisoner has written about him it is
said that Eytinge is in debt. Why? Well, principally because he is a
man, and goes out of his way to help others. These laws of ours give a
discharged prisoner a five-dollar bill and a cast-off suit of clothing
when he starts out to face the world. Eytinge says this is not enough,
and thousands agree with him, so when he sees a man leaving prison
who is deserving and in need, he is the first to come forward with
financial aid. He has helped hundreds of men fight through the courts
for their freedom, and the families of hundreds of prisoners can thank
Eytinge for money that has tided them over the prison term of the head
of their house.
Don’t forget that Eytinge now before you is the man who seven years
ago entered the penitentiary many thought to die. Yes, the old Eytinge
is dead--Eytinge, the crook, has passed away, but it has left an
Eytinge whom the world will be glad to greet. Peter Clark Macfarlane,
a Collier’s writer, says this of Eytinge: “They had penned him up to
die. They sent him to jail, a crook, and lo, his voice was a power for
honesty.”
That is the way Eytinge is spoken of by hundreds who have become
acquainted with him through correspondence and the few who have taken
the trouble to visit him in his work shop. Among Eytinge’s first really
influential friends after he got on the right track were McCrary, the
old parole clerk at the prison, and J. J. Sanders, the new parole
clerk, who was appointed when Governor Hunt made Robert B. Sims warden
of the institution. Sims had never had any dealings with prisoners or
penitentiaries before, but he had some ideas as to how they should be
run. One thing that he remembered, which the wardens of many States
seem to have forgotten, is that prisoners are human beings.
These three men helped Eytinge to pull himself up out of the rut. He
was made a “trusty” and given a clerkship in the parole clerk’s office.
These were about the first honest men Eytinge had ever associated with.
Honest men to him up until that time were “rubes” and “dubs” whose
money he looked upon as his own. But in his efforts to help the parole
clerks guide the footsteps of the prisoners who had been given a chance
through the parole law, Eytinge found that happiness can come to a man
by doing something for someone besides himself.
Lecturing did not bring these things about. It was the man’s ability
to see for himself, and his horizon was the prison walls. Here he saw
before him hundreds of men who had violated the laws of society, and he
saw also that the happy ones were those who had violated no laws but
were trying to help those who had. Step by step Eytinge was bringing
himself up out of the mud. He declares today that the happiest moments
of his life were those in which he found that he was regaining the
confidence of those who had lost all faith in him.
One of the best indications of the regard in which advertising men of
the country hold this prisoner is the fact that a paper written by him
was read during the convention of the Associated Advertising Clubs of
America, which was held at Toronto, Canada, June 21-25. This paper
received greater applause than any other read before the convention,
and the delegates were so enthusiastic over it that they voted to send
Eytinge a vote of thanks.
The paper was read on Thursday at the close of the sessions when many
of the visitors were anxious to get away for their homes, but 300 men
remained in the hall in rapt attention while the paper was being read.
A storm of applause swept through the hall as the reader concluded the
message from the man who “puts his brains in an envelope.”
It has been a long, hard struggle for Eytinge. Will it win him his
freedom? That is the question many are asking. No one can tell. Perhaps
the law will unbend and open the gates to him sometime. Those who know
him are hoping that such will be the case, and many are already doing
what they can to bring about this result. That Eytinge has hopes that
such a thing will come about goes without saying. He has served the
average length of time that a “lifter” serves in Ohio, and he is a
better man than many of those who are now released from prisons through
pardons or influence.
EVENTS IN BRIEF
[Under this heading will appear each month numerous paragraphs of
general interest, relating to the prison field and the treatment of
the delinquent.]
_The Ethics of Governor Blease._--The executive of South Carolina, who
has pardoned 1200 convicts in three years, has written about it all.
Here are some of the reasons he gives for pardons.
In telling why he paroled a negro named Sam Gaskins, convicted of
manslaughter, the Governor wrote:
“This negro, being engaged to a negro girl, called to see her and in
fooling with a pistol it went off and killed her. It seems to have been
a very sad accident. However, after a second thought, possibly it was
for the good of humanity, for had they married no doubt they would have
brought forth more negroes to the future detriment of the State.”
In explaining why he pardoned J. Allen Emerson, a white man, who was
serving a life sentence for murder, he said that the imprisonment of
Emerson had seriously impaired the health of the man’s sister. “Her
life,” the Governor states, “is worth more to her and her children and
is worth more to the citizenship and motherhood of this country than
the incarceration of her brother is worth to the State.”
In pardoning Roland Parris, who was convicted of assault and battery
on his brother-in-law, with intent to kill, the Governor explains that
Parris was protecting his sister from abuse. “I congratulate him,”
the Governor says, “for being man enough to protect his sister from a
drunken husband; in fact, I think there should be an appropriation made
by which the Governor could award him a gold medal of honor for his
action.”
The Governor thinks that if any white man calls another a certain
vile epithet and is killed the verdict should not be greater than
manslaughter. If a negro applies the epithet to a white man he doesn’t
care to say what he thinks the verdict ought to be, but “people may
draw their own conclusions.”
_Germans to See Prisons._--An unofficial tour of inspection of American
prisons and reformatories by Prussian Government officers will be made
during the month of August. The Prison Association of New York has
been asked to arrange the details of the proposed tour. The chairman
of the delegation will be Dr. Karl Finkelnburg, who for many years has
been prominent as a German prison warden, and who has recently been
promoted to the position of director of Prussian prisons under the
Ministry of the Interior, a position which had been occupied by the
late Dr. Krohne.
Dr. Finkelnburg, who will arrive upon the Imperator about the end
of the first week in August, will be accompanied by Professor
Darmstaedter, of the University of Berlin, and also by a member of
the Prussian Parliament. The tour of correctional institutions will
cover a period of thirty-five days, during which time many of the
most important prisons and reformatories of the Eastern and central
positions of the country will be visited.
In recent years American correctional institutions have been frequently
the object of careful study by foreign countries. In 1910, several
hundred foreign delegates not only attended the International Prison
Congress at Washington, but made a ten day’s tour, by invitation of the
Federal Government, of many institutions. In 1913 a tour of inspection
was arranged for four official representatives of the Prussian
Government--Messrs. Plaschke, Schlosser, Hiekmann, and Remmpis. During
a month and a half nearly fifty separate institutions were carefully
inspected. The official report to the Prussian Government of these
gentlemen has not yet been received from that Government by the United
States.
The German Government is discussing the proposed revision of the
penal law of Germany. Some of the most modern and successful features
of American prison and reformatory management are being carefully
considered in this connection.
_A “Relic of the Dark Ages”_--So the American newspaper correspondents
called the Vera Cruz prison in Mexico.
Most famous of all Mexico’s prisons, noted for the untold thousands
tortured within its walls, the castle prison of San Juan de Ulua,
stands today on a little island overlooking Vera Cruz pretty much as
it stood in the centuries of its existence. On April 28 the flag of
Mexico fluttered down from its flagstaff. The stars and stripes rose
in its place as Captain Paul Chamberlain and a company of marines from
the North Dakota took possession.
In his despatch to the navy department reporting the taking over of
the fortress Rear Admiral Fletcher said:
“The prison has been taken over under mutual agreement made between
myself and Colonel Vigil, in charge, which agreement was signed and
approved by Admiral Badger. There are in the prison 43 prisoners who
have been sentenced for crime, 75 who have been accused of crime but
have not been brought to trial and also 325 who have not been accused
of any misdemeanor whatever. These 325 were arrested mostly within the
last two months in order to be forced into the federal army and for no
other reason. The above data were obtained from the officer in charge.
The conditions in the prison under which the 325 men are living are
described as frightful.”
Secretary Daniels directed the release of these 325 men, ordering that
the seventy-five awaiting trial should be held pending investigation
by the American authorities into the charges against them.
“No stage manager putting on ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’ could imagine
anything more creepy than the sight which met the eyes of the American
officers when the keys were turned in the rusty locks and they entered
the ancient vaults,” wrote an American newspaper man describing his
visit to the prison.
In the grim, forbidding, gloomy pile of San Juan de Ulua the Spanish
inquisitors found a building suited to the purposes and one which
appealed to their torture-loving tastes. Only a fifteenth century
Spaniard could have designed such a castle.
_First Field Day at Auburn (N. Y.) Prison._--Despite several hundred
light cases of Scarlet fever, at the century old prison at Auburn “on
Memorial Day traditions were set aside when the 1,400 prisoners there
were given three hours in which to loaf or play and enjoy themselves
in the open air,” says the Poughkeepsie Press. “At two o’clock in the
afternoon they were marched into the yard in their usual companies, and
at a bugle signal they were disbanded. Then they played baseball, and
participated in other outdoor sports. There were cheers for the winning
contestants and a good time generally. At the end of the three hours
the bugle sounded the recall, the companies were formed again, and when
the men marched back into the prison there was not a prisoner missing,
and there had not been a single infraction of discipline.
“In this instance the short outing was a complete success. It did not
destroy discipline, nor will it tend to create the supposition that the
men are pampered at Auburn.”
_Road Making in New York._--In accordance with the policy of the
State Prison Department and by means of an appropriation made at the
last session of the legislature, the Department has placed groups of
convicts from the various State prisons at work improving roads in
different parts of the State. The plan will be extended as fast as
possible with the available appropriation and it is hoped that some 500
miles of earth road will be improved during the summer.
At present there are five convict squads on the roads. Three squads
have been sent out from Dannemora. They are all engaged in Clinton
County one squad improving a bad stretch of the old military turnpike.
Two more squads are out from Great Meadow, one working on the
Comstock-Whitehall road and the other on the Ticonderoga-Schroon lake
road in Warren county.
So far the plan has proved most successful. The convicts are keen for
the chance of work in the open air and the result to the counties in
which the work is being carried on is gratifying in improved traffic
conditions.
Several squads have been made up to be sent out from Auburn prison, but
an outbreak of scarlet fever in the institution has delayed the plan.
As soon as the quarantine is lifted many prisoners will be put to work.
By the provisions of the new law the thirty-mile radius from the walls
of prisons within which convicts could be engaged in road work has been
removed, so that they may be employed in any part of the State. In
addition to this, for the first time an appropriation has been made of
$50,000 for carrying on the work of improving roads by convict labor.
Boards of Supervisors of the various counties are applying to the
Prison Department for convicts to improve roads in the counties which
are not included in the State macadamized system.
Under the plan of Superintendent Riley the $50,000 will be spent in
improving earth roads rather than trying to build roads of macadam
because of the much greater use of the appropriation. Ten miles of good
earth road may be built for the amount required to construct a single
mile of macadam where gravel or other proper material for surfacing is
obtainable. It also costs less to maintain ten miles of gravel road
than one mile of macadam, declares Superintendent Riley.
“After the $100,000,000 to which the State is pledged is expended on
the State highways there will be a very large percentage of the roads
in the State which will not be touched by this expenditure,” said
Superintendent Riley. It is for the good of these roads, many of them
of the greatest importance, that he wishes to direct the convict road
labor particularly. _Hudson Republican, June 8._
NOTES
A new county workhouse costing $25,000 has been built at South Range,
Wis., on a tract of 160 acres, which will be worked by the prisoners.
* * * * *
A modified form of self-government has been introduced at the New
Jersey State Reformatory at Rahway by Dr. Frank Moore.
* * * * *
Governor Major of Missouri will recommend legislation to provide for a
prison farm, 1000 acres in size to start with.
* * * * *
Road work by State prison convicts will start in a few weeks in
Wisconsin. The men will be paid a certain sum for their work.
* * * * *
Sir A. Conan Doyle recently visited Sing Sing, and agreed with
everybody but the legislators of the State of New York that Sing Sing
ought to go.
* * * * *
A commission has been authorized by the State of Pennsylvania and
appointed by the Governor, to consider revision of the penal laws. Two
of the members of the commission are Edwin M. Abbott of Philadelphia
and Warden McKenty of the Eastern Penitentiary.
* * * * *
On the first of July much more stringent regulations regarding the
sale and possession of cocaine and other habit-forming drugs came into
effect in New York State. A spectacular and effective campaign is now
being waged in New York City against dope-vendors.
* * * * *
More than seven hundred prisoners out of 2000 at San Quentin prison
have been taking correspondence courses given by the University of
California. Spanish is a favorite language to be studied.
* * * * *
At Sing Sing the new warden has started out well. He has given to the
inmates Saturday afternoon for recreation, and has introduced base ball
and other sports. If it works successfully the inmates will have a
recreation hour daily, at the close of the day’s work.
* * * * *