THE JUVENILE COURT COMMISSION--HENRY.
Whilst I was in one of the Coast towns, the mail one day brought me the
following notification, which, rest assured, was at the time as the
"balm of Gilead," leading me to believe that God, who never makes any
mistakes, was going to take me into more definite work for the
unfortunate children.
Office of County Clerk, Santa Clara County, California. San Jose, Dec.
13, 1905.
Mrs. Florence Roberts, San Jose, Cal.
Dear Madam: You will please take notice that pursuant to an order made
this 13th day of December, 1905, by the Honorable M. H. Hyland, Judge
of the Superior Court, in and for the county of Santa Clara, State of
California, in Dep't 2 thereof and duly entered into the minutes of
said Court, that you have been appointed a member of the Probation
Committee of the Juvenile Court, and you are hereby directed to appear
in said Court on Monday, December 18, at 10 o'clock, A M. Very
respectfully, Henry A. Pfister, Clerk. By J. C. Kennedy, Deputy.
This changed the nature of my plans, though at first not interfering to
any great extent with the work already in hand.
As never before I began to get insight concerning the disadvantages
under which many a wronged child was, and is laboring, and oh! how I
thank and bless God that there is now protection and help for many
through the officers and the instrumentality of the Juvenile Courts.
This subject, however, will furnish material for another book;
therefore it will be but lightly touched upon at this time, for I want
to have you again visit with me San Quentin and on this occasion become
acquainted with Henry. I first heard of him through Captain Randolph,
captain of the yard, and next through Captain Sullivan; then I obtained
permission from Captain Ellis to interview this young man.
He was sentenced from ----- County to serve twenty-five years for
homicide. Over seven years had now expired, and seven, I assure you,
seems like twenty-seven, even more, to every one of these poor
prisoners. He was a very bright young man, aged about twenty-five
years, and he had the record of never having yet lost a single credit
since his incarceration. I listened with intense interest whilst he
told me this:
"I don't suppose I differed much from other boys in my school days, was
just as full of fun and mischief as any of them, but there was no real
harm in me that I knew of. My father is a miner, a prospector, always
on the lookout for, and locating, claims. Mother was always a
hardworking little woman, and raised a large family. We had a neighbor
who didn't like us, neither did he like my dog, which, just as any dog
will, intruded on his premises once too often; so he shot and killed
him, remarking with an oath as he did so, that there'd be more than one
dead dog if we didn't make ourselves scarce--anyhow, words to that
effect. The killing of my pet made me very mad. I am, unfortunately,
very quick tempered, though I soon cooled down. I felt as thought I
could have killed him then and there for his dirty meanness, but pretty
soon father and mother succeeded in quieting me.
"We had no more trouble or communication with these neighbors for some
time; then one day, when I was playing ball with some of the neighbor
boys with some potatoes, he happened to pass and one of the potatoes
struck him. It didn't hurt him a bit, but he ripped out an awful oath
at me, and called me and my mother by a name that no man with a spark
of spunk in him would stand for a minute. He threatened me at the same
time. I hurried home, changed my clothes, and told my father I was
going over to the county seat (near by) to have him bound over to keep
the peace, as I was afraid he would carry out his threat. Before I left
the house I took down father's gun. 'Henry, what are you doing? You put
that gun right back where you got it,' he said. 'I'll not do it,' I
replied. 'He's threatened to kill me. I'll need it for protection,' and
on I walked, too quickly for him to overtake me.
"As I was passing ----'s warehouse on the county road, this neighbor
walked into it out of his yard, and just as I came opposite the door he
stuck his head out and put his hand into his hip pocket. Before he got
a chance to shoot, I had shot him through the fleshy part of his right
hip. He lived several days. I feel sure he needn't have died, if given
proper care.
"I laid a long time in jail before the trial. My people were too poor
to get me all the defense I needed. Unfortunately, my lawyer, though a
brilliant man, was a drunkard. Father impoverished the whole family to
raise money to clear me, all to no effect. I am here for twenty-five
years, when I ought to be out trying to help make them comfortable in
their old age. I hear they are very, very poor. Oh, how I wish I could
help them!..."
He told me where they lived, and I resolved, God willing, to take a
trip, in the interests of Beth-Adriel, in that direction, and told him
I would try to see them, though making no promises toward aiding him in
gaining his freedom, for as yet I had only his word as to the truth of
this story.
It was a whole day's journey, and, being very tired on reaching my
destination, I did not look them up until morning. I can yet see that
very clean, poverty-stricken room. I sat on the only chair it
contained, the little mother sat on the bed, the father on an old
trunk. The father hadn't "struck it rich" yet. Prospectors are always
hopeful, sometimes realizing their hopes, but not often. The mother,
whenever able, worked in the fruit. In some way they managed to eke out
a bare but honest living. They could not have been much poorer.
We discussed Henry's case pro and con. Evidently he had not overdrawn
the truth. Before the day was over we were in consultation with a
friendly disposed attorney, who drew up petition papers. Before these
were out of the printer's hands, I had held conferences with several
people and clergymen, and had also made engagements in the interest of
Beth-Adriel. The Lord was touching hearts and money was being added to
its treasury. Soon I was doing double duty, aided by Henry's father. He
went on his bicycle from place to place in the county where this
homicide had been committed, whilst I took the stage or the train as
the case might require, speaking in his behalf as well as securing
funds for the home. Finally we reached the county seat. There I learned
from many--even officials--that Henry's sentence was unjust; but,
owing to their political positions, I could obtain very few of their
signatures. The judge who had sentenced Henry told me that he could not
sign, he being then the attorney for the widow of the dead man.
A very severe cold, threatening me with pneumonia caused me to leave
hurriedly for home, where for several days I was well-nigh prostrate.
There were many earnest prayers for my speedy recovery. These the dear
Lord heard and answered, so that before long the work so suddenly laid
down was, through his loving kindness and grace, resumed.
Henry's father sent by express the package of signatures he had
procured, and I felt the witness of the Spirit that we now had
sufficient. The next move, as I thought, was to present them at
Sacramento to the Governor. He received me most kindly, talked at
length on rescue work, Henry's case and other cases, etc., but informed
me that he would have no jurisdiction to act until the matter had been
duly presented after receiving the written approval of the board of
prison directors. At their next monthly meeting I was present; but,
owing to stress of other matters, Henry's case could not at this time
command their attention, nor for three successive meetings. Then
occurred an adjournment until July. Henry wrote that he could not
conscientiously ask me to come again, but the still, small voice bade
me try once more. Oh, praise the dear Lord for answering many prayers
in his behalf! Henry was granted his parole. The news was telephoned to
me early in the morning. I hurried down to Captain Ellis' office to
offer Henry my congratulations, but, above all, to direct his mind
toward the Author of his freedom. What a blessed opportunity to honor
the Master! and he promised to try to serve him thereafter.
Then he whispered something to the Captain, who replied, "Certainly,
you have my permission." Excusing himself, he hurried into the inner
yard. Presently he returned with an oblong box. Handing it to me, he
said: "Mother Roberts, I have long observed that your little autoharp
was wearing out. This one, my companion in my lonely hours, must now
take its place. I know the use you will make of it. I wish, how I wish,
you might be able to appreciate with what pleasure I make this slight
token of my eternal gratitude!"
I had not dreamed of my prayer for a new instrument being answered in
this manner, I having never learned that Henry was musical or possessed
any such thing. It was a much finer one than mine. Had I been presented
with a gold mine, I could not have felt better pleased. From that day
to this autoharp, No. 2, and I have been inseparable.
But I must proceed. Before taking up other matters, I will add this:
Henry made good for two years, received pardon from Governor Gillett,
married his faithful little sweetheart, and named his first little
daughter after me. A few days ago I received a letter telling of the
birth of another little daughter. He took up a claim, and he is now
farming his own homestead.
Many were, and no doubt still are, his trials and temptations. Not
always was there victory, but I am sure as he reads this that the tears
will come. He will probably retire to some quiet spot, fall on his
knees in gratitude to God, who pardons our sins even though they be
"red like crimson," and then ask him to guide him in the way he should
go and to help him to bring up his dear little family in the fear and
admonition of the Lord. May God forever bless Henry, his faithful
companion, and his dear children, is my earnest prayer.