The Press and the Public.
I might almost head this chapter, "My Critics," for both press and
public are constantly criticising my doings. The criticism is generally
friendly, though often based on incomplete knowledge of the facts. Of
the press-men I must say that they usually seem most kindly disposed,
and certainly many of them go to great trouble to extract from me a
few statements which they can spin out into an "interview." As a rule
I dislike these interviews, for I know that my employers very strongly
object to any more sensationalism than is absolutely necessary being
imported into the accounts of executions. Unfortunately, with many of
the papers, sensationalism is the one thing needful, and when I meet
with a really energetic reporter attached to such a paper my position
is a very difficult one. If I say little or nothing in answer to his
questions, he may spin a fearful and wonderful yarn out of his own
head, and out of the gossip and rumours which seem to be constantly
afloat, started, I imagine, by needy penny-a-liners. On the other
hand, if I submit to the interview as the best way of keeping it
within bounds, the "touches of colour" which the interviewer generally
thinks it necessary to add, are pretty sure to land me in bother and
misunderstanding.
In several instances statements which were calculated to seriously
injure me professionally have been published; and though I believe they
were inserted with no evil intent, I have been obliged to employ my
solicitors to secure their contradiction.
The instance which annoyed me, perhaps, more than any other was the
reporting of a supposed interview in the _Essex County Chronicle_. It
was said to be from "an occasional contributor." The interviewer in
question tackled me in the hotel where the Sheriff pays the execution
fee; entering the room immediately after I had been paid, and just as
the Sheriff was driving off. He asked me two or three questions about
private matters, which I answered truthfully and straightforwardly,
though I was somewhat annoyed by the man and his manner. The
"interview" which appeared quite shocked me. Several of the statements
were utterly wrong, but what troubled me most was the following
paragraph, which was quite at variance with the actual facts, and with
the statements which I had made:--
"And what do your friends think of the profession you have taken
up?" I asked.
"It killed my mother and brother," he mournfully replied. "When
Marwood died I was appointed in his place, and directly my mother
knew of it she was taken ill. My father's solicitor then wrote to
the Home Office, informing the authorities of this. The result
was that I gave up the position, and Binns got the appointment.
My mother died soon afterwards, though, and then, when I saw the
way in which Binns was going on, I came to the conclusion that he
would not hold the place long, and I again wrote to the Home Office
stating that my mother was dead and that there was nothing now to
prevent my accommodating them if my assistance should be required.
Soon after that I was engaged to hang two men at Edinburgh, and I
have carried out nearly all the executions since then. My brother
had married a girl with plenty of money, and his pride received a
blow on my appointment. That was the cause of his death. He was a
Liberal and in favour of abolishing capital punishment, but I am
a Conservative through and through. Altogether I have buried my
mother, two brothers, and two aunts within the last three years."
This was a false and cruel paragraph, the actual facts with regard
to the deaths of my relatives being as follows:--1. My aunts died
before I took the office, or thought of doing so. 2. My mother died
from cancer on the liver, from which she had been suffering for a long
time before I applied for the post; and she died between the time of
my first application and the time of second application, when I was
appointed for the double execution at Edinburgh. 3. My brother died of
low fever, after I had held the office of executioner for about four
years.
I do not wish to deny that my choice of the calling of executioner was
a disappointment and annoyance to my family; but to say that it caused,
or hastened the death of any one of them is to say that which is not
true. If I thought that it had really had any such disastrous effect, I
hope I am not such a callous and hardened wretch as to make the matter
the subject of discussion with a stranger.
One would almost have thought that such statements as the one extracted
above would bear their refutation on their face, and that there would
be no need to contradict them; but the matter was seriously taken up
by the _Daily News_, which made it the subject of a leader, and other
papers all over the country extracted from, or commented upon the
matter in the _Daily News_.
Of course, I put the matter into the hands of my solicitors, who took
steps to stop the original libel, but they were naturally unable to
stop its circulation through the country.
Another affair which caused me much annoyance at the time arose in
Hereford, from the greed for interesting and sensational "copy" shown
by a member of the staff of the _Hereford Times_. He got up some
sensational matter to the effect that after the execution of Hill and
Williams I retired to a neighbouring hotel where a smoking concert was
in progress, and there held a ghastly levee. The worst of this report
was that it was based on some foundation of fact, and that a mere
colouration of the report made a reasonable and perfectly innocent
entertainment appear as if it was something shameful.
The actual facts were that after the execution I was in company with
Alderman Barnet, Mayor of Worcester, and a detective sergeant, both of
whom were personal friends of mine. With Alderman Barnet I was invited
to a social evening held by some of his friends. It was a perfectly
private party, and was decorously conducted in every way. When the
_Times_ representative appeared, as he was known to the gentlemen
present, he was invited to join us, simply as a friend. The report of
the party was much talked about at the time, and Sir Edwin Lechmere,
M.P. for Hereford, made it the subject of a question in the House of
Commons.
From time to time a very great number of incorrect and exaggerated
statements have been made in the press with regard to almost every
detail of my work, and I suppose that so long as the public have a love
for the marvellous, and so long as press-men have treacherous memories
or vivid imaginations, it will continue to be so. My enormous income
is one of the subjects on which the papers most frequently get astray,
and it has often been asserted that my earnings amounted to a thousand
a year. I only wish that it might be so, if I could make it from an
increase of fee rather than an increase in the number of executions,
but the reader has in other places correct statements of what my income
really amounts to. I never bear malice against my friends of the press
for these little distortions of fact, for I know that they mean no
harm, and on the whole they have always used me very well.
With regard to the public, their curiosity to see me is much greater
than my desire to satisfy it. I have no wish to be followed about and
stared at by a crowd, as if I were a monstrosity, and in many cases
I have had to go to some trouble to baulk them. This I can do to a
certain extent by travelling by other trains than the one I am expected
by. In some cases where there are two or three railways into a town,
one of which is the direct line from Bradford, I take the direct line
to some local station, and there change into a train of another line
or into some train running on some local branch line, and so arrive
unobserved. At Newcastle, after the execution of Judge, there was a
big and enthusiastic crowd waiting to see me and my assistant depart.
There were one or two men in the crowd who knew me by sight, and they
knew the train by which we were to travel, so they made a raid on the
station, and in spite of the efforts of the railway officials and
police to keep the place clear they burst through the barriers with a
howl of exultation and filled the platform. The plan by which we evaded
them was very simple. We walked over the river to Gateshead, and booked
from there to Newcastle. Arriving by train in the midst of the people
who were looking for us, we attracted no attention whatever, because
the folks who knew me were near the entrance gates, expecting us to
come into the station in the ordinary way. As we had our tickets for
Bradford with us, we simply crossed the platform to our own train, and
in due time steamed southward, leaving the disappointed crowd under the
firm impression that we had not entered the station.
The first time that I went to Swansea there was a large crowd of people
waiting to see me, but they were disappointed, for I had made a little
arrangement which completely upset their calculations. It happened that
I travelled from Shrewsbury to Swansea with a gentleman who is well
known in the latter town. In the train we entered into conversation,
and I found that his carriage was to meet him at the station. I
therefore asked him if he could recommend me to a good hotel, and was
delighted when he said that he would drive me to one, which was just
what I wanted. He did not know who I was, and the little crowd that was
watching never imagined that the executioner would be riding in their
townsman's carriage. Of course, I did not want to stay at the hotel,
because I was to lodge in the gaol, but I thanked my friend for the
lift, walked into the hotel for a glass of beer while he was driving
away, and then walked up to the prison without anyone suspecting my
errand.
Whenever I have been in actual contact with crowds in England,
their attitude has been friendly. In Ireland such knots of people
as may gather are usually the reverse. In England, if there is any
sort of demonstration, it is a cheer; in Ireland it is hooting and
groaning. But it is seldom, in England, that I meet with any personal
demonstration. The crowds that assemble outside the gaols when
executions are in progress, are interesting studies. They hail the
hoisting of the black flag with a cheer or a groan, that indicates
their opinion of the merits of the case. It is curious to notice how
the sympathies of this section of the public lean one way or the other,
often without any apparent reason. This thought occurred to me very
forcibly at the executions of Israel Lipski and William Hunter, who
were hanged within a few months of each other.
[Illustration: Israel Lipski.]
At Lipski's execution the crowd was the largest I have ever seen, many
of the people remained hanging about for hours. The excitement was
intense, but there was no sympathy for the prisoner. There were many
Jews in the crowd, and wherever they were noticed they were hustled
and kicked about, and insulted in every imaginable manner; for the
hatred displayed by the mob was extended from Lipski to his race. When
the black flag was hoisted it was received with three ringing cheers.
Altogether, the crowd showed the utmost detestation of the murderer.
And yet his crime was no worse than the majority of murders, and there
were many things connected with it, and with the circumstances of
the miserable man's life, both before and after, which I should have
expected to excite some little sympathy; at any rate, amongst people in
a similar station of life.
Hunter's execution was the next but one to Lipski's, and his crime
was one which has always seemed to me about the most heartless I
ever heard of. Hunter was a striker in a foundry by trade, but a
tramp by choice. He left his wife and two children and went on tramp,
eventually striking up a sort of partnership with a Scotch woman who
had six illegitimate children. One of these, a little girl between
three and four years of age, went tramping with them, and of course,
the poor wee mite was utterly unfit for the exposure and the many
miles of walking which they made her accomplish daily. Hunter and the
woman were both cruel to the child, and carried their cruelty to such
an extent that on one occasion at any rate, they were remonstrated
with, and eventually turned out of a common lodging-house on account
of their conduct. At last, one day after a long tramp, the little
mite began to cry from weariness, and Hunter, to stop her crying,
beat her with a switch. Later, for the same purpose, he thrashed her
with a stick that he picked up in the road. Still later in the day he
continued his ill-treatment until he had beaten the life out of the
poor little creature. In justice to the man--or brute--it should be
said that when he found that the child was insensible (it was really
dead), he fetched water to bathe its poor battered head; and when he
realised that it was dead he cut his own throat and very nearly killed
himself--but these considerations seem very little extenuation for the
harsh brutality of his conduct. One would have thought that the man
who had thus heartlessly tortured to death a helpless child would have
been execrated by all men; yet the crowd that assembled at Hunter's
execution wore quite a holiday air. There were some 1500 people,
most of whom laughed and jested. When the flag was run up there was
no demonstration, perhaps the Carlisle people are not demonstrative.
However that may be, the contrasted conduct of the crowds at the two
executions struck me forcibly; and though it is sad that men should
rejoice at the death of a fellow-man, if the cheers had been given at
Hunter's death which greeted the death of Lipski, I think they would
have been more natural and more English than light jests and laughter.