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37 chapters
Introduction
Introduction
Most of the following is true, or founded on truth. A few are waifs—products of my imagination; little stories that came into my mind from time to time. Some of them are from letters written home while I was confined in the Tombs Prison in New York City, and in the Death-Chamber at Sing Sing. In them I have not inflicted myself to any great extent upon the reader. Herein is chiefly what I saw when trying to look upon the bright side. There are also glimpses of the side which cannot be made brigh
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CHAPTER I The Room with the Little Door
CHAPTER I The Room with the Little Door
There are few who can describe life in the Death-Chamber at Sing Sing. The officials can, but will not. Visitors there are few; and most of us who know it so well, come and go like our predecessors, saying nothing afterwards about our experiences, for an excellent reason. The corridor in the Death-Chamber is not large. Ten cells for the condemned men face it, most of them on one side. Their inmates are not supposed to see much of each other. When one of our number walks in the corridor for exerc
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CHAPTER II “The Little Dead Mouse”
CHAPTER II “The Little Dead Mouse”
It would seem impossible for any one to escape from the Death-Chamber. But there is a story of one man who refused to stay, and who, under the very eyes of his keepers, without any privacy or apparatus, manufactured the poison with which he ended his life; for that is almost the only way you can end your stay in the Death-Chamber. The man’s crime, his history, does not affect this story, but his personality does. He was the quietest man of all; and men who are waiting death are usually quiet men
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CHAPTER III A Forbidden Song
CHAPTER III A Forbidden Song
Sometimes in the evenings, the Death-Chamber seemed quite a different place, and we all forgot our ennui because some one started a song. I have heard good singing there, and some of us understood music. So when “Eddy,” with his really good tenor, would start up something we all knew, books would close and pipes go out, and we all would join in and sing ourselves out of the blues. What did we sing? Everything, from “America,” with special gusto at the “Sweet land of liberty” part, to the last po
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SPRING IN THE DEATH-CHAMBER.
SPRING IN THE DEATH-CHAMBER.
This is a touching song by some true lover of dumb animals, written upon an occasion when one of them insisted upon sharing his couch:...
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MY RAT.
MY RAT.
Here is a particularly admired effort. It appealed to every member of our community on account of its spirited and militant sentiment. They say I wrote it. Undoubtedly it will appear in evidence against me in case of a new trial—hearsay evidence is “great stuff”:...
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DAWN.
DAWN.
The following admirable pastoral was written by a gentleman with a longing for the delights of rural life—or life of any other kind:...
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MY ONION.
MY ONION.
This is wilful peevishness: the protest of some professional kicker:...
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MY SOCKS.
MY SOCKS.
From one of those detestable individuals who wants everything:...
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SULKY ROLIE.
SULKY ROLIE.
It is natural for a man to strive for perpetual success; but we, who are to lose our lives, should bear lesser misfortunes with greater fortitude than is expressed by this poet. The editor is not in sympathy with his contributor:...
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CHESS.
CHESS.
In an early issue a gem of an epigram appeared, and straightway epigrams became the mode—we all affected them. The vogue was hard while it lasted. A dozen times a day I was assured over the wireless telephone (Nature’s) that Bill or Mike or another had a “bird” for the next issue. Here are some of them. This one was the “first offence.” If you like it, it is mine; but of course if any one is going to get mad about it, then another fellow, one of the dead ones, was its author. Is not its sentimen
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AN EPITAPH WHICH CANNOT BE USED TOO SOON.
AN EPITAPH WHICH CANNOT BE USED TOO SOON.
Another of great beauty and singularly apt. I have a shrewd suspicion that it refers to the same person:...
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TO A VERY LEARNED JUDGE.
TO A VERY LEARNED JUDGE.
Still another, evidently referring to the same respected jurist. It is a lofty and improving message from the Bench. I am very partial to this one:...
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HEARD IN COURT.
HEARD IN COURT.
Modesty restrains me from mentioning the author of this glittering example of pure idealism:...
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THE COLONEL.
THE COLONEL.
After a certain assistant district attorney, noted for his verboseness, had made his closing argument, the jury convicted the composer of this couplet. He seems to resent it:...
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THE JURY.
THE JURY.
To an assistant district attorney who proved nothing but his own desire for notoriety and his ability to make a noise and keep the Court of Appeals busy. Those who heard him sum up the first important case he ever had, and the one on which rests his reputation (for brutality and unfairness), may remember and see the application to a certain part of his closing address:...
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AN EPITAPH TO AN “ABLE ASSISTANT.”
AN EPITAPH TO AN “ABLE ASSISTANT.”
This reminds me of Longfellow (it is so different):...
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TO A CERTAIN EXPERT.
TO A CERTAIN EXPERT.
Some lyrics found their way into those columns. Here is only one of them, for I fear your interest, like the newspaper itself, has ceased:...
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CHAPTER V Fads
CHAPTER V Fads
The Death-Chamber is well worth studying. Our community is certainly interesting. Already I have made a discovery. Every one of us is busy. Here are many languages, temperaments, and moods, but we all have our fancies and our fads. For instance, there is the Italian next door who makes gorgeous picture frames from scraps of paper, decorating them with colored pencils; these are considerately furnished by the State to prevent him from going crazy. His creations are wonderful, and as his mood at p
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CHAPTER VI The Mayor of the Death-Chamber
CHAPTER VI The Mayor of the Death-Chamber
I had ruled undisputed for a year—it seemed a century. By common consent I was the acknowledged “Mayor of the Death-Chamber,” and very properly so, for was not I the oldest inhabitant? All questions were referred to me. I was the final court of arbitration; what I said “went.” This delightful state of affairs was undisturbed, even undisputed, until Benjamin appeared. Benjamin was a gentleman of color, a youth with a penchant for politics. Before he had been among us long enough to learn to appre
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CHAPTER VII A Psychological Experiment (A Chronicle of the Tombs)
CHAPTER VII A Psychological Experiment (A Chronicle of the Tombs)
It was in the old Tombs prison and in the old days which are past, when they hung men in its courtyard, and it was a very hot night in summer. Of all the human beings within its walls—keepers and kept—one man alone was there because he wanted to be. Not another beneath its old roof but would gladly have changed his position—on either side of the bars—for the free hot night without. It was blistering, and there was no breeze or beer to be obtained in the Tombs, and very little rest or sleep. Does
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CHAPTER VIII Me and Mike (A Chronicle of the Tombs)
CHAPTER VIII Me and Mike (A Chronicle of the Tombs)
“That’s me and Mike,” he exclaimed, reverently removing the newspaper covering and thrusting an old tintype into my hands. And then I recognized “Mike,” for he came to see my neighbor every day—in his mother’s arms. We (Mike’s father and I) were neighbors, and neighborly—which are two different things—and often walked together during exercise hours, I listening and he telling of the doings of the little “geezer” and the “tricks me and Mike have turned off together.” Yes, I knew Mike, and he grew
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CHAPTER IX “Old John” (A Chronicle of the Tombs)
CHAPTER IX “Old John” (A Chronicle of the Tombs)
Do funny things happen in the Tombs? Lord bless you, yes! Why, you have only to visit it to meet the prince of humorists. Come! He will be at the door to meet you; in fact he is “laying” for you, and will show you through the entire institution and out again—which is not a detail. He is affable to a degree, and you would be vastly amused if, like us, you were on the “inside.” But you will probably listen seriously; and although you will not lose a word of his remarks, you will lose all their exq
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CHAPTER X Her Friend (A Chronicle of the Tombs)
CHAPTER X Her Friend (A Chronicle of the Tombs)
Bridget, alias “The Rummager” (rummager means thief, pickpocket), was incorrigible; had always been so, and there were many reasons for it, such as heredity, environment, opportunity, habit. Bridget had been in the “Pen” (Penitentiary), the work-house, the Tombs. “Had been,” for “The Rummager” was free. She was just leaving the latter prison on the afternoon of Monday, February 24, 1902. There was money in her pocket. She had worked in the laundry doing washing for the aristocrats and millionair
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CHAPTER XI Life
CHAPTER XI Life
All that is enjoyable; all that one would possess, and do if one could, is summed up in this word—Life! What is it that the young would see? and the flight of which is regretted by the old? It is Life! This is the almost universal meaning of the word. You speak it, and think of dance and song, women and wine, sunlight, blue skies, and freedom. To us it has another meaning—try and imagine it. Sometimes when an important trial is closing and the jury is out till midnight perhaps, we, the inhabitan
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CHAPTER XII My Friend the Major
CHAPTER XII My Friend the Major
Without exception, the Major is one of the finest men I have ever met. I like him so much that I am willing to tell a truthful story, or rather, tell a story truthfully (which is a very different thing), at my own expense. It was this way: Benjamin had got religion. Benjamin preached a long sermon to us every single evening; he preached revival sermons, missionary sermons, and obituary ones on all the fellows who had gone through the “little door.” When he had exhausted these—and us, he would sa
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CHAPTER XIII A Dissertation on the Third Degree
CHAPTER XIII A Dissertation on the Third Degree
That the present condition of affairs regarding the administration of justice in New York City is unsatisfactory, will hardly be denied, while such glaring instances of recent incompetency are fresh in the public mind. The many comments and editorials appearing in the best metropolitan newspapers attest that our citizens are conscious of the defects in this department, while the press of other cities throughout the country, and even abroad, reminds us in no uncertain tones how we are regarded by
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CHAPTER XIV It’s Just Like Her (A Chronicle of the Tombs)
CHAPTER XIV It’s Just Like Her (A Chronicle of the Tombs)
The missionaries I have met! Mind, I am not speaking of the professional ones, those who are officially connected with the Tombs, or with Sing Sing prison; nor the chaplains. Years of experience have taught them their good work; they do it properly and without the aid of trumpets. Nor do I mean the ladies, who out of the goodness of their hearts, come and sing to us on Sundays. I am referring to those kind creatures who have made it their “life work” to come here occasionally and bestow tracts a
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CHAPTER XV “Shorty”
CHAPTER XV “Shorty”
Had I been the Governor of the State of New York, I would have pardoned “Shorty.” There was universal sorrow in the Death-Chamber when he died, for we knew his story, and every one of us felt that justice might have been satisfied in another way. Each of us had learned to respect this stupid-faced little fellow of five feet one inch; who walked with such heavy feet, and whose stooped shoulders were the result of a long life of excessive hard work, yet Shorty was only twenty-two years old. On arr
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CHAPTER XVI An Opinion on Expert Opinion(with special regard to the testimony of Experts in Handwriting)
CHAPTER XVI An Opinion on Expert Opinion(with special regard to the testimony of Experts in Handwriting)
The law admits opinion evidence by experts under certain conditions. This is doubtless right when such experts qualify as specialists who have prepared themselves by recognized methods regarding some department of science, art, or industry; and when their testimony is confined to stating facts and deductions only, omitting all abstract speculations. The admission of such testimony is, doubtless, necessary. The fields of science, art, and industry are enormous; and in each, one man during one lif
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ONCE IN A HUNDRED YEARS.
ONCE IN A HUNDRED YEARS.
There are unwritten laws and canons for all important occurrences in the Death-Chamber. I do not mean the prison rules; but the way “we” have of doing things. For instance, the new arrival, after he has passed through all formalities at the officials’ hands, and they are many, is initiated by “us” on the first night passed in our society. This is an ancient and honorable custom, and like all initiations, a secret. These fixed ceremonies occur all through his long and brutal life in the Death-Cha
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The Next Morning
The Next Morning
I have often read in the newspapers the supposed meal partaken of by the departing guest “furnished from the Warden’s table.” No newspaper reporter seems able to resist a description of the last breakfast, and no two papers ever publish the same one. Did the wretch gorge himself to the extent indicated, indigestion and not electricity would carry him off, and justice be cheated. No, he is not even stimulated to the extent of a cup of coffee, and for a good reason; a full stomach is not a good co
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CHAPTER XIX Impressions—Dawn in the Death-Chamber
CHAPTER XIX Impressions—Dawn in the Death-Chamber
I listened for the shrieking whistle of the milk train. It has come and gone, and the echoes have died away among the hills of Ossining, those beautiful hills, just—outside. The little family of sparrows who live in the skylight of the dead-house—I know each one by name—awake and angrily pipe their protest at the disturbance. Some of them fly down into the stale, tobacco-laden air and hop on the floor looking for crumbs. I can hear Shorty, at the other end of the corridor, in the last cell of al
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The Second Jury. Nov. 11, 1902.
The Second Jury. Nov. 11, 1902.
The jury sitting at my second trial has retired, and three years later I find myself under almost precisely similar circumstances to those just described. I will note the variations. The suspense, the doubt, should be worse than at the previous trial, knowing, as I do, what it is to be a convicted man, and what it would mean to go all through it again. I know it, all the way from the ceremony of passing the death sentence to the opening of the little door. Strangely enough, that same strain of m
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CHAPTER XXI Impressions—The Friendship of Imagination
CHAPTER XXI Impressions—The Friendship of Imagination
I found myself in the Death-Chamber; others were there. Our small community being an American institution, we were all “free and equal,” of course with the exception of the former. Unhappy, indeed, would be the life of any one in that room who did not recognize this equality. But most of my fellow citizens refused to exist in the present. Making of the Death-Chamber a half-way house, they alternately lived in the past, or died in the future; and they were perfectly logical in doing so; it was qu
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CHAPTER XXII The Last Story
CHAPTER XXII The Last Story
This is the story I can never tell, yet will spend all the rest of my life in telling—but how hopelessly. I cannot even think of it without something coming up into my throat to choke me. It is about my love for the soldier father, and the mother almost divine, who have suffered with and for me. I can no more express this emotion than the sorrow they have borne for me can be told. Ah, but both are written—written in the deeper lines upon their dear faces, and illustrated in their grayer hairs; w
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CHAPTER XXIII—APPENDIX “The Story of the Ring”By Vance Thompson(By the courtesy of the New York “Journal”)
CHAPTER XXIII—APPENDIX “The Story of the Ring”By Vance Thompson(By the courtesy of the New York “Journal”)
It was bludgeon against rapier which began yesterday; it was the battle-axe against the stiletto; it was Osborne against Molineux; and Molineux won. Never, I think, was so dramatic a duel fought out in a court-room. There was very little noise. The surface of it was quiet as a pool. The casual observer would have seen merely two men—the one in the witness chair and the other lounging against the lawyers’ table—who seemed to be exchanging polite commonplaces. They were courteous. Now and again th
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