IX
Jim laid the bottle on the bed and then sat down on his chair.
“My head begins to swim some but I guess I can finish the story all right. I know I’m pretty longwinded. Still I guess I can’t talk very much more if I wanted to. I’m glad the whiskey’s beginnin’ to get in its work; I don’t believe I’ll have much trouble gettin’ so drunk that I won’t know whether I’m goin’ to a hangin’ or a primary.
“Let me see; oh, yes, they hustled me into a cell and locked me up. I guess they thought best not to waste much time, for a good many people had got together on the outside.
“I think ‘twas on Friday they put me in. There wa’n’t nothin’ done on Saturday; but on Sunday they let us all go to church up in the chapel. They kep’ me pretty well guarded as if I might do somethin’ in the church, but there wa’n’t no way to get out if I wanted to. The preacher told us about the prodigal son, and how he repented of all his wanderin’s and sins and come back home, and how glad his father was to see him, and how he treated him better’n any of the rest that hadn’t never done wrong. He said that’s the way our Heavenly Father would feel about us, if we repented, and that it didn’t matter what we’d done—after we repented we was white as snow. One of the prisoners told me he was gettin’ kind of tired of the prodigal son; that ‘most every preacher that come told about the prodigal son just as if that story had been meant specially for them.
“Some of the prisoners seemed to like to go to church; some acted as if they understood all about it, and wanted to do better, and some of ‘em seemed to go so as to get out of their cells. Anyhow I s’pose the people that run the jail thought ‘twas a good thing and believed it was all so. But I know one feller that killed a man—he was kind of half-witted—and was tried the same as the rest of us when they had that crusade against crime. Of course they sentenced him to death. He got religion and used to pray all the time, and used to talk religion to all the rest of the fellers, and ever’one said that he was really sorry and was fully converted and was as pure as a little child. But they took him out and hung him anyway. It don’t quite seem as if they believed what the preacher said themselves, or they wouldn’t hang a feller when he’s turned right, and when God was goin’ to treat him like all the rest after he gets to heaven.
“When I went back to my cell, I begun thinkin’ about what I’d do. Of course I knew you can’t get any show without a lawyer, and I knew that I might just as well not have any as to have one that wa’n’t smart. I didn’t know any lawyer except the one that charged me ten dollars for nothin’, and of course I wouldn’t have him. But one of the guards was kind of nice and friendly to me and I thought I’d ask him. He told methat gettin’ a lawyer was a pretty hard matter. Of course, my case was a celebrated one, and would advertise a lawyer, but the best ones didn’t need no advertisin’ and the others wa’n’t no good. He told me that Groves was the best fighter, but it wa’n’t no use to try to get him for he’d got more’n he could do, and most of his time was took up prosecutin’ people for stealin’ coal from the railroads, except once in a while when some rich banker or politician got into trouble. Then he took a good slice of what he’d got saved up. I asked him ‘bout some others and he told me the same story of all the rest that amounted to anything. I told him I hadn’t got no money, and I thought the horse and wagon and furniture was took on the chattel-mortgage before this, and he said he s’posed the court would have to appoint someone and I might just about as well defend myself.
“Monday mornin’ they come to the jail and told me I had to go before the judge. I didn’t s’pose ‘twould come so soon, for I knew somethin’ about how slow the courts was. You remember when Jimmy Carroll was killed by the railroad? Well, that’s more’n three years ago, and the case ha’n’t been tried yet. I was su’prised and didn’t know what to do, but there wa’n’t much to do. They come after me and I had to go; so I put on my coat and vest and they han’-cuffed me to a couple of guards, and took me through some alleys and passages and over some bridges inside the buildin’, and first thing I knew they opened a door and I came into a room packed full of people, and the judge settin’ up on a big high seat with a desk in front of him, and lookin’ awful solemn and kind of scareful. As soon as I stepped in there was a buzz all over the room, and ever’body reached out their necks, and kind of got up on their chairs and looked at me. The guards took off my han’-cuffs and set me down in a chair ‘side of a big table. And then one of ‘em set back of me and another one right to my side.
“They waited a few minutes till ever’one got still, and then some feller got up and spoke to the judge and said ‘People against Jackson.’ The judge looked at me and said, just as solemn and hard as he could, ‘Jackson, stand up.’ Of course I done what he said, and then he looked the same way and said, ‘Are you guilty or not guilty?’ Of course I was kind of scared before all of them people; I’d never been called up in a crowd before, except a few times when I said a few words in the union where I knew all the boys. But these people were all against me, and anyhow it was an awful hard place to put a feller, so I stood still a minit tryin’ to think what I ought to say, and whether someone was there that I could talk to. Finally the judge spoke up and says, ‘The prisoner pleads not guilty.’ ‘Jackson, have you a lawyer?’ and then I said: ‘I hain’t got no lawyer.’ Then he asked if I wanted him to appoint one, and I told him I wished he would. He asked me who I’d have. Of course I thought I could choose anyone I wanted, so I said Groves. Then he laughed and ever’one else laughed, and he said he guessed Groves had too much to do to bother with me. So I chose one or two more names I’d heard of, and he said none of ‘em would do it neither. Then he said he’d give me till tomorrow to make up my mind who I wanted, and he told the bailiff to take me back to jail. So they put the han’-cuffs on and we went back through the alleys and over the bridges to the jail. When I got to my cell I asked the guard what hethought I ought to do about a lawyer, and he said that lots of lawyers had give him their cards and asked him to hand them to the prisoners and told him they would divide the fee, if they got any. They mostly wa’n’t much good for the business. He said there was one young feller who seemed pretty smart, but he hadn’t never had a case, but he’d probably work hard to get his name up. I told him that it didn’t seem as if a lawyer ought to commence on a case like mine, and he said that wouldn’t make any difference, most of the murder cases was defended by lawyers that was just startin’. There wa’n’t hardly anyone who was tried but was too poor to have a good lawyer. Then I told him to send me the young lawyer, and he did.
“The lawyer wa’n’t a bad feller, and he seemed interested in the case, and was the first person I’d seen since I done it who wanted to help me. Of course I could see he was new at the business, like one of them green-horns that comes in the yards the first time and brings a stick to couple cars with; but I liked his face and seen he was honest. It didn’t seem quite fair, though, that I should have a lawyer that hadn’t never had a case. I didn’t believe they’d take a young feller who was just out of a medicine-college and set him to cut off a leg all by himself, the first thing, or even take a country-jake and let him kill steers at the stock-yards, but I didn’t see no way to help it, and I thought mebbe if I didn’t take him I’d do worse instead of better. He asked me all about the case and seemed disappointed when I told him how it was; he said he was afraid there wa’n’t much show, unless he claimed insanity. I told him I didn’t see how he could make out that I was crazy; that I thought self-defense or somethin’ like that would be better. He said he’d think it over till tomorrow, and talk with some of the professors at the college, and be in court in the mornin’. The next day they come for me right after breakfast, and put on the han’-cuffs and took me to court again. The same kind of a crowd was there as the day before, and I was pretty badly scart; but my lawyer was at the table with me, and he spoke to me real friendly, and that made me feel a little better. Then the judge called the case, and asked if I had a lawyer, and my lawyer spoke up and said he was goin’ to defend me; so the judge said all right, and asked if the other side was ready. They said they was, and that they wanted the case tried right off. Then the judge asked my lawyer if he was ready and he said ‘no,’ that he’d just come into the case and hadn’t had no chance to get it ready. Then the lawyer on the other side said that I was notified yesterday that I must be ready today and I didn’t have anything to do but get ready; that they wanted to try it now; that next week he wanted to go to a picnic, and the week after to a convention, and it must be done now; then, there had been so many murders that no one was safe in Chicago, and the whole public was anxious to see the case tried at once. Besides there wa’n’t any defense. I had killed her and run away, and wa’n’t entitled to any consideration.
“My lawyer said it wouldn’t be right to put me on trial without a chance to defend myself, that I couldn’t get away yesterday to look up witnesses, and I had a right to a reasonable time; that he wanted at least four weeks to prepare the case. This seemed to make the judge mad. He said there wa’n’t no excuse for any delay, but as this was such a clear case he wanted to give me every chance he could, so hewould continue till next Monday. Then I was took back to the jail, and my lawyer met me over there and I told him ever’ place I went the day I done it, and ever’one I saw, and all about her, and what she’d done to make me mad, and he said he’d go out himself and look it up, and do what he could, but he was ‘fraid there wa’n’t no chance. The papers had said so much and the citizens had got up a Crime Committee, and ever’one who was tried either went to the penitentiary or got hung.
“Ever’day the lawyer would come and ask me something ‘bout the case, and tell me what he’d found out. He said he couldn’t get any witnesses to say anything; that the man where I got the beefsteak was ‘fraid to come and testify; that someone had been there from the State’s Attorney’s office and most scart him to death, and he was ‘fraid of gettin’ into trouble and gettin’ mixed up with it himself, and anyway he didn’t see as he’d do the case any good if he came. He said he couldn’t find anything that helped him a bit. He’d been to the house, but the poker and everything that would do any good had been taken by the state, and he didn’t know which way to turn. He kep’ comin’ back to my insanity, and asked me if any of my parents or grand-parents, or uncles or aunts or cousins, or anyone else was crazy. I told him I didn’t know anything ‘bout them but I didn’t think it was any use to try that. I knew what I was doin’, all right. Then he told me if I had a hundred dollars he could get a good doctor to swear I was crazy; but I hadn’t any hundred dollars of course, and besides I never thought ‘twould do much good. So I told him that he wa’n’t to blame for it, and to just do the best he could, and I’d be satisfied whichever way it went. I didn’t expect much myself anyhow. He said he’d have me plead guilty and the judge would most likely give me a life-sentence, only since this crusade against crime the judges dassent do that; there was so much said about it in the newspapers, and they was all ‘fraid of what the papers said. He told me that he didn’t believe it was anything more than second-degree murder anyhow, but there wa’n’t any chance now, the way public opinion was.
“I begun to get pretty well acquainted with the prisoners in the jail and some of ‘em was real nice and kind and wanted to do all they could to help ever’one that was in trouble. Of course some of ‘em was pretty desp’rate, and didn’t seem to care much for anything. Then there was some that had been in jail ten and fifteen times, and been in the penitentiary, and ever’where, and just as soon as they got out they got right back in again; they didn’t seem to learn anything by goin’ to prison, and it didn’t seem to do them any hurt. They said they’d just as soon be there as anywhere else.
“But one thing I noticed a good deal that I never thought anything about until that feller come and spoke, that was how that the outsiders was really the ones that got punished the worst. It was sickenin’ to see how some of them poor women would cry and take on because their man was in jail, and how they’d work and scrub night and day and nearly kill themselves to earn money to get him out; and then the little children that come to see their fathers, how they’d stay out of school and work in the packin’-houses and laundries and do anything for a little money to help them out. Hones’ly I believe if anyone stays ‘round here for a week he’ll see that the people that ain’t done nothin’ is punisheda good deal more’n the others. Why, there was one awful pretty-lookin’ girl used to come here to see her father, and the fellers told me that she was studyin’ music or somethin’ like that, and her father was put in jail on a fine, and she came here to see him every day, and done all she could to earn the money to get him out, but she couldn’t do it, and finally she went into one of them sportin’ houses down on Clark Street, and lived there long enough to get the money. I don’t know, of course, whether it’s so, but I don’t see why not. Lots of the girls go to the department stores and laundries and stock-yards and they ain’t much harder places on a girl’s health. Anybody’ll do everything they can to earn money to save anyone they care for.
“Well, the week went away pretty fast. I didn’t s’pose ‘twas so hard to get a case continued. You know that Carroll case? You remember we quit our work four or five times and lost our pay, and the judge continued it just because the lawyer had somethin’ else to do. But I knew ‘twouldn’t be no use for me to try to get mine continued any more. And I didn’t care much. I was gettin’ so I’d just about as soon be done with it as not, and still I was pretty sure I’d be hung.
“The next Monday mornin’ I was taken into court the same way, and the han’-cuffs was unlocked, and I was set down to the table by my lawyer. One guard set just back of me and the other at the side. Someone started a story that a gang of Bridgeport toughs was comin’ to rescue me, but of course there wa’n’t nothin’ in it. I didn’t have a friend that even come to see me—but the newspapers all printed the story, and, of course, that was against me too.
“When the judge called the case, he asked if we was ready, and my lawyer said he needed more time; that he’d done all he could to get ready, but he hadn’t had time. But the judge wouldn’t pay a bit of attention to him, and said he must go to trial at once, and told the bailiff to call a jury. So the bailiff called the names of twelve men and they took their seats in two rows of chairs along one side of the room. Ever’ one of ‘em looked at me as if he didn’t like to be in the same room where I was. Then the lawyers commenced askin’ ‘m questions—where they lived, and how long they had lived there, and where they lived before, and how much rent they paid, and what they worked at, and how long they’d worked there, and what they’d done before, and what their fathers done, and where they come from, and was they dead, and if they was married, and how many times, and if they had children, and how many, and how old, and if they was boys or girls, and if the children went to school, and what they studied, and if they belonged to the church, and what one, and if they belonged to any societies or lodges or labor unions, or knew anyone, or read the papers, or didn’t believe in hangin’ people, and if they believed in ‘circumstantial evidence,’ and if they’d hang on circumstantial evidence, and if they believed in the law—and a lot of other things that I can’t remember. If anyone didn’t believe in hangin’ he was let go right away; and if they didn’t believe in circumstantial evidence they didn’t keep ‘em either.
“The other lawyer asked questions first and it didn’t take him very long to get the ones that he wanted. Ever’one said he believed in hangin’, and they all said they’d hang anybody on circumstantial evidence. After he got through my lawyer questioned ‘em. They all saidthat they’d read all about the case, and had formed an opinion about it—and they all looked at me as if they had. Then my lawyer objected to ‘em, and the judge said to each one, ‘Well, even if you have formed an opinion, don’t you think you could lay that aside and not pay any attention to it, and try the case on the evidence and give the prisoner the benefit of the doubt? Don’t you think that in spite of the opinion you could presume him innocent when you begin?’ Most of ‘em said they could; one of ‘em said he couldn’t. Then the judge lectured him for not bein’ able to give anyone a fair trial, no matter who he was, and said we’d have to take the others, and told us to go ahead and get another one. So my lawyer tried another one and found him just like the rest. But the judge made us take him anyway. He said they was perfectly fair jurors, and we couldn’t expect to get men that sympathized with crime.
“It ain’t any use to tell you all about gettin’ the jury, and then I hain’t got time. Both sides had a right to strike off twenty without any reason at all, only that they didn’t like ‘em. We took a long time to get a jury. We didn’t get much of any until after we had struck off ‘most all of our twenty. All the jurors seemed to have made up their minds, but pretty nearly all of ‘em said it didn’t make any difference; they could give me a fair trial even if their minds was made up.
“I noticed that they struck off workin’-men and Catholics, and people that didn’t have any religion, and foreigners, and I noticed my lawyer struck off Baptists, and Presbyterians, and Swedes, and G. A. R.’s. It took three or four days to get the jury, and then we hadn’t any more challenges left, and so we had to take ‘em. Pretty near ever’one of ‘em said they’d read all about the case in all the papers and had their minds made up. I knew, of course, that meant they was against me. But still they all said that didn’t make no difference if they had got their minds made up, they could forget their opinions and go at the case as if they believed I was innocent. But ever’one of ‘em said he believed in hangin’, and all of ‘em said that circumstantial evidence was good enough for him. I set there ‘side of the table with my lawyer and looked ‘em over, and tried to make up my mind what they was thinkin’ of, but they wa’n’t one of ‘em would look at me when they knew I was lookin’, and I could see from the way they did that they was sure all the time that I done it, and ought to swing. Of course, I know it’s the law that when a feller’s placed on trial they’re s’posed to be innocent, but I knew that the judge and all them twelve men felt sure I was guilty or I wouldn’t have been there. Of course I done it. I don’t know anything that would’ve done any good, but all the same it’s pretty tough to be tried by a jury when they think you ought to be hung before they commence.
“After they got the jury the other lawyer told ‘em about the case, and he made it awful black. I don’t know how he ever found out all the things he said. Of course a good many of ‘em was true and a good many wa’n’t true, but he made out that I was the worst man that ever lived. The judge listened to ever’ word he said and looked over to me ever’ once in a while, as if he wondered how I ever could’ve done it, and was glad that I was where I belonged at last. The jury watched ever’ word the lawyer said, and looked at me ever’ once in a while to see howI stood it. Of course it was mighty hard, but I done the best I could. When he got through the judge asked my lawyer what he had to say, and he said he wouldn’t tell his side now. Then they commenced puttin’ in the evidence.
“I s’pose you read all about it at the time, but the papers always gave me the worst of it, and the evidence wa’n’t near so bad as it looked in the papers. Of course they proved about the boy goin’ out the next mornin’ to the neighbors, and cryin’ for his pa and ma, and about ever’one lookin’ all over for us without findin’ us nor any trace of either one, and about the horse and wagon both lookin’ as if it had been out all night. And then the folks as lived next door told about hearin’ me say ‘you damned bitch,’ and hearin’ someone fall, though they didn’t think much of it then as they’d heard so many rows before. And then they told about findin’ a piece of brown paper covered with blood, and then they brought in a doctor, or someone who said he’d examined it with a magnifyin’ glass and it was human blood. He wa’n’t quite sure whether it was a gentleman or a lady; but he knew ‘twas one or the other. Then they brought in the paper and handed it to the jury, and passed it down along both rows, and ever’one took it in his hand and felt it, and looked at it just as if they never had seen any paper like that before, and wanted to make sure ‘twas paper and not cloth. Of course the minute I seen it I knew it was the paper that had the beefsteak in it, and I told my lawyer what it was. An’ I got right up to say something and the judge looked at me just as cross and says ‘Set down and keep still; you’ve got a lawyer to talk for you, and if you say anything more, I’ll send you to jail.’ Of course I was scart to hear him speak to me that way before the jury and the whole room full of people, and I knew that it would show ever’one that the judge was against me. Some of the papers next day made out that I jumped up and was goin’ to run away when I seen the bloody paper.
“My lawyer had another doctor examine a piece of the paper that night, and he said it was a cow or an ox, but he wouldn’t come and testify to it unless I’d give him a hundred dollars, but of course I didn’t have that. The court room was awful still when they passed around that paper; you could hear the jurors breathe and they held their heads down as if they felt sorry about somethin’. And after they’d looked it all over the lawyer took it, and the judge says: ‘Let me see that paper,’ and he put on his spectacles and looked it all over, first on one side and then on the other. He had a little bit of a magnifyin’ glass in one hand, and he put it over the paper and looked at it through the glass, and then he looked at me just as solemn as if it was a funeral, and I seen it was all up with me. Of course, I told my lawyer just where I got it and what it was, and he went down to the butcher shop and seen the man, but the man was ‘fraid to come, and said he didn’t remember ‘bout the steak nor about me; he guessed he’d seen me—I used to come down that way to peddle—but he couldn’t tell whether I was in the shop that night or not.
“Then they brought the boys who had found her in a pool ofwater out on the prairie two or three days after, and they brought some of the clothes she had on. They was all covered with mud, and they passed ‘em all around to the jury and the judge, just the same as they did the paper. Of course, these did look pretty bad, and they made me feel kind of faint, for I’d thought about her a good deal the last few days, and dreamed about her almost every night, and sometimes I’d dream that ever’thing was all right, and then wake up and remember just how ‘twas. I don’t know which is worse: to dream that the thing was done and see it all before you, just as if you were doin’ it all over again, and then wake up and know it was a dream, and then know it was so, or to dream that you’re livin’ together all right and are happy, and then wake up and find that’s a dream, and you’re in jail for murder and can’t never get out alive.
“Then they proved about how the poker just fit into the place in her head, and how it was took back into the kitchen and put into the ashes again, so ‘twouldn’t show, and how far I drove that day, and ever’ saloon I stopped into on the way, and just how much I drank, and ever’thing I done, except the beefsteak I bought and that half peck of potatoes that I gave away to the old lady. Then they proved all about my runnin’ away, and where I’d been, and what I’d done, and my changin’ my name, and the way I was caught.
“A good many times my lawyer objected to something that they tried to prove, or to something that the other feller was sayin’, but ever’ time the judge decided ‘gainst my lawyer, and he ‘most always seemed kind of mad when my lawyer said anything. The other one was a good deal the smartest; ever’one said he wanted to be a judge, and he took all the murder cases he could get, and they called him the ‘hangin’ lawyer,’ because ever’one he had anything to do with got hung.
“There was always a big crowd in the court room ever’ day, and a lot of people waitin’ outside to get in, and there was always some awfully nice dressed ladies settin’ up there with the judge ever’ day, and they had a sort of glass in their hands, and they’d hold it up in front of their eyes and look at me through the glass just like the judge looked at the paper.
“It took about two days for their side to call all the witnesses they had, and finally their lawyer got up just as solemn and said that was their case.
“Then the judge give them a few minutes recess for ever’body to walk around a little, and ever’one looked at me, just as they’d done all the time. When they come to order the judge told us to go on with our side. My lawyer turned to me and said he didn’t see what use it was to prove anything, and we might just as well let the case go the way it was. I said I ought to go on the stand and tell about that paper, and how it was nothin’ but the one that come around the beef, and he said they wouldn’t believe me if I said it. And anyhow it wouldn’t make any difference. If I once got on the stand they’d get me all mixed up and the first thing I knew I’d tell ‘em all about ever’thing, and so far as witnesses went he couldn’t find anyone to do me any good.
“I thought ‘twould look pretty bad not to give any evidence at all, and he said he knew that but ‘twould look a mighty sight worse if we put any in. So my lawyer got up and ever’one watched to see what he was goin’ to do, and then he just said ‘May it please the court, we have concluded not to put in any evidence.’ And ever’one commenced to whisper, and to look at me, and to look ‘round, and the judge looked queer and kind of satisfied, and said then if there was no evidence on our side they would take a recess till mornin’ when they could argue the case. Of course, after I went back to the cell and got to thinkin’ it over I could see that it was all off more’n ever, but I didn’t see that the lawyer could have done any different.”
Here Jim got up and went to the grating and called to the guard.
“I’m gettin’ a little tired and fagged out and it ain’t worth while to go to bed. Won’t you just give me some more whiskey?”
The guard came up to the door. “Of course, you can have all the whiskey you want,” he said. “Here’s a bottle I’ve just fetched up from the office. You’d better drink that up and then I’ll get you some more.”
Jim took a long drink at the bottle, and then passed it to his friend. Hank was glad to have something to help him through the ordeal, which had been hard for him to bear.
Presently the guard came back to the grating and asked Jim what he wanted for breakfast.
“It ain’t breakfast time yet, is it?” Jim gasped.
“No, but I’m going to the office after a while and I want to give the order when I go. You’d better tell me now. You can have ‘most anything you want. You can have ham and eggs, or bacon or steak, and tea or coffee, and bread and butter and cakes; or all of ‘em—or anything else you want.”
“Well, I guess you’d better bring me ham and eggs. I don’t seem to care for steak, and I don’t think I want any coffee. I’d rather have a cocktail. You’d better bring me plenty more whiskey too when you come. You know I hain’t slept any and I’m kind of nervous. I guess it’ll be better if I don’t know much about it; don’t you?”
“Sure thing,” the guard answered back. “We’ve got some Scotch whiskey over there that’s all right. I’ll bring you some of that. All the boys takes that. I don’t think you’ll be troubled much after a good drink of that Scotch. I guess you’d better hurry up a little bit with what you want to say. I don’t like to hurry you any, but I’m afraid they’ll be along with the breakfast after while, and they don’t allow any visitors after that.”
The guard turned to leave, but before he had gone far, Jim called out, “You’d better telephone over to the telegraph office, hadn’t you? Somethin’ might have come maybe.”
“All right, I’ll do that,” the guard answered back, “and Jim, I guess you might as well put on them new clothes before breakfast; they’ll look better’n the old ones—to eat in.”