The Trial of the Anarchist Murderer Czolgosz
President McKinley was shot at the
Pan American Exposition, in Buffalo, N. Y., about four o’clock in
the afternoon of September 6th, 1901. It was in the beautiful Temple
of Music, where the President was giving his hand to every one,
without distinction, and without the thought that any one could
harbor such malice against him. He died in the early hours of September
14th. The assassin, Leon F. Czolgosz, alias Fred R. Nieman, was
arrested, indicted, tried and on September 24th, was convicted by
the jury of murder in the first degree, after a trial very remarkable
in many of its features, and which, in spite of its swift meting
out of justice to the accused, was conducted in the most dignified
and seemly manner. Under the law of the State of New York, a person
condemned to death cannot be executed for at least one month after
the sentence of death is pronounced upon him. On September 26th,
the sentence of the Court was pronounced upon Czolgosz, that in
the week beginning on the 28th of October, 1901, at the place, in
the manner and by the means prescribed by law, he suffer the punishment
of death. The time of execution was at any hour during the week
following the 28th of October; the manner of execution, as prescribed
by law, was electrocution; the time was to be determined by the
Warden of the State Prison at Auburn, where the prisoner was at
once taken. On October 29th, 1901, Czolgosz was duly electrocuted
in the electric chair at the State Prison at Auburn.
The horror inspired in the minds of
the hundreds of thousands of people in Buffalo, as soon as the news
of the bloody deed had swept through the city,—the intense rage
of the thousands who were in sight or hearing of the pistol shots
aimed at the distinguished guest of the occasion, might easily have
found expression in the instant annihilation of the assassin by
such a wave of righteous indignation as would have swept him from
the face of the earth. Had this happened, how many are there who
would not in their secret [80][81]
souls have exulted? The justice of it, though rude, would have seemed
to most of us to be altogether fitting. But the President, pierced
by the murderous bullet, and lying writhing with pain in the arms
of his horror stricken friends, evidently seeing the mass of guards
who had instantly seized and thrown themselves upon the cruel wretch,
said: “Let no man hurt him.” At once the reign of law prevailed,—righteous
passion gave way, and the miserable life of the slayer was spared
to be weighed in the scales that turn only in obedience to the time-honored
rules of orderly legal procedure, which safeguard the trial of the
guilty and the innocent with rigid impartiality.
Czolgosz was removed from the Temple
of Music, but not without difficulty. The police and the soldiers
fairly fought their way through the mass of people to a carriage
in which he was swiftly driven from the exposition grounds to police
headquarters. Guards were everywhere around him, but less to prevent
his escape, for that was impossible, than to protect him from the
violence of maddened men. But no harm came to him,—none was offered,
and he was soon placed in secure keeping to await the outcome of
his infamous deed. If the President survived, the would-be assassin
could be tried only for the crime of assault with intent to kill,
the penalty for which was ten years’ imprisonment. All deplored
the total inadequacy of the punishment in this particular case,
for such a crime.
The District Attorney of Erie County,
Thomas Penney, thought it advisable to take no formal action against
the murderer until the result of his act was definitely determined.
So the world waited. The world was indeed deeply affected. From
the rulers of almost every civilized nation came messages of condolence
and regret. To them such an event had a deeper significance than
the mere death of the President of a great power. It was a startling
revelation of the dread possibility that lurked in every gathering
of the people to do honor to their chief. If, in the great republican
United States, the freest of all governments and the asylum of the
oppressed, one could be inspired to strike a blow at its head in
the cause of so-called liberty, what might not be expected as a
constant menace in other countries where governmental rule bears
more heavily upon the people? The world was shocked and waited the
issue between life and death.
For eight days the President lived.
Or, in the quaint language of the indictment which was subsequently
found by the grand jury: [81][82] “He,
the said William McKinley, from the said sixth day of September,
in the year aforesaid, until the fourteenth day of September, in
the same year aforesaid, in the city and county aforesaid, did languish
and languishing did live; on which said last mentioned day he, the
said William McKinley, of the said mortal wound did die.”
The said “last mentioned day” was
Saturday. On Sunday morning simple funeral services were held at
the home of John G. Milburn, President of the Exposition, with whom
President McKinley had stayed during his visit to Buffalo, and where
he died. Afterwards the body was removed to the City Hall, where
it lay in state while an opportunity was given to tens of thousands
of the people to take a last look at the face of the President.
On Monday the dead President, with his wife and relatives, the members
of his cabinet accompanied by Theodore Roosevelt, the new President,
with a committee of citizens of Buffalo, journeyed to Washington,
where for a night he rested in the White House, the home of the
Presidents, until the last stage of his journey to the grave was
begun the following day, to Canton, Ohio.
At ten o’clock on Monday, the same
day that saw the dead body of the President removed from Buffalo,
Mr. Penney, the District Attorney, presented the evidence of the
killing of President McKinley to the grand jury of the County Court
of Erie County, which was then in session. Twenty-eight witnesses
were before the grand jury giving evidence of the facts concerning
the shooting of the President by Czolgosz, and his death from the
effects of the gunshot wound. The examination was conducted with
the utmost care and was full and complete. The case was then left
for the consideration of the jury.
The grand jury found and reported
to County Judge Emery, at 4.40 p. m., an indictment charging Czolgosz
with the murder of the President in the first degree. An hour later
Czolgosz was brought into court for arraignment, handcuffed to the
wrist of a police officer, and surrounded by others. In accordance
with a most ancient procedure, the prisoner, although under an indictment
of the most high nature, could not be arraigned in irons, or any
manner of shackles or bonds. (4 Blackstone Com. ch. 25, 323).
The handcuffs were removed from his
wrists and he stood facing the court.
If any one has imagined the assassin
of the President to be the typical anarchist murderer of desperate
mein, he would have been dis- [82][83]
appointed at the sight of Czolgosz. He was of medium height and
size, fair complexion and hair, with a face not bad, but rather
simple and loutish in its expression. He would pass anywhere for
a very ordinary country boy, with but little experience of the world.
When the hand-cuffs were removed,
District-Attorney Penney said to him: “Czolgosz, have you got a
lawyer?” He made a motion with his head, but said nothing. Again
the District Attorney asked the question, and again the prisoner
made no sign. He looked at Mr. Penney, giving him a simple stare.
“Czolgosz, you have been indicted
for murder in the first degree. Do you want counsel to defend you?”
The accused made no more sign than if he was deaf to the District
Attorney’s voice. “Czolgosz, look at me and answer,” Mr. Penney
insisted. But it was as if spoken to a wooden image.
Mr. Penney then said to the Court
that as Czolgosz declined to answer he would suggest that counsel
be assigned to defend the man, and to ascertain what he had better
do on the plea to the indictment before arraignment. Judge Emery
then asked the prisoner if he had counsel, but elicited no further
reply than before. It had been generally understood by the bar of
Buffalo, who were watching the proceedings with deepest interest,
that Czolgosz would not employ any counsel of eminence, and if he
selected an attorney to make his defence, or one should volunteer
for that service, the trial of the accused upon a charge of such
magnitude might develop into a mere pettifogging attempt to clear
him upon some technicality or at most to make a display for the
attorney’s benefit.
The Bar Association of Erie County
had considered this possibility and through its president, Adelbert
Moot, had suggested to Judge Emery that it was of the utmost importance
that the counsel assigned for the defence of Czolgosz, if it should
become his duty to assign such counsel, should be men of such experience
and of such a high sense of their professional obligations, that
the highest traditions of the profession should be upheld and that
the trial should be dignified, just and impartial. It was further
suggested that Hon. Loran L. Lewis and Hon. Robert C. Titus, former
justices of the Supreme Court of the State of New York, be requested
to act. This suggestion was made without consultation with the judges
named. No better names could have been mentioned, as each had been
for many years in active practice, and for many years before their
retirement from the bench, had been judges of the Supreme Court,
the highest trial court in this State, and each had sat as an appellate
[83][84] judge. Each was also in the
full strength of vigorous intellect and knowledge of the law.
When it was apparent to Judge Emery
that the prisoner before him would make no answer and that he had
no counsel, he said to him: “Czolgosz, you have appeared for arraignment
in Court without counsel. The law makes it the duty of the Court
to assign counsel for you. The Bar Association of our county has
considered the matter and has suggested the names of certain men
of high character for such assignment. The Court has seriously considered
the question, and after such consideration has concluded to follow
the suggestions made by the association. The Court, therefore, assigns
the Hon. Loran L. Lewis and the Hon. Robert C. Titus as your counsel.”
The duty of appearing to defend the
slayer of the President was naturally distasteful to the counsel
assigned and they hesitated about accepting the appointment, but
the duty they owed to the law, to the Court and to the accused was
greater, and each of the distinguished counsel accepted the assignment,
and faithfully and earnestly performed such services as the case
required.
The following day Czolgosz was again
brought into the County Court before Judge Emery for arraignment.
Judge Lewis, one of the counsel who had been assigned to defend
him, was there. Czolgosz maintained the same stolid, indifferent
manner which he had borne on the previous day, and refused to answer
the questions that were put to him. The District Attorney said to
him: “Leon Czolgosz, you have been indicted by the grand jury of
this county for murder in the first degree;” and then read the indictment
to him. “How do you plead?” The prisoner made no reply. “Do you
understand what I have read to you?” was asked. “Do you understand
that you are charged with the crime of murder in the first degree?”
“You can say yes or no.” He stood mute.
Judge Lewis then addressing the Court,
said that he had called upon the prisoner and had not been able
to learn any wish upon his part as to the employment of counsel;
that he appeared informally to enter a plea of not guilty for the
defendant, the law requiring that such a plea should be entered
under these circumstances. He reserved the right, however, after
consultation with Judge Titus, who was then out of town, if they
concluded not to make an application for the assignment of other
counsel, to withdraw the plea of not guilty and interpose, if thought
advisable, another plea in the case in the way of a demurrer to
the indictment. Reserving this right, Judge Lewis entered the plea
of not guilty for the defendant. [84][85]
The contrast between this procedure
and that which prevailed under the ancient common law of England
is most marked. Then the prisoner could not employ counsel and none
could be assigned to him. Standing mute, i. e., if when arraigned
for felony, the prisoner made no answer at all, or answered foreign
to the purpose, it was equivalent to a conviction, and he received
the same judgment and execution as if he had been duly tried and
convicted by a jury. (4 Blackstone, p. 325; Stat. 12, Geo. III.
c. 20). Fearful penalties were inflicted upon him who would not
plead his innocence, in the shape of severe bodily punishment, until
he confessed the crime charged, or pleaded not guilty.
The judgment of penance for standing
mute was as follows: “That the prisoner be remanded to the prison
from whence he came, and put into a low dark chamber, and then laid
on the bare floor, naked, unless when decency forbids. That there
be placed upon his body as great a weight of iron as he could bear,
and more; that he have no sustenance save only on the first day,
three morsels of the worst bread; and, on the second day, three
draughts of standing water, that should be nearest to the prison
door; and in this situation this should be alternately his daily
dish, till he died, or (as anciently the judgment ran) till he answered.”
In the present case, as in all such
cases in this era of humane treatment of suspected felons, every
reasonable consideration was shown the prisoner. If he chose to
stand mute and make no plea to the indictment, a plea of not guilty
was entered in his behalf. Having no counsel and no means to employ
them, and apparently wishing none, eminent lawyers were directed
by the Court to defend him,—not gratuitously, but to be paid for
their services out of the public treasury. Expert witnesses for
his defence were subpoenaed and paid in the same way. It is the
policy of the law that if he was innocent of the crime charged,
the killing of the President wilfully, feloniously and from a deliberate
and premeditated design, he should have the fullest opportunity
to prove it to the satisfaction of the jury, and the expense of
maintaining such defence would be borne by the people. Such is the
magnanimity of our present administration of the law against indigent
criminals.
After the entry of a plea of not guilty
by Judge Lewis in behalf of Czolgosz, the District Attorney said
that he intended to move the transmission of the indictment to the
Supreme Court, and to serve notice for the trial at the criminal
term for the following Monday, September 23rd, which was the beginning
of the terms of the various [85][86]
parts of the Supreme Court. To this Judge Lewis said that he knew
of no reason why the defendant would not be ready.
The stolid demeanor of the prisoner
in maintaining silence in court and refusing to answer the questions
put to him,—his refusal to talk to his counsel, Judge Lewis, who
had endeavored in the kindest manner to arouse in him some interest
in his situation, and his refusal to say whether he was guilty or
no, gave rise to the thought that he was possibly of distempered
mind. But there seemed to be some method in his madness, for he
conversed quite freely with the police officers who had him in charge,
and rationally, too, so it was thought that he was shamming in court
and when talked to by his counsel. Some eminent experts in diseases
of the mind had examined him at the request of the District Attorney,
and Judge Lewis asked the Court for an order, in case such a course
was deemed advisable, for his examination by other experts in insanity,
which order was duly allowed,—the District Attorney saying that
he would grant counsel every favor that they desired in that way.
The prisoner was then remanded to jail until Monday, September 23rd,
when his trial would be moved. Other experts in diseases of the
mind examined the prisoner and the unanimous conclusion arrived
at by them after such examination was that he was sane. When arrested
and taken to police headquarters he talked freely and voluntarily
with District Attorney Penney and others, especially with James
L. Quackenbush, a young lawyer of Buffalo, who was a member of the
committee of reception that day, who stood opposite the President,
and was a witness to the shooting. Mr. Quackenbush gave valuable
testimony at the trial. He went with Mr. Penney to police headquarters,
where Czolgosz has been taken, and heard his conversation and talked
quite freely with him. In reply to the District Attorney, Czolgosz
stated that he killed President McKinley because he believed it
was his duty. He did not believe that one man should have so much
service and another man should have none, and all the others regard
it as a privilege to stand by and render services; that he understood
the consequences and was willing to take his chances. He described
in a conversation of about two hours, his early life, where he had
lived, what he had worked at and what he had been doing just prior
to the shooting. He illustrated with a handkerchief how he concealed
the revolver in his hand and fired the shots. He had gone to Niagara
Falls in the morning of that day, intending to kill the President
there, but was not able to get near enough to him; he then returned
to the exposition grounds, [86][87]
intending to get near him there and shoot him. He arranged his revolver,
covering it with his handkerchief in his right hand. He waited in
the line until he was near the President and then fired. He said
if he had not been seized and thrown to the ground he would have
fired other shots. He stated that he had been thinking about killing
the President for several days before that; that he had determined
to kill the President at the first opportunity. He said he did not
believe in governments; that he thought the President was a tyrant
and should be removed; that he had for several years been studying
the doctrines of anarchy; that he believed in no government, no
marriage relation, and that he had been influenced by the teachings
of Emma Goldman. Outside of the court room, or when his counsel
was not present, he would talk in a natural and easy way with the
guards who had him in charge. He made but the slightest reference
to his crime. Once his guard told him that the President was much
better, and to this he replied “I am glad.”
On Monday, September 23rd, Czolgosz
was brought into the criminal part of the Supreme Court which began
its sitting that morning. The indictment had been transferred from
the County Court in which it was found, to the Supreme Court. Some
question was made as to the correctness of this procedure, inasmuch
as the County Court could not try a man accused of a capital offense,
and therefore, a grand jury of that court could not find a true
bill against him. This point was not pressed, and it was conceded
that the grand jury, being a jury of the county, might hear proofs
and find an indictment and that indictment be tried in the Supreme
Court for the county.
At the opening of court, Mr. Justice
Truman C. White, presiding over the criminal term, asked if the
District Attorney had any business for the court. Mr. Penney said
that he desired to arraign the prisoner, Leon F. Czolgosz. He turned
to the prisoner who stood before him, and said, “You are indicted
and charged with having committed the crime of murder in the first
degree. It is alleged that you, on the 6th day of September of this
year, unlawfully shot and killed William McKinley, contrary to law,—how
do you plead?” Czolgosz hesitated a moment and then in a low voice,
scarcely audible, said, “Guilty.” Judge White asked what he had
said. Mr. Penney replied, “He pleads guilty.” “That plea cannot
be accepted in this court,” said Judge White. “The clerk will enter
a plea of not guilty and we will proceed with the trial.” The District
Attorney then stated that the defendant had previously appeared
in the County [87][88] Court and at
that time Judge Emery had assigned as his counsel Judge Loran L.
Lewis, Judge Robert C. Titus and his associate, Mr. Carlton E. Ladd,
to attend to the case and ascertain the rights that this man had,
and to put in such defence as they deemed best, and asked the judge
to confirm that assignment. Judge Titus then said:
“If the Court please, it has been
thought best by my distinguished associate and myself, and my young
friend, that something should be said, not in the way of apology,
but as a reason why we are here in defense of this defendant. At
the time we were assigned I was out of the city, and neither of
my associates was consulted about the assignment. I at first declined
absolutely to take part in the defense of the case, but subsequently,
it was made to appear to Judge Lewis and myself that it was a duty
which we owed alike to our profession, to the public and to the
Court, that we accept this assignment, unpleasant though the task
is for us, and we, therefore, appear in accordance with that assignment
to see that this defendant, if he is guilty, is convicted only by
such evidence as the law of the land requires in a case of this
character, and that in the trial of this case the forms of law shall
be observed in every particular and that no act or no bit of evidence
shall be introduced here upon the trial of this case and accepted
against this defendant unless it is such as would be introduced
and accepted upon the trial of the meanest criminal in the smallest
case.”
Justice White immediately replied
as follows:
“It certainly accords with the views
of this Court that gentlemen like yourselves should have been appointed
by the County Court to defend this prisoner. It gives to the public
and the Court and those engaged in the administration of the law
absolute assurance that the prisoner will receive fair treatment
during the progress of this trial, and that he will meet with such
justice as the law demands in his behalf, as he is assured by the
fundamental law of the land. The plea of guilty, which has been
entertained by the prisoner, indicates, as the Court looks upon
it, that he himself anticipates no escape from the penalty which
the law prescribes. Of course, that plea cannot be accepted, and
the progress of the trial should be the same in my judgment as though
he himself had entered a plea of not guilty. I am sure you gentlemen
will protect him to the same extent that you would if you were retained
for a munificent compensation to do the duty which you are undertaking
to do now. Some question has been raised, and discussed in the public
print, at any rate, as to the jurisdiction of the County Court to
appoint you gentlemen. It is my [88][89]
pleasure not only to confirm, but, if it should be deemed necessary,
appoint and designate you gentlemen to the task which you have set
out to perform.”
In this way the record was made complete,
and the defendant’s rights safe-guarded as if he had himself employed
counsel to defend him. Twelve jurors were then called from the panel
summoned to attend the term. The examination and acceptance of the
jurors in this case is a worthy example to be followed. Too often
many hours and sometimes days are consumed in an effort to secure
jurymen who are unfamiliar with daily events and are generally defective
in understanding, in order that, through their ignorance or stupidity,
a prisoner may find escape from the consequences of his crime.
A jury satisfactory to both sides
was secured in about two hours and a half. Each juror frankly stated
on his examination that he had formed an opinion of the guilt or
innocence of the accused, but that such opinion would yield to evidence
and would not prevent his giving a true verdict upon the evidence
introduced.
After a brief statement of the facts
to be proved to support the indictment, by Assistant District Attorney
Frederick Haller, the examination of witnesses for the people was
begun by Mr. Penney. The order of proof was well arranged and after
showing the locus in quo, the testimony of the medical men
attending the President was given, showing the nature of the wound;
the operation performed; the subsequent treatment of the case and
the death of the President as the result of the pistol shot. The
cross-examination of the witnesses for the people by defendant’s
counsel was sharp and searching. It was in no sense perfunctory.
Counsel endeavored to elicit all the facts in relation to the condition
of the President’s wound and its treatment. Much of the testimony
was technical and abstruse; but, when put into plain English, pointed
to but one conclusion,—that the President died from the effects
of the pistol wound inflicted by the defendant. Other witnesses
were sworn who saw Czolgosz fire the pistol that inflicted the fatal
wound; others testified to his admissions, made voluntary and not
under compulsion, threats or inducements, that it was he who shot
the President; that he did it intentionally and had contemplated
the deed for some time previous. Thus the case of the people was
complete and the prosecution rested. The case was then in the hands
of the counsel for the defense. Judge Lewis first asked Czolgosz
if he would take the stand, but he refused, and he then stated to
the court that the defendant had no witnesses that he would call,
so that the testimony was closed at the close of the people’s case.
[89][90]
Judge Lewis then addressed the jury.
It was the first time in twenty years that the venerable judge had
stood in the place of an advocate addressing a jury. His snow white
hair, erect figure and calm, deliberate manner were most impressive.
Everyone knew that the duty devolved upon him was most distasteful,
yet he performed that duty most nobly and well. He spoke touchingly
of the great calamity which had befallen the country, at the hands
of his client. His eulogy of President McKinley was most fittingly
spoken and in perfect harmony with his argument in favor of the
acquittal of his assassin. There was no doubt, he admitted, of the
killing of the President by Czolgosz. The question and only question
to be discussed was whether the act of shooting was that of a sane
man. If it was, then the defendant was guilty of murder and must
suffer the penalty of the law. If he was insane then he should be
acquitted of the charge of murder and confined in a lunatic asylum.
He submitted the question of the defendant’s sanity to the jury
in these words:
“The law presumes that this man is
innocent of the crime, and we start, in investigating this case,
with the assumption that for some reason or other he is not responsible
for the act which he performed on that day. That is one of the merciful
provisions of the law of this civilized State, and it is a provision
of law which you must consider and which you must permit to influence
your minds until you are satisfied by the evidence in the case that
that doubt has been removed.
“Now, gentlemen, we have not been
able to present any evidence upon our part. The defendant has even
refused on almost every occasion to even talk with his counsel;
he has not aided us; so that we have come here, under, as I said
to you, the designation of the Court, to do what we can to determine
this important question which is to be submitted to you.
“All that I can say, to aid you, is
that every human being—yes, nearly, certainly every human being—has
a strong desire to live. Death is a spectre that we all dislike
to meet, and here is this defendant, without having any animosity
against our President, without any motive, so far as we can see—personal
motive—we find him going into this building, in the presence of
these hundreds of people, and committing an act which, if he was
sane, must cause his death.
“Now, could a man with a sane mind
perform such an act? Of course, the rabble in the street would say,
no matter whether he is insane or sane, he deserves to be killed
at once; but the law says, no; [90][91]
the law says, consider all the circumstances and see whether the
man was in his right mind or not. But one may say, ‘Why, it is better
that he should be convicted, as a terror to others.’ That may be
so in some regard, but, gentlemen of the jury, if it could be, if
it can be, that you find this defendant was not responsible for
the crime, for this act, you would aid in uplifting a great cloud
off from the hearts and minds of the people of this country and
of the world. If our beloved President had met with a railroad accident
coming here to our city and had been killed, we should all regret
very much, we should mourn over the loss of such a just man, but
our grief would not begin to compare with the grief that we have
now, that he should be stricken down by an assassin, if such were
the case. That adds poignancy to our grief—it does in my case, to
a very large extent. But if you could find that he met his fate
by the act of an insane man, it would amount to the same as though
he met it accidentally, by some accident, and passed away under
such circumstances.”
The point was most happily taken that
if the assassination was by the hand of an irresponsible man it
would afford great relief to the country and the world to know that
it was not the result of a conspiracy of evil disposed men, without
respect for law or life or station, who in the future might, in
their contempt for law, repeat the crime of September 6th, upon
the life of the next President or some other ruler of a nation.
Judge Titus simply said that Judge
Lewis had so completely covered the ground and had so fully anticipated
his own thought that he would not attempt to add anything further.
District Attorney Penney then briefly
addressed the jury in behalf of the people. His argument was simple
and to the point. It was that, the shooting being conceded, and
no proof of insanity having been given, the law would presume the
prisoner to be sane unless evidence was given of his insanity,—so
that there was but one verdict possible.
Judge White then gave his charge to
the jury, with eminent fairness and a perceptible effort to allow
no sensationalism, no consideration of the high character of the
victim of the murderous attack, to affect the minds of the jury
in their consideration of the case.
The jury retired at ten minutes before
four o’clock in the afternoon and returned to the court room to
render their verdict at twenty-four minutes after four.
While no one doubted that the jury
could come to but one conclusion and that conclusion a verdict of
guilty of murder in the first de- [91][92]
gree, yet the most intense, though suppressed, excitement pervaded
the entire audience. The few minutes that the jury were out seemed
to be hours to many who were waiting for the verdict. At last the
jury were announced and they filed into the court room, and the
foreman delivered its verdict: “Guilty of murder in the first degree
as charged in the indictment.”
The Court announced that the time
of sentence would be fixed for the following Thursday at two o’clock
in the afternoon.
The announcement of the verdict of
the jury seemed to have but little effect upon Czolgosz’ demeanor.
He was as stolid and as impassive as ever. The verdict which thrilled
all others seemed to produce no sensation in him, to whom it meant
death. It has been said that one of the principles of Anarchists
is to feel nothing if defeated in their plans: if death is their
fate, to bear it like stoics; to say nothing when called upon to
plead in court, thus showing their contempt for law; but when brought
before the court for the sentence of death, then to speak from their
hearts in defense of anarchy and in condemnation of government,
law, order, religion, domestic ties and all that good citizens hold
dear and sacred as the foundations of civil and domestic happiness.
But Czolgosz did not speak. It was thought on one or two occasions
that he would deliver himself of some speech, but he always failed.
In fact he could not: he was incapable of any great thought: he
possessed enough spite against those above him to do them injury,
but, as his words to his guards showed, his ideas were of the narrowest
range.
The world may well dismiss Czolgosz
as in no sense the exponent of, but rather a sporadic product of
Socialism and Anarchy, and simply regard him as a soft creature,
not deranged, but acting under an evil impulse, fully conscious
of what he was doing and what the consequences would be.
After the verdict was rendered, the
prisoner was removed to prison to await his sentence. All that his
able counsel could honorably do in his defense had been done. True,
they might have delayed the trial for some months, on the plea that
having just come into the case they required more time, and until
the next term of Court, to prepare their defense. At the next term
it would not be out of the usual order for a further continuance
to be granted, putting the case over another term, and, upon one
pretext or another, the trial of the case could be postponed for
one or two years, and in case of an appeal to the Appellate Division,
and from there to the Court of Appeals, three years might easily
elapse before the final [92][93] trial,
or disposition of the case. In that interval who can tell what might
not happen to render the conviction of the prisoner impossible or
of no salutary effect?
It is unquestionable that the speedy
trial, conviction and execution of Czolgosz for the crime charged
against him, will have a more potent effect and a more deterrent
influence upon others of his class,—Anarchists, Socialists,—what
you will, than whole libraries of theory for the suppression of
Anarchy and Socialism. It is universally considered that the whole
proceedings from the arrest of Czolgosz to his execution were conducted
with the utmost dignity, order and decency. There was ample time
to prepare for the trial on both sides, and yet but ten days elapsed
between the death of the President at the hands of Czolgosz, and
his conviction after two days’ trial,—a record most unusual and
remarkable, and reflecting great credit upon the Court, the District
Attorney and the prisoner’s counsel. On Thursday, September 26th,
the condemned man was brought before Judge White to receive his
final sentence. He placed his hand upon the Bible and was sworn
to make true answers to such questions as should be put to him.
He stated that he was born at Detroit, Michigan, twenty-eight years
ago, and had attended small common schools, the Catholic Church
school some; that he used to go to the Catholic Church. When asked
by the clerk if he had any legal cause to show why sentence of the
Court should not now be pronounced, he said he did not understand.
District Attorney Penney then repeated the question to him, and
he faintly muttered, “Yes.” Judge White explained to him that what
he had a right to say related explicitly to the subject in hand
here at this time, and the legal causes which the law provides he
might claim in exempting himself from having judgment pronounced
at this time, were defined by statute. These were that he was insane;
that he had good cause to offer either in arrest of the judgment
about to be pronounced, or for a new trial. To this Czolgosz answered:
“I have nothing to say about that.” “Nothing to say?” asked Judge
White. Then his counsel, Judge Titus, asked him what he wanted to
say. In a low tone he said: “My family, they had nothing to do with
it. I was alone and had no one else. No one else but me.” He spoke
in a mumbling way, quite indistinct. His words were repeated to
the Court by both Mr. Penney and Judge Titus. The Court asked Judge
Titus if he had anything to say in behalf of the defendant at this
time, to which he replied: “I have nothing to say within the definition
your honor has read, as to what [93][94]
we can say, but it seemed to me that in order that innocent people
should not suffer by this defendant’s crime, the Court should allow
him to exculpate at least his father, brother and sisters.”
“Certainly, if that is the object
of any statement that he will make,” said Judge White.
“That is what he tells us,” said his
counsel.
Again Judge White directed Czolgosz
to proceed with his statement. He said: “I would like to say this
much, that the crime was committed by no one else but me. No one
told me to do it and I never told anybody to do it.” “Your father
and mother had nothing to do with it?” asked Judge Titus. “No, sir.
Not only my father and mother, but there hasn’t anybody else had
nothing to do with this. * * * They didn’t
know anything about it. I never told anything to nobody; I never
thought of that until a couple of days before I committed the crime.”
This was all the statement that Czolgosz made in court, which was
literally wrung from him by the questions of Court, counsel and
prosecuting officer.
Judge White then imposed the sentence
of the Court upon Czolgosz: “That, in the week beginning on October
28th, 1901, at the place, in the manner and by the means prescribed
by law, you suffer the punishment of death.” How that punishment
is inflicted, has already been shown.
This was the end of the trial of Leon
F. Czolgosz, for the assassination of the President of the United
States. The prisoner’s counsel realized that the trial had been
fair, impartial and without reversible error. They made no motion
for a new trial or in arrest of judgment. None of the legal devices
for putting off the day of execution were resorted to, for, as good
lawyers, they knew there was no proper ground for it, and as men
of large common sense, they would not resort to a hopeless attempt,
solely for the purpose of delay.
The prisoner was soon removed to Auburn
State Prison, where, on the morning of October 28th, 1901, he was
placed in the electric chair, and died the death to which his wicked,
wanton act condemned him.
——————————
N. The bills
of expense incurred by Erie County, in the trial and conviction
of Czolgosz, were but $1799.50. The attorneys for the defence were
paid $350.00 each; the alienists who examined the prisoner received
$1,000.00, as follows: Dr. Carlos F. McDonald, $300.00; Dr. Allen
McLane Hamilton, $100.00; Dr. Joseph Fowler, $200.00; Dr. Floyd
S. Crego, $200.00; Dr. James W. Putnam, $200.00. The other expenses
were for guarding and transporting the prisoner to Auburn State
Prison for execution, and some incidentals.
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