Publication information |
Source: Yale Law Journal Source type: journal Document type: article Document title: “The Trial of the Anarchist Murderer Czolgosz” Author(s): Parker, LeRoy Date of publication: December 1901 Volume number: 11 Issue number: 2 Pagination: 80-94 |
Citation |
Parker, LeRoy. “The Trial of the Anarchist Murderer Czolgosz.” Yale Law Journal Dec. 1901 v11n2: pp. 80-94. |
Transcription |
full text |
Keywords |
Leon Czolgosz; Leon Czolgosz (arraignment); Leon Czolgosz (trial); Leon Czolgosz (trial: expenses); Leon Czolgosz (legal defense); Leon Czolgosz (prosecution); Leon Czolgosz (sentencing). |
Named persons |
Floyd S. Crego; Leon Czolgosz; Edward K. Emery; Joseph Fowler; Emma Goldman; Frederick Haller; Allan McLane Hamilton [first name misspelled below]; Carlton E. Ladd; Loran L. Lewis; Carlos F. MacDonald [misspelled below]; William McKinley; John G. Milburn; Adelbert Moot; Thomas Penney; James W. Putnam; James L. Quackenbush; Theodore Roosevelt; Robert C. Titus; Truman C. White. |
Document |
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.
——————————
NOTE. 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.