THE NEW YORK TOMBS. SUTTON. Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library Gift of Seymour B. Durst Old York Library lEx IGtbrts SEYMOUR DURST When you leave, please leave this book Because it has been said "Ever'thing comes V him who waits Except a loaned book." Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2013 http://archive.org/details/newyorktombsitssOOsutt the Xew York ¥ombs; ITS SECRETS AND ITS MYSTERIES. BEING A History of Noted Criminals, with Narratives of their Crimes, AS GATHERED BY CHAELES SUTTON, WARDEN OF THE PRISON. EDITED BY JAMES B. MIX AND SAMUEL A. MACKEEVER. " Those Dreadful walls of Newgate"— -Dickens. SPLENDIDLY ILLUSTRATED FROM ORIGINAL DESIGNS. SOLD ONLY BY SUBSCRIPTION. UNITED STATES PUBLISHING COMPANY, 11 & 13 University Place. ClAjJICS CONTENTS. CHAPTEE L PAGE INTRODUCTORY 17 CHAPTEE II. Prisons of New York.— Stadt Huys.— Old City Hall.— New Jail.— Bride- well. — Bellevue Penitentiary. — State Prison at Greenwich. — Ludlow Street Jail. — House of Refuge 20 CHAPTEE III. Modes of Punishment. — The Whipping Post. — The Pillory. — The Ducking Stool.— The Stocks.— The Wooden Horse.— The Treadmill 35 CHAPTEE IV. The Tombs. — The Collect. — Incidents in its early History. — Progress of Im- provements. — Erection of the Tombs 44 CHAPTEE V. A Treatise on Gambling. — An Essay by a Convict. — The Strange and Re- markable Career of Mulligan. — Shot down in San Francisco. — The Desperate Fight preceding his Death. — The Beau Brummel of the Gamblers at that time 53 CHAPTEE VI. Colt's Case. — The Murder of Samuel Adams. — The Death Grapple in Colt's Office. — Shipping the Body to New Orleans.— Detection. — Arrest. — The Tombs.— The Wedding in the Cell.— Suicide of Colt 64 viii CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. PAGE The Driftwood in the Current of Metropolitan Life. — Vagrants — Bummers- Drunkards — Revolvers — Misers 81 CHAPTER VIII. Humorous and Pathetic Incidents. — Benevolence of the late Simeon Draper. — A Practical Joke. — What Happened in an Omnibus. — How a State Room was Secured 88 CHAPTER IX. Murderers' Row. — Assassins of the Period. — How they Live in the New York Tombs. — Murder at a Premium. — Flowers, Canary Birds and Kid- derminster Carpets. — Gentlemen of Elegant Leisure. — Rose-Colored Life in the Prison Cell 93 CHAPTER X. Helen Jewett, the Queen of the Demi-monde. — Her Early Life. — Correspond- ence. — Acquaintance with Prominent Statesmen, Artists and Actors of the Day. — Her Youthful Lover, Richard P. Robinson. — Her Murder. — Attempt to Burn the Body. — James Gordon Bennett's Description of the Charred Corpse, as viewed the next Morning. — Excitement at the Trial. — Eloquence of Robinson's Counsel, Hon. Ogden Hoffman. — Murder of a Witness. — Bribery of a Juror. — Perjury of a Witness. — Acquittal of Robinson — Flight to Texas. — A Strange Sequel 97 CHAPTER XL The Stanwix Hall Tragedy. — Native American Party. — Tom Hyer. — Bill Poole. — John Morrissey. — Lewis Baker. — Paudeen. — Assassination of Poole. — Fate of his Assailants. — Letter of John Morrissey on Retiring from the Prize Ring 137 CHAPTER XII. Executions in the City and County of New York 148 CHAPTER XIII. The Bond Street Tragedy.— The Murder of Dr. Harvey Burdell.— Stabbed to Death in his own Office.— Who did it? Was it a Left-Handed Woman? Arrest and Trial of Mrs. Cunningham. — Not Guilty. — That Wonderful Baby 156 CONTENTS. ix CHAPTER XIV. PAGE The Story of the Frenchman who did not witness the Execution, and how it happened 168 CHAPTER XV. John Mahony, the American Jack Sheppard. — An accounir of his Adventur- ous Life, written by Himself. — His Career of Crime, and his Remark- able Escapes 170 CHAPTER XVI. Murder most Foul. — Entrance to the Chamber of Horrors. — Hicks the Pirate. — His Bloody Deeds on board an Oyster Sloop. — Execution on Bedloe's Island. 209 CHAPTER XYII. Charles Walters Murders his Faithless Wife, while mad with Rum.— The Death Sentence. — Efforts of Judge Stewart. — Commutation of Sen- tence to Imprisonment for Life 216 CHAPTER XVIII. Wife Murder by Arsenic. — The Case of John Stephens. — Persecution of his Wife's Niece. — Her Brother Attempts to shoot Him. — The Finger of Suspicion. — Exhuming the Body. — Traces of Arsenic Found. — The Trial, the Cell and the Rope 222 CHAPTER XIX. Murder of a Mistress. — Shocking Tragedy on the Steps of the Brandreth House. — Robert C. Macdonald shoots the beautiful Virginia Stewart. — Rum, Rage and Jealousy 232 CHAPTER XX. Confidence Men. — Romantic Adventures of Eugene Mickiweez, the Russian Count. — The Diamond Ring. — Colonel Marmaduke Reeves. — How he cut off a Cossack's Head. — His Erratic Career 236 CHAPTER XXI. Burglary. — A Mercantile Transaction. — Chauncey Johnson 251 X CONTEXTS. CHAPTEE XXII. PAGE Counterfeiting. — Forgery. — Spencer Pettis. — Monroe Edwards. — Canter. — Redman.— The Webb-Marshall Duel 258 CHAPTEE XXIII. The Haunted Cell 273 CHAPTEE XX1Y. Burdett the Lunatic. — An Incident of Bummer's Hall 280 CHAPTEE XXY. Piracy and Privateering. — Baker and his Confederate Crew. — Babe the Pirate. — The Doomed Unknown. — Anecdote of the Elder Booth. — What Mrs. Ann S. Stephens did. 285 CHAPTEE XXYI. Escapes from the Tombs 289 CHAPTEE XXVIL Captain Gordon, the Slave-Trader. — His Crime, his Trial and his Execu- tion. — The Attempt at Suicide 295 CHAPTEE XXYIII. " Hanging is Played Out."— The Case of Jack Reynolds. — A Bloody Murder on a quiet Sunday Eve. — William Townsend Stabbed to the Heart.— The Angry Mob.— His Execution 303 CHAPTEE XXIX. Ten Days in the Tombs. — A Bona Fide Personal Sketch. — A View from the Inside. — How the Ten-Day Folks are Treated. — The Maniac. — Poor Kate Golden.— The "Black Maria."— Off for the Island 328 CHAPTEE XXX. The Astor Place Riot. — Edwin Forrest. — Charlotte Cushman. — Macready, the English Tragedian. — Chevalier Wikoff . — ' ' Workingmen, Shall Americans or English Rule in this City." — The Riot and its Instigators. —Arrest of E. Z. C. Judson, "Ned Buntline."— His Indictment, Trial, Conviction and Sentence : 348 CONTENTS. xi CHAPTER XXXI. PAGE Abortionists. — Madam Restell. — Her Crimes, Arrest, Trial, Conviction, Im- prisonment in the Tombs, and on Blackwell's Island. — Her Fifth Avenue Palace. — Rosenzweig. — The Trunk Horror. — Alice Bowlsby's Melancholy Fate. — Quack Doctors and Doctresses. — Their Patrons and Patients. — Escape of Rosenzweig 359 CHAPTER ^XXII. Murder in the Tribune Office. — The Richardson-McFarland Tragedy. — Abby Sage Richardson's Sad History. — The Wedding at the Astor House. — Henry Ward Beecher. — Marriage Ceremony. — " So Long as You Two Both do Live." — Death as a Divorce Lawyer. — Trial of Mc- Farland.— Not Guilty 375 CHAPTER XXXIII. The Case of Charles Jeffards.— He Kills His Step-father.— How the Crime was Traced to Him. — His Death in Prison. — Henry Carnell. — He Murders his Landlord. — The Unlucky Jump into the Area. — Four Years in the Tombs 449 CHAPTER XXXIV. Murders in Hot Blood. — The Car-hook Murder. — Foster's Crime, Trial and Fate. — Efforts to Secure Executive Clemency. — Is a Man Crazed with Rum Responsible for His Acts ? — Felix Sanchez Stabs His Father-in- Law. — Murdered with a Bayonet. — Stabbed to Death with a Sword - Cane 457 CHAPTER XXXV. River Thieves. — The Birds of Prey who Prowl Nightly along the River Front of New York. — How they Operate. — The Shadowy Skiff Propelled by Muffled Oars. — The Dark-lantern of the River Police. — Revolver Prac- tice, " My God ! I'm Shot."— The Howlett and Saul Case.— The Double Execution. — Haunts and Habits of the River-Gang. — Their Deeds. — Tragic End of ik Socco the Bracer." 467 CHAPTER XXXYI. Sharkey's Crime, Trial, and Escape. — " Stone- Walls do not a Prison Make, nor Iron Bars a Cage." — The Love of Maggie Jourdan. — That Famous Red Ticket. — The Veiled Lady who Passed out of the Gate.— Maggie's Trial and Devotion 482 xii CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXXVII. PAGE The Parricide. — Young Walworth Shoots his Father at the Sturtevant House. — Trial — Efforts to Save. — Charles O'Conor as Counsel. — State prison for Life. — A Mother's Devotion 499 CHAPTER XXXVIII. The Adventurous Career of Mrs. Victoria C. Woodhull and Miss Tennie C. Claflin. — How they did the Clairvoyant Dodge in the West. — t; Eastward the Star of Woodhull takes its Way." — Their Appearance in New York. — The Office on Eroad Street and the Up-Town Residence. — Establish- ment of "Woodhull and Claflin's Weekly." — Free Love. — Gathering of the Storm. — Vicky's Lightning Flashes. — The Great Beecher Scandal. — "In the Tombs."— Geo. Francis Train.— Ludlow Street Jail 506 CHAPTER XXXIX. Mansfield, the Modern Cleopatra. — Her Life with the Prince of Erie. — Stokes on the Scene. — Speculation, Sin and Law. —Scene at the Grand Central Hotel. — Tragedy on the Stair-Case. — "There's a Man Shot at the Ladies' Entrance." — The Funeral. — Trial. — Conviction. — Death-Sen- tence. — New Trial. — Luxury in the Tombs. — Sing Sing. — Stokes' State- ment 520 CHAPTER XL. The State Prison at Sing Sing. — Its Origin, Capacity, Discipline, Etc, Etc. 5S3 CHAPTER XLI. Blackwell's Island as seen by a Lady, H. B , 610 CHAPTER XLII. The New York Ring. — Its Extent, Influences, and Purposes. — The Great Ring Magnate, William Marcy Tweed. — His Confederates. — Buying the Legislature. — Ruling New York. — The Millions Stolen from the City Treasury, — Trials, Convictions, Sentences, Escapes 629 APPENDIX. Statement of Edward S. Stokes 649 Prison Management and Reformation. — Hubbell 657 Prison Sunshine 663 ONE WORD AFTER YOU SEE THE TITLE. IF the reader takes up this book with the idea that we have unrolled a record of violence, crime and blood, to gratify a depraved taste for the horrible ; or because we are fond of writing about such scenes ; or exult in the barbarism of strangling human beings to death on the gallows, he will make one of the biggest blunders of his life. We abhor crime, and therefore we write its history in true colors, that we may deter our fellow-men from its perpetration — just as buoys are set over sunken rocks to keep other ships from going down — just as the reformed drunkard from the platform, curdles the blood of his hearers by painting the hell that burned in his own wretched soul, and the heart-broken sufferings he brought to his once happy fireside. His pictures of the degra- dation and foul beastliness which drink brings a man to are not likely to throw any enchantment around deli- rium tremens. If we trace the road to murder, by drops of blood left in the slayer's track, are we planting flowers in the path of the young ? If we report criminal trials, and show by what artifices advocates invoke the most subtle and despe- rate agencies to save deep-dyed villains from punishment ; and how fearlessness in the prosecution, and uprightness on the bench and in the jury, strip off all disguises and drag the wrong-doer to his merited doom, — no matter how high, how rich, how popular, or how powerful the felon may be, — are we presenting any allurements to the young to take the downward road ? Above all, if by depicting the barbarism of legal mur- 14 ONE WORD AFTER YOU SEE THE TITLE. der — the brutalizing effect of making a community fami- liar with the shedding of human blood by judicial execu- tions — if we show that blood-shedding is no antidote to blood-shedding — that because some besotted wretch, more likely than not crazed by rum, has committed one mur- der, therefore another must be committed — if we show how civilized men have at last become so sick of hanging their brother man that it takes four hundred citizens to strain out a jury, and even then, if there be no choice be- tween hanging and not punishing at all, will generally bring in a verdict of not guilty ; or disagree, and leave the same farce to be played over again, till it often takes two years, and one or two hundred thousand dollars of the tax-payers' money not to hang one poor wretch in cold blood, while scores of murderers walk with impunity the streets of every city in the land — if by exposing these fearful evils, the reader, be he young or old, does not rise from reading this book with the feeling that we have tried to do the cause of virtue and humanity some service, then we have indeed written in vain. Make your laws so justly proportioned to crime, that every good citizen will aid in their inflexible execution. In this way alone will crime ever be abated. In this Book we do not attempt to give a full record of the history of crime in New York, since our space will not admit of a hundredth of the cases. But we choose from the most prominent and striking. Nor do we find it advisable to adhere in every instance to chronological order. We have drawn our information from various sources, and during the progress of the work have kept open our chapters for suggestions from our numerous advisers, and this has necessarily disarranged the order. The facts we claim to give. — The Editors. CHAPTEE IV. THE TOMBS. — THE COLLECT. — INCIDENTS IN ITS EARLY HISTORY. — PROGRESS OF IMPROVEMENTS. — ERECTION OF THE TOMBS. " Elsewhere people are restless, worried, hurried about, anxious respecting one thing, anxious respecting another. Nothing of this kind here, sir. We have done all that ; we know the worst of it : we have got to the bottom , we can't fall : and what have we found Peace. That's the word for it — Peace." — Dickens, in Little Dorritt. "FT scarcely seems credible to the present generation, unfamiliar with the original topography of " Beautiful Manahatta," that there was once a lovely and picturesque lake, bounded by Canal street on the north, Pearl street on the south, Mulberry street on the east, and Centre street on the west ; and yet such was the case. This lake was surrounded by romantic hills, which, on the west, in the vicinity of Broadway, rose to a considerable height. Its waters were pure and fresh, and its depth, once thought to be unfathom- able, was ultimately ascertained to be about fifty feet. It had a navigable outlet into the North river, and abounded in a variety of fish. The Indians made it their favorite resort, and built their vil- lages on its shores. Long before the white man placed his foot upon the island the savage here cultivated his rude arts, built his simple wigwams in clusters around the quiet water, clove its calm surface with his bark canoe, and drew from its crystal depths the struggling fish. What scenes of rude and barbarous sport, of joy and sorrow, of crime, cruelty and war, were here enacted long before the days of Hudson ! In the early history of the island this collection of water was called by the English "Fresh Water," and "Fresh Water Pond." The Dutch called it " Kalchhook," or "Shell Point," from a large deposit of decomposed shells, which formed a point on the western shore. This name was afterwards abbreviated into " Kalch," "Callech," "Colleck," "Collect." " The " Collect Pond " occupied almost the entire space which is bounded on the north by White street, and on the south by 94 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. Victor Hugo, in his " Last days of a Condemned Man," paints this picture superbly. The very thoughts of the miserable wretch are reproduced in his glowing language. We shrink with horror from the contemplation of the scene, and wonder, since such is the fate, how any man can commit murder. They may do those things better in France, but how is it in New York ? Let us take a stroll through Murderers' Eow in the Tombs. Coming in from the pure air and warm sunshine you say, as you THE POPULAR IDEA. step upon the corridor, " Surely this is dismal enough I" And so it is ; but this is only the exterior of the parlors. As the keeper swings open the door of the first cell we come to the odor of sweet spring flowers strikes you. It is no delusion, for there they are in a delicate vase upon the centre table. That handsomely dressed lady, with the golden hair, whom we passed on the stairs, has just left them. To-morrow they will be replaced by fresh ones. The table itself is a pretty one — there is nothing handsomer on Fifth avenue. It is of exquisite workmanship, and is covered with a dainty cloth. In a gilt cage, hanging against the wall, is a canary, whose dulcet strain gushes out from his palpita- 106 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. and, after the first season of your fancy, your fondness would give place to mistrust, and I would be suspected at a greater disadvan- tage than the numerous unblemished women who, notwithstanding the blamelessness of their early lives, are rendered miserable by the unfounded jealousy of their husbands every day, Give me leave to speak, sir, on this subject as if I knew something of it Woman is the bauble of man's passions — always so when he has no deep respect for her purity of character or sentiment. You would be troubled with many unpleasant reflections, after the first season of your liking was over, and the check which you would continually find me to your intercourse with society would first manufacture regrets and then turn them into hate. Knowing this from the experience which I have personally had of the evanescent ardor of mere passion, it would be unjust in me not to undeceive you, or not to reject a bond of ultimate misery for both. There are other reasons, less magnanimous than those which I have stated, that induce me to respectfully refer your offer back to your reflec- tions, but of these I need not speak. I find no fault with you for your frank estimation of the present degradation I am living under, but I am in a whirlpool from which I cannot rise by means of your proffer, and all I can do is to trim my bark to sail as decently as possible till I am eventually swallowed in its vortex. For the compliments which you pay my qualities of heart and mind I feel grateful, of course ; but I commend you, if you are sincere, to think as little of them as possible hereafter. What destiny I am reserved for I do not know, but I do know that I cannot eke it out in the current you propose. If, therefore, you see me again — for I have no doubt that you have been acquainted with me more intimately than you pretend — maintain your incog- nito, and do not encourage yourself that an appeal in person, under any circumstances, will alter the resolution which I have here set down. That you may not hope that this determination was founded in caprice, I repeat there are circumstances of a private and selfish nature, which, apart from any conclusion of philosophy, would oblige me to decide definitely against you. Yours with respect, H. J. To Keitben Jarvis, New York Post-office." THE MARRIAGE AND DEATH. 379 The Hon. Horace Greeley and several of Mrs. McFarland's lady friends and advisers were also witnesses to the strange and solemn ceremony. On the night of the 2d of December, 1869, the witness — Death — claimed his own. There were present Colonel T. H. Knox, Mr. Junius Henri Browne, Mrs. Sage (mother of the bride), Dr. Car- ter, and Dr. Swan. Such is a plain matter-of-fact narrative of the shooting, the ar- rest, the marriage, and the death. What led to this tragedy can- not be told in a few words, but can be gathered from the facts brought out on the trial, which was certainly one of the most re- markable that ever took place in this country. We shall give a full and interesting synopsis further on. But as a simple act of justice, prompted by a chivalric spirit which dictates that a lady should be heard first in any case that concerns her honor, we pro- duce here the sworn statement of Mrs. Abby Sage Richardson. Let it be read carefully, for it is the cry from the heart of a woman who was either one of the most erring of her sex, or the most unjustly injured : — MRS. RICHARDSON'S STATEMENT. I feel that I cannot break the silence which heretofore I have rig-idly main- tained without saying a word as to the cause which leads me to make a public statement. I fully believe that any one of any degree of pride or delicacy will bear reproach and contumely, and even the vilest slanders, in silence, rather than drag out to public comment the most sacred details of his inner life, and that only the meanest soul will babble of that which concerns itself most deeply. But during the last six months, and not a little during the last three years, I have been exposed to such a storm of public opinion, that all others I ever knew sink into insignificance beside it. And now, after I have waited in patience the verdict of newspapers, of the public, and of a New York court and jury, I have decided that I will speak the first and last word I shall ever speak for myself. Not for any attempt at my own vindication do I write this explanation. But for the sake of the noble men and women who have stood by me through all re- vilings, often without any explanation from me, and always in the full faith that I was most cruelly wronged ; for their sakes, and for his who lost his life in my behalf, I wish to tell the whole story of my life. When I was once advised to do so and hesitated, a good woman said to me, ' ' Do not be afraid to tell your story once to all the world. Tell it once exactly as you would tell it to your Maker, and then keep silence forever after." And this is what I mean to do ; to write as exactly as I can the whole and sim- ple truth to the minutest details, reserving nothing and extenuating notMng. In 630 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. Tweed, who was known throughout the city as the " Boss." His magnetic influence was felt in every ward in the city. Each ward had as many organizations as there were election districts, and his retainers or henchmen who presided over them came daily in contact with their chieftain. Never was a party more thoroughly organized, and what wonder is it that such an army should make a city captive ! It might be said that William M. WM. M. TWEED. Tweed sprang to the helm of the New York Democracy. True, he had been chosen to several high offices from his own district, but his influence did not extend beyond the section in which he had lived from boyhood. He was born on the East Side in the year 1823, of poor parents, and early thrown on his own resources. He learned the trade of a chairmaker and worked at it for many years^ He soon became ambitious of political distinction, and to increase his qualifications and improve his chances he entered the 656 APPENDIX. for three consecutive trials — I was for days a witness upon the stand — I left it without a single aspersion being made derog- atory to me, and I am proud of it. It speaks louder than any- thing I can say in my vindication, and brands the slanders that have been so persistently printed about me. After all, my case is determined by the public upon the same identical theory. Those that believe the evidence of the hall boys, believe I am guilty of murder ; and those that believe their story wickedly manufactured, believe I am innocent — that's all there is to it. The theory is correct ; I admit, if one-tenth part of what Hart testified be true, a more cold-blooded assassination never was committed, and that any jury believing their evidence and failing to convict of murder in the first degree, were recreant to their oaths. But the jury believed those boys perjured ; why are they not tried for the perjury the jury say they have committed \ The evidence against them is overwhelming, their guilt is as clear as the noonday sun. I only ask, let them be tried, and upon the re- sult of their trial let the public determine my guilt or innocence. Erie Ring lawyers and Tammany Ring judges came near de- stroying me. It was their intention at the outset to make short and quick work, but the tactics of my counsel in a measure pre- vented it. But the glorious music of reform drove them from power and prevented the forcing on my^ trial. It is my decided opinion, that my first counsel made a sad mis- take in not allowing at once a public statement of my encounter with Fisk. The public knew nothing concerning it — heard noth- ing — except the manufactured story of Thomas Hart and his ac- complices, and my silence was regarded as conclusive evidence of guilt, and the general impression was that there could be only one defence, and that insanity. I was so prejudiced thereby at the time of my trial, that such a thing as a fair trial was impossi- ble. All my witnesses were looked upon with disfavor and dis- trust. I should perhaps state that Mr. William O. Bartlett, one of my counsel, favored a public statement, but was overruled. In conclusion, I can only state, on my honor as a man, that Fisk brought about the conflict ; otherwise I should have passed him quietly by, on the stairs. Edward S. Stokes. Sing Sing, Feb. 24, 1874. / HALLS OF JUSTICE. 49 quently a commission was appointed to take the charge of the public institutions of the city, the " Tombs " and House of Correc- tion coming under the supervision of this commission. In 1845 a change was again made, whereby the Tombs was placed under the control of one commissioner, and Mr. James H. Cook was appoint- ed. He served for one year, and was succeeded by Moses G. Leonard, who continued in office until 1849. The Legislature of that year passed a law placing the Tombs and the other public in- stitutions under the charge of a body of ten, who were known as THE TOMBS. the Board of the Ten Governors of the Almshouse — five being appointed from each of the two political parties, Whig and Demo- cratic. The Board of Ten Governors was, in its turn, supple- mented by the Commissioners of Public Charities and Corrections, appointed by the Comptroller of the city to serve for five years. This system continued in force until 1870, when the new Charter vested the appointment in the Mayor, and added one to the num- ber of the commissioners, which had previously been four. The officers attached to the Tombs are a Warden, two Deputy 4 50 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. Wardens, a Physician, a Eecord Clerk, a Steward, eleven Keepers, a Matron and two Deputy Matrons. The capacity of the Prison is for about 200 prisoners, allowing one to each cell, but as it frequently happens that there are more prisoners than cells — there having been as many as 500 prisoners at one time during 1870 — it is found necessary sometimes to keep two and even three THE YARD OF THE TOMBS. in a cell. The Prison for males is wholly separated from that for females, and contains about 150 cells, ranged in four tiers. In a portion of the cells on the lower floor, or ground tier, are placed the convicts, i e., those under sentence. To the second tier are consigned such prisoners as are brought in charged with serious offences, such as murder, arson, etc. To the third tier prisoners brought in for grand larceny and burglary are sent. The cells on bummers' hael. 51 the upper tier are reserved for those charged with minor offences, such as petit larceny and the like. The lower tier cells are the largest, those on the upper tier the smallest All are of the same width, but, owing to the manner in which the corridors are con- structed, the cells on each tier are about two feet less in depth than those immediately underneath. The lower cells are quite commo- ious, but in the upper ones there is no room to spare. On Franklin street there is a stone building, which was formerly used as a station for the police of the district. It has since been altered, the cells and offices being taken out, and the building con- verted into one large hall. In this hall are put the tramps, va- grants, vagabonds, and those found drunk in the streets, where they are kept until the next morning, when their cases are sever- ally disposed of by the Commissioners — some being sent to the Penitentiary, others to the Workhouse, and others to the Alms- house. This building is known to the attaches and frequenters of the Tombs as "Bummers' HalL" The location of the Tombs is not such as a commission of experts would recommend as the site of an hospital, situated as it is in the middle of what was once a deep fresh water pond, which was filled up with the dirt and rubbish of the city, and the drain- age of which is anything but perfect ; dampness pervades the entire structure, and it is not an uncommon thing for the cells to be overflowed with the water which is forced back through the drain pipes — yet the sanitary condition of the place compares favorably with that of any similar institution. During the cholera season of 1849 but few cases occurred in the Tombs, and none of them were contracted in the place. This circumstance must not be taken as evidence of the healthfulness of the locality. Nothing but the unceasing vigilance of the officers, and the strictest regard to cleanliness and known sanitary laws, preserved the general good health of the prisoners. The Tombs has, on more than one occasion, been pronounced unsafe. The walls in several places are sunken to a considerable extent Not many years since a crack, fully four inches in width, which extended from the top to the bottom, was discovered in one of the walls. It was occasioned by the sinking of some of the foundation stones. This crack was at the time repaired, making ♦ 52 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. the building look, to the eye, as good as ever. Some day the people may be startled by the announcement that the City Prison has become a Tomb indeed. During the last year there were committed to this Prison alone 30,271 prisoners — a daily average of above 83. On the 31st of December, 1872, there were remaining 517 prisoners in the Tombs. THE PILLORY. CHAPTER V . GAMBLING. — AX ESSAY BY A CONVICT. — LIFE OF MULLIGAN. "Jacques," said Defarge, "judiciously show a cat milk if you wish her to thirst for it — judiciously show a dog his natural prey if you wish him to bring it down one day." — Dickens, in Tale of Two Cities. EVER since the painted pasteboards were invented for the amuse- ment of an indolent Spanish king, gambling has had a strong hold on humanity. The turn of a card has consequently been the turn in many a man's fortune, and more unwritten dramas have been enacted around the green baize than will be found in all of dra- matic literature from Euripides down ; and siren as is the voice of Fortune at any time, it is peculiarly beguiling when it comes in the shape of the rat-tat-tat of a roulette ball or the click-click of a faro check. We all feel this fascination for games of hazard at some time or other, and the fever in the blood will break out now and then in our tramp from the cradle to the grave. It makes no difference whether it be a toss of the dice on a sweat cloth or a flyer in Wall street, it is gambling all the same. The " tiger " is a chamelion beast, and roams the jungle of society in various shapes. We may meet him within the portal of a church, where some beau- tiful and devout young lady member, anxious to gain as many dollars as possible during the Fair, raffles off a kiss at a dollar a chance ; but it is still the tiger, with the prayer book in its velvet paws. We see him also on the grand stand at the race course ; at the pool room during election times ; -npon the Rialto, where his growl comes in the form of the gold indicators click ; everywhere, in fact, where men meet, can the tiger be seen. But whether the wager be a pair of kid gloves or' a million dollars it is all gambling. It is a passion as universal as that of love. This being the case, it is not at all unnatural that those who do not drop their money on the magic cards themselves, should never- theless take an immense interest in all stories connected with the tiger. We find this the most interesting kind of literature ; it holds us as did the lurid eye of the Ancient Mariner the gaping listener to his fishy tale. Knowing this weakness of our common nature, 54 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. we propose to introduce the reader into the chambei of horrors through the ante-room of gambling. Perhaps as good a salute as any will be an essay on this particular vice from the pen of a convict — a man who, in his palmy days, had an intimate acquaintance with the tiger, and knew all the peculi- arities of that wonderful animal. It was written by a graduate of the New York House of Eef uge, and will be found, we trust, an entertaining screed : a gambler's view of gambling. It has been said with truth that a great city is a conglomeration of forces, which, in their action on individuals, are as merciless as Niagara. We all know how that gigantic cataract rushes on to its dizzy edge. It makes no difference to it whether drift wood or human beings — whether boats or babies come within its power; its business is to pour on and roar on, and that it does without the slightest compunctions of conscience. So, too, does a great city roar on and rush on, without regard to the fate of individuals. What cares a great city whether this man or that is swept over the cataract of metropolitan vice, and then swallowed up in the great maelstrom of destruction, which ever stretches its swirling gorge just below. Great cities like New York are crossed in every direc- tion by rapids of vice, and are full of whirlpools of moral and physical destruction. I intend in this article to map out one of the most fearful maelstroms that beset voyagers — especially the young — as they sail over the ocean of life. This monster vice is Gambling. It is of sucn hideous mien that it would seem as if it only needed to be exposed to be shunned. Let the case be fairly stated, with- out exaggeration or any false color being given to the picture ; let the youth know beforehand the consequences of indulging in this sin — its effects upon his character, habits and prospects ; the deceits, stratagems and frauds connected with it ; the kindred vices into which its victims inevitably fall — and he would no more enter a gambling hell for amusement than he would sport upon the crater of a raging volcano. Men are not so mad as to ruin themselves deliberately, and with their eyes open. No man becomes a professed gambler with the expectation of EXTERIOR OF A FASHIONABLE GAMBLING-HELL. 56 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. blasting his hopes, planting daggers in his breast, and bringing ruin upon his head. The youth who finds himself for the first time in a fashionable gambling saloon has no intention of shipwrecking his moral principles, disappointing the cherished hope of friends, filling a mother's heart with anguish, and bringing down a father's gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. Convince him that such will be the inevitable end of this night's beginning, and he will flee from that hall as he would from the jaws of death. But he has been enticed there, and he tarries under a fatal delusion. His attention is absorbed by the brilliancy of the scene the gay company, the exhilaration, the excitement connected with the thought that he may in a few moments win large sums of money. But he knows not where he stands. He knows not that Hell here lies in ambush, and nightly hundreds of young men are here offered up to the gigantic Moloch of Play. He knows not that he is breathing a deadly atmosphere — as deadly as that of the Upas valley ; that beneath the fair exterior and winning smiles of the company before him the fiercest passions are raging. He sees not the" burn- ing avarice which is all aflame in every heart, which has consumed to ashes all the virtues of humanity. All is bright now, the dark shadows are yet to come. Should this warning save but one youth from the snares and fascinations of this vice, it will not have been written in vain. In treating the subject I will include under the term Gambling all games of hazard, whether played with cards, dice or billiard balls, for money or its equivalent. The objections to the system apply to every department of it, and every avenue that leads to it It matters not how trivial is the amount that is staked, or how firm may be one's resolution not to risk large sums, and not to became an habitual player, the principle involved, and the dangers con- nected with the evil are the same. The most inveterate gambler, who is dead to all moral considerations and human feelings — whose swindling operations are carried on upon a gigantic scale — com- menced his career by playing for a glass of wine or an oyster supper. He perhaps laughed at the idea that he should ever play, except occasionally for amusement. But once launched upon it, he was powerless to resist the force of the current which was sweep- ing him onward to the black sea of infamy. THE GAMBLER'S FAMILY. 57 When once the victim gives up the plea of playing for a small stake, merely to give a zest to the game, he takes up the more dangerous one of making a business of the matter. He never acquires the wealth he aims at, for, as dupe after dupe is caught in his net, and their gold falls rattling into his coffers, his cry is still more — more I It is true that a few persons may amass wealth by games of chance, but every dollar is the fruit of some one's toil. It is cover- ed with the poor man's sweat, the tears of orphans, the blood of broken hearts. It is found that a gambler is rapidly qualified for every other species of villany. The fiery excitement to which he yields him- self in the gaming room influences every other passion. It pro- duces a state of mind that can be satisfied only with intense and forbidden pleasures. The gambler finds his amusement in the circus, the theatre, the lascivious dance, the race course, and in night revellings and Bacchanalian feasts. Ordinary excitements are insipid and stale in his estimation. He would gladly witness as a pastime bull fights, pugilistic encounters, and, perhaps, his craving for excitement could only be fully satisfied by scenes such as the pagan Komans formerly feasted their eyes upon, in which men and women were torn to pieces by wild beasts. In this manner does this great vice make a Yandal of a man. Nor should the youth forget that, if he is once overtaken in its toils, the hope of extricating himself, or of realizing his visions of wealth and happiness, is exceedingly faint. If he does not become a bank- rupt in property he is sure to become one in character. Would the gamester unlock the springs of his heart, that he has pressed down as with iron — would he suffer memory and reflection to do their work, what tragic pictures of life might they paint for him. The first tableau in the series would be One of calm bliss and joy — not a cloud in the heavens, save that tinged and made beauti- ful by Hope. Then the scene changes. A tearful and deserted wife, with her sobbing child, keeping watch with her lone night lamp until the breaking of the morn. Again it changes, and haggard misery creeps into the picture. The tears of starved and shivering children embitter the cup which Fate presses to the lips of the gamester. Once again it changes and we see a grave — a 58 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. green and lovely grave — where the faithful heart that loved him to the last sleeps its lone sleep of death. Nature is more kind to this heaving mound than was the husband to the wife who lies beneath the daisies. The singing bird builds its nest in the willow that lovingly bends o'er it ; the sunshine gilds the scene with its splendor, and the rains of heaven fall, like tears, upon the hallowed spot " Dark is the night ! how dark ! no light, no fire ! Cold on the hearth the last faint sparks expire. Shivering she watches by the cradle side For him who pledged her love, last year, a bride. Hark ! 'tis his footstep ! No, 'tis past, it's gone. Tick-tick I How wearily the time crawls on. Why should he leave me thus ? He once was kind, And I believed 'twould last. How mad 1 how blind ! Rest thee, my babe ! rest on ! 'Tis hunger's cry. Sleep, for there is no food ! the fount is dry. Famine and cold their wearying work have done. My heart must break ! And thou ! The clock strikes one. Hush ! 'tis the dice box ; yes, he's there — he's there ! For this he leaves me to despair. Leaves lovel leaves truth! his wife! his child! for what? The wanton's smile, the villain and the sot ! Yet I'll not curse him — no, 'tis all in vain ; 'Tis long to wait, but sure he'll come again. And I could starve and bless him but for you, My child — his child ! Oh. fiend ! The clock strikes two. Hark ! how the sign-board creaks ! the blast howls by. Moan ! moan ! A dirge swells through the cloudy sky. Ha ! 'tis his knock ! He comes — he comes once more! 'Tis but the lattice flaps — the hope is o'er. Can he desert me thus? He knows I stay Night after night in loneliness, to pray * For his return — yet he sees no tear ! No ! no ! It cannot be — he will be here. Nestle more closely, dear one, to my heart ; Thou'rt cold ! thou'rt freezing ! but we will not part. Husband, I die ! Father ! It is not he ! Oh, God protect my child ! The clock strikes three. GAMBLING- HELLS. 59 They're gone — they're gone ! the glimmering spark has fled; The wife and child are numbered with the dead ! On the cold floor, outstretched in solemn rest. The babe lay frozen on its mother's breast I The gambler came at last, but all was o'er. Dread silence reigned around The clock struck four." Gambling leads to intemperance. The intoxicating cup is the natural refuge of the gamester. All the large gambling establish- ments are furnished with private bars. Here many young men are induced, for the first time, to put the wine cup to their lips. A delicious supper is also spread nightly. The choicest viands, the rarest game, the most expensive liquors grace the board. Tinted chandeliers throw a mellow light over the scene. The foot falls noiselessly upon soft carpets, and the eye is enchanted with the superb pictures hung around the room. There is no noise, save the muttered exclamations of the players and the clicking of the ivory chips. Can it be wondered at that this scene should seem fascina- ting to the young man just entering upon his metropolitan life. It was the boast of the famous Crockford, of London, who kept a magnificent gambling house, that he ruined a nobleman every day. May not the keepers of the gambling hells in New York and other large cities boast that they ruin some noble youth — some son of hope and promise — every day. Most truly has the gaming salon been denominated a hell. It is a hell of fierce passions, of wrecked hopes and agonizing tortures — a hell where fiends congregate, and foul deeds are plotted and accomplished. Could the malice, rage, deceit, remorse and despair that are found within its walls be embodied in tangible shape, and their ghostly forms move around the table — could the spirit of departed victims but return and utter their wild execrations against the villains who ensnared them — could the cries of wives and starv- ing children echo through the brilliant saloons, would not the, gamesters be startled from their gayeties, and look with horror upon the spectal forms around them ? Would not the bloated inebriate, the hoary blasphemer, the keen swindler, the merciless destroyer of the innocent turn pale and tremble in view of the doom that awaited him ? They are indeed hells, and their keepers are indeed monsters — men who have been known to kick from their doors the unfortu- 60 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. nate from whom no more money could be fleeced, who have abso- lutely left those by whom they have been enriched to perish by cold, hunger or suicide. Gambling naturally leads to murder and suicide. Under this head might be presented a long and dark catalogue of crimes. I can point to no less than four of my boyish companions who became murderers in their young manhood, because they were demoralized by the vices and associations of the gambling room. Two of these are serving out life sentences in State Prisons, and two of them A GAMBLING SALOON. were hanged — one in Pennsylvania and one in New York I can. not think of one of the latter unfortunates without feelings of deep grief Alas ! poor Jerry. My best friend in my boyish days, at the New York House of Refuge, studying in the same class, and playing the same pranks on the tutor. He was a fine looking, curly headed boy, and was an universal favorite with his young companions. Graduating from the Refuge, he grew up, as a matter of course, a wild young man ; but he was as generous and kind hearted as he was wild. THE RESULT OF GAMBLING. 01 He was induced by a friend to visit a gambling hell, and from that day became a victim to the gaming table, and all the hellish passions and vices that are fostered by gamblers. When luck went against him he took to stealing, and so between gambling and stealing he spent his time. About this time he became acquainted with a young woman, and she promised to marry him ; but a fellow gambler and thief won the girl away from poor Jerry, and this was the blow which crushed him. Maddened by liquor, and chafing under the wrong done him by a man in whom he had confidence, he sought immediate revenge. Arming himself with a huge knife, he went to the man's room with the intention of killing him, but instead of finding him there he found his unfaithful sweetheart. His brain was all on fire with rum, and in a sudden burst of passion he stabbed the girl whom he had so sincerely loved The girl died almost immediately, and poor Jerry was tried, convicted and hanged. He had a dear old mother, loving sisters, and many kind friends, but they were powerless to avert his doom. In the Tombs, on the morning of his execution, his mother and sisters came to take farewell of Jerry. He was still the cherished treasure of his mother's heart ; still the idol of his sisters. They loved him none the' less for his misfortunes. They clasped him closer to their breasts because he was condemned of the world. It is said the most affecting scene which ever took place in the Tombs happened then and there, when the mother and sisters were told they must bid him farewell. The very officials of the Tombs, who are used to such scenes, could not but weep like little children. Again and again did the mother embrace her curly headed boy and say farewell. The sisters' grief had made them dumb, and they stood weeping their very souls into their eyes. But the final moment came at last, and the women, blinded by tears, were almost carried away. I could also mention many young men whose lives have been wrecked, and whose death has been that of the suicide ; but why enlarge upon the dreadful story. I trust that enough has been said to bring vividly before the inexperienced youth the horrors of this dreadful vice. I could number, also, scores of men now dragging out felons' dreary lives in the State Prisons of the country. The wine cup slays its thousands, gambling its tens of thousands. 02 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. Yes, gambling destroys the soul — it breaks down the moral principles, deadens the conscience, and severs every tie that binds man to his Creator. It leaves him without hope and without God in the world — a poor outcast from the sympathies and promises of Heaven — a wanderer upon a bleak and desolate creation. No stars of hope light up his pathway through life. He neither seeks the joys of Paradise nor fears the fires of Hell. The approach of Death does not startle him — the darkness and silence of the grave do not terrify him. As a fit finale to this gloomy chapter I will tell the story of Billy Mulligan's life, a noted gambler of this city, and his attempt at murder in a faro bank. William, or Billy Mulligan, as he was commonly called, was a man of small stature, but as desperate a character as could be found among the rowdy element of New York. He was a professional blackleg, and, like the rest of his kidney, always dressed in clothes of the finest texture, although rather loud and flashy in their pattern, style and general appearance. At the breaking out of the gold fever he went to California, where he gave full play to his native ferocity, and was concerned in many brawls and bar room fights, during which he made free use of the knife and pistol, weapons which he would use on the slightest provocation, real or fancied. He soon earned an unenviable notoriety, and receiving a pressing invitation to leave the place, he returned to the city, where he engaged in the only pastime — gambling — for which he seemed to have any inclination. He one evening entered one of the most fashionable hells on Broadway, where, becoming involved in a dis- pute with one of the men of the house, he drew his pistol and attempted to shoot him. For this he was arrested and, sent to the Tombs. He was tried for the offence, convicted, and was sent to the State Prison for two years. During his incarceration in the Tombs he was frequently visited by a handsome young woman, who was possessed of some money and considerable jewelry — diamonds, etc. — which she sacrificed to meet the expenses of Mulligan's trial. On the evening preceding his departure for Sing Sing she called upon him, and in so many .words offered to marry him. He consented. The knot was tied by Judge Brennan, who at that time was on the bench. The next BILLY MULLIGAN. 63 day they started on their wedding tour for Sing Sing, the bride manifesting a devotion such as woman only knows. Mulligan did not remain long in prison. After he had been there about three months he was pardoned. In spite of the devotion of his wife, and all she had done for him, he deserted her on his release from jail and returned to California, where, getting into trouble, he was ordered to be arrested. He was pursued by the officers into a house, into which he barricaded himself. When the officers A BAR ROOM VICTIM. approached he made a desperate resistance, firing several shots through the window at the crowd below, one of which took effect The door was forced only to find Mulligan at the head of the stairs with a revolver in his hand He had evidently made up his mind not to be taken alive. At length, seeing there was no other alternative, and really in self-defence, one of the officers drew his pistol and shot him, kill- ing him instantly. Few mourned his loss. CHAPTER VI. COLT'S CASE. — THE MURDER OF SAMUEL ADAMS. — THE DEATH GRAPPLE IN COLT'S OFFICE. SHIPPING THE BODY TO NEW ORLEANS. — DETECTION, ARREST, THE TOMBS. — THE WEDDING IN THE CELL. SUICIDE OF COLT. " The hand had shut upon it tight, with that rigidity of grasp with which no living man, in the full strength and energy of life, can clutch a prize he has won. They dragged him out into the dark street, but jury, judge and hangman could have done no more, and could do nothing now. Dead, dead, dead!" — Dickens, in Martin Chuzzlewit. f\K the afternoon of Friday, the 17th day of September, 1841, Mr. John C. Colt, a professional book-keeper, and teacher of ornamental penmanship, was sitting in his office, which was in the granite building at the corner of Chambers street and Broadway. Tlie bnilding still stands, and is occupied by Delmonico as a restau- rant. Mr. Colt's office was on the second floor, looking out upon Chambers street In an adjoining room a Mr. Wheeler, also a book-keeper, was sitting at work. With him was a young lad, a pupil of his. It was between three and four o'clock, and at that very moment there was walking to the building a man who was walking to his death. That man was Samuel Adams, a printer. Colt was engaged in writing a work on book-keeping and Adams was printing it. There was a balance of money due by the author to the latter, and Adams was coming to see Colt about the ac- counts. On he came — into the entrance, up the stairs, into the room. He sat down on the opposite side of the table to Colt, and the two began an argument about the amount of money due from one to the other. A small hammer, or axe, lay upon the table. The different opinions held by the two about the debt led to il] feeling. Argument became abuse. FOUR YEARS AT MNG SING. 577 In an almost inaudible voice, and with bowed head, he re- plied, " I have nothing to say." Judge Davis, in a deep, stern tone, then passed sentence, as follows : — In rendering this verdict the jury Lave exceeded, and more than exceeded, all the mercy that should be extended. No appeal to this Court can diminish the sentences below the highest pen- alty fixed by statute to the degree in which you are convicted, and that is apparently slight when compared to trie great crime yon have committed. I do not desire to make any further re- marks in this case, but shall impose upon you all the punishment that the law authorizes, only regretting that the sentence cannot be more adequate to the awful Clime that rests upon your guilty head. The sentence of the Court is that you be imprisoned in the State Prison at Sing Sing at hard labor for the term of four years. Stokes received the sentence with a fortitude that astonished nearly everybody. At first his head was bowed down, but at length he straightened up, and at the close showed no feeling. Thus ended, on the 2 ( Jth of October, 1873, the trial of Edward S. Stokes for the killing of James Fisk, Jr. The various trials ; the opinions of the judges and counsel who were successively engaged therein ; the deliberations of the juries and the verdicts they rendered, form a chapter in the history of the causes celebres of criminal trials that will not soon be forgotten. The verdict gave general satisfaction to everybody except the friends of Fisk, and the prisoner himself. Stokes's counsel and friends considered him a fortunate man, but Stokes felt that he should have been accpiitted. He alone knows the causes that led to the fatal en- counter, and as a jury of his countrymen have decided his crime was manslaughter, he cannot longer stand accused as a murderer. Some scandal was provoked after the trial was ended by the con- duct of one of the jurors. By the kindness of the Court he had been allowed an oppor- tunity to transact some private business. This privilege he abused, and he used it to declare his determination that he in- tended to save Stokes from the ignominy of capital punishment. The phraseology he used was not so refined as this, but that was 37 578 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. the meaning of what he said. Deputy Sheriff French, who had this juror in charge, stated that he and the juror visited Bryant's Minstrels, the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and other notable places where convivial parties congregate. In the hearing of a miscel- laneous company the juror declared that Stokes should never be convicted. This fact was substantiated on the testimony of more than one witness, whose evidence was furnished to the proper legal authorities. THE SOCIAL GLASS AT DAILY'S. A few days following the conviction of Stokes he was brought before Judge Davis and committed to the Tombs for contempt of court, where he was detained for sixty days and compelled to pay a light fine. He occupied the cell vacated by Stokes. Warden Johnson, between Stokes and whom there was not the most amiable feeling, now that Stokes had been condemned, removed him to a cell on the ground-floor, there to await his transfer to the State Prison. Early on the morning of Nov. 1st, three days after his convic- tion, Deputy Sheriffs Shields and Cahill called at the cell-door ACCEPTS THE SITUATION. 579 of Stokes, and told him to prepare for his departure to Sing Sing. Stokes was surprised, believing he would be allowed a longer time to make his final arrangements, but he never murmured. Stoical to the last, he hastily gathered together his papers bear- ing on his case, many of which were documents the world had not yet heard of, and stepped out in the corridor. He lit a cigar A CONVICT AT THE HOSPITAL WINDOW. and stood with his back to the stove, coolly anticipating the first act of degradation that was to remind him that he was now a felon. The deputy, who had walked many a mile with him in the Tombs yard, while taking his daily exercise, approached him with the handcuffs, and as Stokes put out his arm and bared his wrist, he looked up to the skylight to conceal his emotion. The 580 STOKES LEAVES THE PESTILENTIAL TOMBS. MAP OF "COLLECT POND," GIVING THE PRESENT SITE OF THE " TOMBS," AS DRAWN BY JOHN CANTER, THE COUNTERFEITER. — SEE PAGE 259. AS A SING SING CONVICT. 581 glistening bracelet snapped with a sharp click, and a shock like that from an electric battery shook his frame. The steel that encircled his wrist had sent its cold embrace to his heart, and Stokes, for the first time since the fatal encounter with Fisk, realized that he was now an outlaw from society and the world. Stokes bade a hasty good-by to some of the prisoners who were standing on the corridor above, and crossed the yard that led to the prison entrance. Arriving at the Sing Sing Prison he donned the repulsive cos- tume that was handed to him, and was soon lost to view in a com- munity of outlaws. So much has been published regarding Stokes and his crime ; we being acquainted with him previous to his troubles, and desir- ous of adding to this chapter something authentic regarding his intimacy with Fisk and Miss Mansfield, called on him at the Prison and requested an interview. He met us with his usual courtesy and discussed every event preceding the fatal tragedy. We found him on the top floor of the hospital, officiating as clerk of prison register. Here on an old-fashioned desk were a number of standard books which already showed signs of much handling. Stokes was in the prison garb and was already show- ing the effects of his imprisonment. His hair was quite gray, and, contrasted with his olive complexion and black eyes, gave him a decidedly distingue air ; closely shaven, he needed but a cowl to give him the exact resemblance of a Franciscan monk. There was yet perceptible some of the hauteur that characterized him during his trial, but his imprisonment evidently wears on him. He cheerfully performs his duties, and has already gained the respect of the officials. Warden Hubbell has advanced ideas on the treatment of prisoners, which may yet be adopted in all prisons. There are those in Sing Sing who are not curbed and scourged. Stokes is one of them. The warden thinks that there should be gradation in punishment, and that different organiza- tions require different treatment, and he acts accordingly. At our solicitation Stokes has written his own story, and we give it in the Appendix. CHAPTER XL. THE STATE PRISON AT SENG SIXG — ITS ORIGIN CAPACITY DISCIPLINE, ETC., ETC. " That he should, for a term of years, reside in a spacious mansion whdre several other gentlemen were lodged and boarded at the public charge .... had their hair cut extremely short, and chiefly lived on gruel and light soup." Dickens, in Old Curiosity Shop. PBEVIOUS to 1828, the two prisons of the State were located, one in the city of New York, the other in the village of Au- burn. That in New York, popularly known as " Newgate," was on the block bounded by Amos, Christopher, and Washington streets on the north, east and south, and by the North Kiver (now West street) on the west. The old prison stands there to-day, outwardly as it was then, except that workshops and tenement houses, and eating-saloons and rum-shops have covered the va- cant spaces that once spread away from three sides of it. It was first opened as a prison on the 25th of November, 1797 — convicts, previous to that time, being confined in the county jails of the sever- al counties where they were tried and convicted. It was of the Doric order of architecture, and contained fifty rooms, twelve by eighteen feet in the clear; besides cells for solitary confinement, kitchens, offices, and workshops. Its capacity was the safe and proper accommodation of not to exceed four hundred ; but the records show that at times there were more than double that number within its walls. It was surrounded by a high wall, and, until it was finally abandoned, that wall, and what it enclosed, with the cry of ".Old Hays," had more terrors for the boys of those days than fills the boys of to-day, with the Municipal Police in full chase, and the Tombs, the State Prison, or the Gallows, in the foreground. At last the crowded condition of " Newgate " so forced itself r upon the public attention, that the Legislature, on the 7th of March, 1824, passed an act providing for the appointment of Commissioners to select a proper site for another penal institu- SYSTEMS OF GOVERNMENTS. 583 tion, and to adopt a system and provide for the erection of suit- able buildings. Under that act Stephen Allen, Samuel Miles Hopkins, and George Tibbits were appointed commissioners. At that time there was much discussion, and consequent divi- sion of opinion, as to the relative merits of three systems of prison government. The first was the continuously isolated and non- laboring system of Pennsylvania ; the second was the triple or quartette occupancy of large cells, with such labor as could be adapted to small rooms, as practised at " Xewgate ; " the third was what has since become known as the " Auburn " system, which is a combination of the two first, viz. : solitary confinement at night and through Sunday, and constant silent or non -intercourse labor in large shops. The commissioners were thinking, deliberate men, and puzzled as only thinking and deliberate men can be by the facts and argu- ments of the contestants. The advocates of the solitary, non- laboring system professed little regard for either the moral condi- tion or physical comfort of the felon. With them it was a naked proposition to kill or cure, and they came boldly to the front with a plan to locate the prison on Bedloe's Island, and to build and conduct it upon the system that a felon once within its walls should see no living being except his keeper until he had served out the period of his incarceration. lie was to be turned inward upon himself — to be allowed to commune only with his own thoughts. It is more than probable that these views would have eventually prevailed had not the advocates of what was claimed to be the more humane system linked with their other arguments the alluring theory that felons should and could be made to pay their way, and also contribute to the public treasury. They not only ad- vanced the theory, but they professed to be able to point out the unquestioned road to success. About thirty-three miles from ]Sew York, on the east bank of the Hudson, was a partially developed strata of white marble that was known to be inexhaustible. The State should buy this — set its convicts to work drilling and blast- ing, and hammering and chiselling — and so the city would soon become one vast expanse of marble palaces, at a cost that would hardly exceed that of the adobe huts of the Aztecs, while the State treasury would grow so plethoric as to warrant the early 584: THE NEW YORK TOMBS. discharge of the inevitable tax gatherer. The friends of human- ity computed the thousands of millions of billions of feet and yards and tons of the raw material that lay embedded in those everlasting hills ; they had the exact cost of maintaining a felon twenty-four hours ; they knew to a feather's weight just how much marble he could delve out ; it would by natural gravitation slide down the hillside to large barges that would be waiting to receive it, and thence go floating with the tide down to the growing white metropolis of the western world. Honest citizens would henceforth dwell in marble halls that knaves would shape from the great limestone formation which nature had so temptingly located on the very confines of the city. The Commissioners might — and doubtless would — have turned a cold shoulder towards the humanitarian, but they could not resist the economist and his statistics. They negotiated with the owner of this marble El Dorado for the purchase of his farm, which they obtained at what then was a fair price for farming land. It contained about one hundred and fifty acres of rough, unimproved land, on which was a large dwelling, of most fan- tastic design and construction, since known as the State House, and which for several years was used as the residences of those connected with the prison. Capt. El am Lynds was then the Principal Keeper in charge of the discipline of the Auburn Prison. He was ordered to detail one hundred from the convicts in that institution, with the priv- ilege of selecting such persons as he thought fit for keepers and guards, and with this force proceed to the new location at Sing Sing, and commence with the construction of a prison capable of accommodating six hundred inmates upon the plan of the Auburn system, viz., a separate cell for each convict. Capt. Lynds had been a commissioned officer in the United States Army, and was thoroughly imbued with the views of discipline which at that time characterized the regular service. His will was a law of itself, which he never permitted to be violated by any subordinate — citizen or convict. Clothed with ample powers to purchase materials, and urged to prosecute with un- ceasing vigor the construction of the new buildings, he and his party landed at Sing Sing on the morning of the 14th of May, AUBURN CONVICTS BUILD SING SING PRISON. 585 1825, and proceeded at once to work. Before night barracks had been erected capable of sheltering men and provisions and implements, and in twenty-four hours he had commenced blast- ing out material for the proposed structure. From that day until May, 1828, when six hundred cells had been completed, officers and men continued in unpausing labor — held under their accustomed discipline by the vigilant eye and unrelaxing hand of the master spirit. The convicts moved from Auburn had been chosen for their physical power, regardless of their moral standing in the prison — there was no enclosure to restrain them — they were in the open fields, guarded by less than one-tenth of their own number, and yet from the day they left the cells at Auburn until they had finished the cells that were to entomb them at Sing Sing, there was not one attempt at escape, and no infraction of discipline that called from the master spirit a more harsh admonition than the single word " Beware ! " The moral energy of that one man was sufficient to awe into subjection the most turbulent, while the most desperate were hardly rash enough to provoke a contest which they well knew would be " short, sharp and decisive." The original plan of the prison called for a building five hun- dred and forty feet long, forty feet wide, and three stories high, which gave six hundred cells. These were in blocks, divided by an arch or passage-way in the centre, and having stairs at each end of each block. The cells are back to back, and encased by a wall (pierced with a small opening in front of each cell), which supports the. roof. Before the roof was finished it was ascer- tained that the accommodations were entirely inadequate, and therefore a fourth story was added. Subsequently two additional stories have been added, so that at this time there are twelve hundred cells — six hundred in each block. These cells are seven feet in depth, by seven in height, by three and a half in width in the clear. The dividing walls are eighteen inches thick, and the ceiling stones about a like thickness — the same stone forming the ceiling of one cell and the floor of the one above it. The cells are approached by galleries, now sustained by iron brackets let into the masonry. There is a clear space of seven feet be- tween these galleries and the outer shell. The cells are closed 5S6 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. with grated doors one-half their width. Those in the south block are each locked separately ; those in the north block are locked in divisions of fifty each, by a lever working a bar, to which are attached fifty bolts, one of which fits into an eye on each door. If all the doors are not closed the lever will not work. The lever being down, is fastened in place by an intricate combination lock. When the first six hundred cells were completed, and also suitable buildings for offices, kitchens, hospitals, guardhouse, store- house, and a residence for the principal keeper, the convicts from " Newgate " were removed to the new quarters, and that prison abandoned and sold. OFFICERS OF THE PRISON. When the city prison was abandoned, and its inmates trans- ferred to the Sing Sing prison, the management or general direc- tion of the latter was nominally vested in a Board of Inspectors, composed of five persons appointed by the Governor and con- firmed by the Senate. Three of these were required by law to be residents of the town in which the prison was located, and two could be chosen from the State at lar^e. They were authorized to appoint an Agent, a Principal Keeper, Clerk, Chaplain, Architect, and such number of Keepers and Guards as they deemed requi- site, not exceeding one of each to every twenty-five men. The highest salary paid was §1,000 per annum to the Principal Keeper, and the privilege of a house with lights and fuel. Medi- cal attendance was provided by a physician resident in the adja- cent village, who paid a daily visit, at the munificent compensa- tion of 8300 per year. For many years this daily service was rendered by Dr. Adrian K. Hoffman, father of the late governor. In practice, until 1S43, the Inspectors had little to do with the internal affairs of the prison, beyond the appointment of the principal otficers. The Agent purchased the supplies, and the Principal Keeper had an almost exclusive charge of the discipline. The Inspectors were generally men of respectability and worth, and that was all. In the list of names, until the period above named, there is hardly one that was ever heard of beyond the locality. In !Si3, Governor Bouck, by some strange departure judge edmonds' administration. 537 from the regular custom, chose to nominate as the two non-resi- dent Inspectors Hon. John W. Edmonds, of New York, and Gen. Thornton M. Xiven, of Orange. The latter was in a short time succeeded by lion. John Bigelow, then just commencing public life. From the advent of these men, the Inspectors have more and absolutely assumed control of the details of the management, and absorbed the powers and privileges of the subordinates. Judge Edmonds came to the prison as the advocate and represen- tative of the views of prison reform or system of discipline and treatment then being advanced by the Prison Association ; affd as he was a man not easily argued out of a position or swerved from a purpose, he succeeded in grasping full control and insuring the adoption of his views. During his administration the government became most thoroughly that of the Board, and so continued — though, with perhaps one or two exceptions, the members of the Board have never been marked for theoretical or executive capa- city. As we have said, the location of the prison was determined by the settled purpose to employ the convicts in the working of the quarries. For a brief period this business appeared to be prose- cuted with satisfactory results. Contracts were made with the State, and with the Corporation of the City of Albany, for the stone for the State House and the City Hall. The French church that was partially built in Canal street, near Elm, in the city of Xew York, Grace Church on Broadway, and several minor build- ings, were also contracted for. The earnings from these sources being all carried to the credit of the convicts, and the expenses charged to the State under the head of Construction and Im- provement, it did look for a few years as if the promises of self- support, so lavishly made, might be partially realized. But elements were at work that were soon to dispel these hopes. First, it was discovered that the quality of the stone was very in- ferior. Unless takeu from the deepest strata, it would not bear the effects of the climate. Under the alternate operations of heat and cold, it would in a short time decompose and crumble away into sand. This was a serious drawback ; yet the expenditure of labor and money in sinking shafts down to the more compact formation would doubtless have been rewarded with stone of the 588 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. best quality. But another element was busy that was not to be overcome. The stone-cutters of the State became alarmed at the prospect of having their trade monopolized by convicts. Through the public journals, and by the voice of public men, determined efforts were incessantly made before the Legislature to pass laws re- straining such employment of convicts. The Legislature was not slow to listen to a voice so potent; and accordingly, laws were enacted forbidding the cutting of stone by convicts, except those that had learned the trade previous to their incarceration. That substantially ended the practical use of the quarries, and they have since been a fruitful source of loss. Efforts have been made, on sev- eral occasions, to utilize them, but without any permanent success. The last was particularly illustrative of the fortunes that appear to follow all schemes looking to profit from the employment of convicts by the State. Three or four persons had, in a small way, been prosecuting the business of lime-making, with apparently satisfactory results. They employed about fifty men, for whose services they paid the State forty cents a day, on a contract for five years. As they paid nothing for the raw material, and no rent for yard, shop, or wharf room, gave the business their per- sonal attention, and had an average credit of six months on their labor account, they were readily supposed to be doing a pay- ing business. The Inspectors conceived the project of buying their fixtures and the unexpired term of their contract, and en- larging the business so that the entire force of the prison should eventually be employed in its prosecution. Listening to their representations, the Legislature paid the contractors §125,000 for their good-will and fixtures — have since expended about as much more in enlargements — and very easily managed to lose from ten to twenty cents a barrel on every barrel of lime shipped. After a three years' trial, the use of the quarries was substantially aban- doned. In 1ST3 and '74 the lime business revived — 40,000 bar- rels being made in 1873 ; the quality being superior, it commands a higher price than any other in market. Since the prohibition of stone cutting, the authorities have been constantly making efforts to obtain employment, but without any settled success. Carpet-weaving, the making of shoes, saws, files, chains, barrels, furniture, hats, toys, clothing, cutlery, liar- NOT ABLE TO COMPETE WITH OUTSIDE LABOR. 589 ness hardware, small castings, machinery, and almost every variety of mechanics, has been alternately tried and abandoned, or not prosecuted to the extent of the labor that is at command. A few years ago an effort was made to establish a stereotype foundry, which promised to be very successful, but the Legislature promptly prohibited its prosecution. The prices paid range from thirty to sixty cents per day, which does not include fuel. The men gene- rally have an allotted task which they can do in half a day, and are then paid for overwork. There are many skilled workmen among them, but the work turned out, even of the coarsest kind, never compares favorably with outside labor. It all has on it what experts call " the stripe," and can be readily distinguished by those in the least familiar with prison workshops. Now about one-half the inmates are at work for contractors in the manufac- ture of furniture, boots and shoes, and harness hardware — the only three branches of industry that have been continuously prosecuted for any length of time. At the present time the expenses of maintaining the prison exceed by about §175,000 per annum the earnings of the con- victs. SANITARY CONDITION. Notwithstanding the admitted fact that the prison is badly ventilated, and unfit for the confinement of so large a number as 1,200, it is also a fact that the sanitary condition is far more satis- factory than that of the same number of adults in private life. The average of deaths is less, and the general health better. When it is borne in mind that nine out of ten of those sentenced come to the prison from a life of debauchery — that they are to a large extent diseased and broken down when they come there, the exemption from sickness and death is remarkable. The average of hospital inmates is less than two per cent. — a result that speaks strongly in favor of regular habits, plain food, and restraint from excesses. The pure, bracing air of the locality doubtless promotes this exemption from disease, but the primary cause must be due solely to the ample, but simple and regular diet so rigidly en- forced. It is a remarkable fact that but two men have ever attempted to 590 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. commit suicide. One started out with the determination to starve himself to death. He resisted food for six days, when the doctor resorted to the stomach-pump and forced sustenance down him, until he finally gave up. The other attempted to cut his throat, but was very willing to have the wound dressed and readily seconded the efforts made to restore him. PRISON-LIFE. Prison-life is always monotonous. Convicts have their social classifications as well defined as the habitues of the Bowery and the Fifth avenue, and, whether in or out of prison, they naturally gravitate towards their respective classes. The forger may be called the representative of the highest type of criminal society — the sneak-thief as of the dregs ; and these distinctions are as promptly recognized within the walls as they would be without. The pickpocket looks upon the cracksman with awe and admira- tion; the burglar ardently aspires to the higher level of the counterfeiter. Few incidents occur to break up the regular routine.- You might be connected with the prison for years, and beyond an occasional attempt to escape, or a rash and probably futile attempt to violate the rules, you will notice nothing to form the ground- work of a reminiscence that would linger in the memory more than a year or two. Ask the oldest of the officers for items of interest connected with his prison experience, and he will hardly recall a half-dozen. That there are so few occurrences of note is due to the coward- ice and the shrewdness of the criminals. The lower classes are in perpetual fear of the rules — the more intelligent, like Monroe Edwards. Huntingdon, Graham, Ketchum, Walworth, Stokes, and men of that type, know that they will best promote their own comfort and render their incarceration less burdensome by a careful observance of all the rules and customs of the prison. The men of the highest intelligence will do the most to screen themselves from the attention of the public, and generally ask no greater favor of their keepers than perfect isolation from the world during the period of their confinement. HOW REFRACTORY PRISONERS ARE TREATED. 591 discipline; and means OF ENFORCLNG- it. As we have said, the Auburn system, adopted at Sing Sing, was very strict in its requirements. It gave no privileges to the con- vict. It required prompt, implicit obedience. Under it the man was a machine, wound up in the morning to work so many hours, and at night laid away to remain silent and motionless until the morning came again. He knew only his keeper in the prison — of his fellows he knew nothing or next to nothing. Of the out- side world he knew only what might be told him by the one relative that at long intervals was permitted a brief visit. THE CATO'NIXE-TAILS. So long as there remained any of the old convicts that Capt. Lynds had drilled into obedience, and so long as he was active and untrammelled, there was little punishment — but little required — for when punishment was inflicted it came with a will and for a purpose. The " cato' nine-tails " hung by the side of every keeper — a visible reminder of reserved power that was ever potent 592 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. to keep in subjection the* fractious spirits by which he was surrounded. Until 1819, the only punishment permitted by law was solitary confinement, with a bread-and-water diet. In that year the Legis- lature authorized the use of the lash, and its occasional use was continued until about 1840, when it was prohibited by legislative enactment. When the law forbid this mode of enforcing obedience, the discipline soon sensibly demonstrated the necessity for some equally powerful substitute. A shower-bath became that substi- THE SHOWER-BATH. tute — not such as is common to the bathing-room, with its gentle, refreshing spray, but one which held the offender in a close em- brace, while it poured upon his head a small cataract of water. The above sketch well illustrates the appearance of the first apparatus. It will be seen that the convict is held as in stocks, by clamps around his ankles, and wrists, and neck, so that it is impossible for him to make the slightest change of position, beyond shaking or turning his head. The water came through a sieve placed four or five feet above the head. The holes in this sieve were a 562 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. Detention after Eedmond had been sworn. Officer O'Donnell had charge of the Harts. It appeared that they called into nu- merous drinking saloons, at every one of which the witness ob- jected, but they all insisted. The conversation during the drinks was very ludicrous. At last they came to one drinking place ; drinks were proposed ; "I objected," said witness, but it was no use ; while all hands were drinking, Eedmond asked, " How do you like my testimony ? " Witness said he got on very well. " Oh," said Eedmond, " I studied it well." LUDLOW-STREET JAIL. Mr. Tremain asked the witness whether he drank anything. To which he replied that he has been a temperance man for twenty years, and drinks nothing but soda-water and sarsaparilla. The witness then related how on the way to the House of De- tention Thomas Hart told him he expected, besides the $1,000 from Mr. Powers, Mrs. Fisk would pay him. MAP OF "COLLECT POND," GIVING THE PRESENT SITE OF THE " TOMBS," AS DRAWN BY JOHN CANTER, THE COUNTERFEITER. — SEE PAGE 259. 662 APPENDIX. and establish honesty, industry, and virtue in their stead ; cause the prisoner to heartily co-operate in his own reform by showing him that those placed over him are his friends, and that their best efforts are enlisted for his welfare. After a prisoner has once had the advantages of this division and, if he then return to crime, he must not be allowed to enter here the second time. A second division should be arranged for the incarceration of the milder cases of second offence and older criminals ; here the system should be different, discipline stern and exacting. A chance should here be offered to reform, but the privileges should be few and labor constant without task or reward. For cases that have failed here a third division should be ar- ranged. In this I would imprison all cases for third convictions,, long-term burglars, cases of manslaughter, arson, robbery, murder. This prison should be very secure, so that escapes would be impos- sible ; the fare should be simple, coarse and regular; the system of labor should be constant, and all the surroundings of the plainest kind. Let as many such prisons as are needed be added to those now in use ; let them be wisely located where supplies can be cheaply obtained, and a ready market found for the wares pro- duced, and it is not unreasonable to believe that large advances would be made in the way of reforming criminals, and at very little cost to the public treasury. George B. IIubbell, Warden, Sing Sing Prison, February 28, 1874. CHAPTER XXXVIII. the adventurous career of mrs. victoria c. woodhull and miss tennte c. claflin how they did the clairvoyant dodge in the west " eastward the star of woodhull takes its way " their appearance in new york the office in broad street and the ur-town residence — establishment of " woodiiull 6c claflin's weekly " — free-love gathering of the storm — vicky's lightnlng flashes — the great beecher scandal " in the tombs " ludlow-street jail. " All their cares, hopes, joys, affections, virtues, and associations seemed to be melted down into dollars ; whatever the chance contributions that fell into the slow cauldron of their talk, they made the gruel thick and slab with dollars." 1 — Dickexs, in Martin Chuzzleicit. IT was about five years ago that New York woke up one morn- ing to a new sensation. This time it was not a murder nor an elopement, a defalcation nor a suicide — quite ordinary events, it is true, in this metropolis — but on the contrary, the sensationalism of the event resided entirely in its novelty. Two women, from the Prairies of the \Vest, had pitched their tents in Gotham, and openly announced themselves as being engaged in the buying and selling of stocks and gold — in a word, as female bankers. Who are they? Such the question young New York asked it- self almost immediately. So far as their personal appearance went, it only piqued the rising curiosity. The elder was a woman of some thirty years, with clear-cut features, short hair brushed carelessly back from an expressive and handsome face, gray eyes, with the flash in them of burnished steel when the sunlight plays upon it, a form elegantly refined, and a manner as suave and en- gaging as could be desired. Such was Victoria C. "Wbodhull. The other ! Stouter in person than her sister, the anatomical curves of her body approaching more nearly Hogarth's famous definition of the line of beauty, saucy and jpiyuante where Mrs. 4 ■ THE BEECHER-WOODHULL MEETING. 511 private meeting with him, where she could uninterruptedly dis- cuss the situation of affairs, would be to her the consummation of her most sanguine hopes, and she set about it with the pertinacity and adroitness of a diplomat. Some time previously she had gained an entrance into a certain set in the City of Churches, where Mr. Beecher was a frequent visitor. She manoeuvred for an interview with Mr. Beecher and obtained it. At the meeting she did, with the most unblushing effrontery, request him to come with her to Xew York and introduce her to an audience of scof- fers and unbelievers. This to her was the golden opportunity, and it was here that she was terrible in her wrath, when she found that the great preacher was about to fail her, and she left the house after Mr. Beecher had declined to accede to her re- quest, vowing that if she went alone before the crowded audience then waiting to greet her, she would introduce some startling topics in her lecture not down in the bills. An admirer per- formed the service required of Mr. Beecher, and she bottled her wrath to be exploded at a future day. So pronounced did she now become in her social views that the most prominent free- thinkers deserted her standard and openly denounced her in the press. Her affinity deserted her, and she soon perceived that her charm was no longer potent. The women who had used such en- dearing expressions towards her were now lukewarm in their regard. She saw that she was excluded on every side, and she determined to be revenged. It was on the 1st of [November, 1872, that the number of WoodhuLl dk Claflirts WeeJdy appeared which created so great a sensation. The publication of the paper had been suspended for several months, and its reappearance was, of itself, enough to awaken curiosity; but when the additional fact was developed that the reissue opened with a bold attack upon the character of that popular preacher who has occupied so prominent a place in the minds and affections of a vast multitude, curiosity rose to the dignity of intense interest. The demand for the "Weekly" was such that the price rose rapidly from ten cents to one dollar a copy. The only evening paper which gave an account of the so- called "Beecher Scandal" was the Ecening Telegram, wherein 512 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. the eight columns of the Woodhull dk Claflin WeeJdy were con- densed to half that space. For some days the press of the metropolis was silent in regard to this new sensation, but presently the country press, and notice- ably the Chicago Times, began to discuss the question. The day following the publication of the sensational article Mrs. Victoria C. AVoodhull and Miss Tennie C. Clafliii were ar- rested at their office, 48 Broad street, as they returned in a car- riage from lunch, on a warrant issued at the instance of Mr. Anthony Comstock. Recognizing the situation at a glance, they raised their Alpine hats to the official representative of the U. S. Government, and, without display, went quietly to their quar- ters in Ludlow-street jail. To the grave accusations Rev. Henry Ward Beecher made no public response. He is reported to have said that, "In passing along the way any one is liable to have a bucket of slops thrown upon him. It is disagreeable, but it does no material harm." The Assistant United States District Attorney declared that it was the business of the Government to protect the reputation of its revered citizens, and the social pests were hurried off to jail without even a preliminary examination. Here they were visited by a number of persons of both sexes, every one of whom were at war with society, and all followers of the Kew Dispensation. The public were terribly incensed and the women and their fol- lowers were denounced on all sides. For some time no person could be found with sufficient temerity to go their bail, and in a cell at Ludlow-street jail they were obliged to stay for several weeks. Among those who visited them was George Francis Train. Every day he called and urged the women to bide their time, promising them his support and counsel. Reporters inter- viewed them and published their grievances, but the press gener- ally insisted that these women should be speedily tried and disposed of. But it was evident from the start that the United States au- thorities, in their zeal to prosecute these vixens, had usurped the law. The arrest should have been made on no such charge as that pre- ferred in the beginning. It is doubtful if the objectionable publi- cation contained matter that could be properly called obscene, any THE SHOOTING AT THE GRAND CENTRAL. 523 THE POSITION ON THE STAIRS AS DESCRIBED BY STOKES. CHAPTER XV. JOHN MAHONY, THE AMERICAN JACK SHEPPARD. — AN ACCOUNT OF HIS ADVENTUROUS LIFE, WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. — HIS CAREER OF CRIME AND HIS REMARKABLE ESCAPES. " But to give it to you short and handy I'll put it at once into a mouthful of English. In jail and out of jail, in jail and out of jail, in jail and out of jail. There, you've got it." — Dickens, in " Great Expectations.'" f I ^HIS chapter is certainly one of the most interesting in the book. It is the life of a noted criminal, written by himself, and reads like a romance of Ainsworth. It will be noticed that this young man was possessed of an intelligent mind, and was not devoid of the graces of composition. He handles the pen quite as well as he did the a jimmy,'' and has given a vivid picture of his checkered career. It was written expressly for the author of this work, at his request. LIFE OF JOHN MAHONY, as written by himself in the Massachusetts State Prison, Christmas night, 1870 : I was born in the City of New York, in the year 1844 Of my early childhood my recollections are imperfect, but I still remember that I was very wild, and ran into every sort of danger. One day, while playing on the ice, I broke through, and would have been instantly drowned, had not my sister, at the risk of her life, saved mine. I was the only son of a family of four children. "While quite young my father was taken sick and confined to his bed for a long period. I remember, every afternoon my mother would take me up to my father's room, when he would give me some little luxury, and fondle me on his bed. My recollections of my father's death are vivid and distinct, although at the time I had no correct idea what death was. I and my sisters and a few friends were standing at his bed side, and my mother was kneeling at the head of the bed. SCHEME TO PROVE AN ALIBI FRUSTRATED. 2G3 tucky, Thomas F. Marshall, of Kentucky, W. M. Evarts, J. Pres- cott Hall, Wm. M. Price and Eobert Emmett. James R Whiting, District Attorney, conducted the prosecution, assisted by Ogden Hoffman, United States District Attorney. Edwards was the great attraction every day, and the court room was always crowded by those anxious to have a glimpse at him. He was a man of middle height, rather slender, with dark hair and whiskers, and, singular as it may seem, light blue eyes. He was elegantly dressed, his linen in particular being faultless. He wore no ornament save a gold watch chain. On the day set down for his trial there appeared in the columns of the Courier and Enquirer newspaper, edited and published by Major Noah and Gen. James Watson Webb, a very bitter article about Edwards. Mr. Marshall took occasion to allude to the article in open court and abused Gen. Webb therefor. A duel was the result, in which Gen. Webb was shot. Gen. Webb and his second, on their return to the city, were arrested for violating the laws of the State by engaging in a duel. They were tried and convicted, and would have been sent to State Prison but for the pardon of the Governor (Wm. H. Seward) — a monster petition, which appeared to bear the signature of everybody in New York, asking then par- don, having been presented. The trial of Edwards was conducted before Judge Kent, son of Chancellor Kent, and one of the ablest jndges at that time on the bench. The trial was ably conducted — the District Attorney and the prisoner's counsel bringing their full powers in play. The defence tried to prove an alibi, endeavoring to show by the hotel register that at the time he was alleged to be in New York he was actually in New Orleans ; but the District Attorney had got possession of some letters which showed that he would be in this city at the time he tried to prove that he was in New Orleans. Among them was one to a friend in this city, in which he stated that he would be on, with a pocket full of rocks, the very day he claimed to have been at New Orleans. The Court desired the prisoner to show where he had got the large amount of money which had been taken from him in Phila- delphia. He claimed that it was furnished by his partner for the purpose of buying lands in Texas, and stocking it with negroes and DISCOVERY OF APPLIANCES FOR ESCAPING. 267 "had been cut out The affair created quite a commotion, and many sympathized with the prisoner, though the District Attorney was rather inclined to be sceptical, and doubted his ever having had the money. "While at the Tombs, Monroe Edwards was favored with the visits of many lady friends and admirers, who brought him bouquets and other nick-nacks and trinkets. Among the gifts he received from them were fine, highly tempered saws, for sawing through iron, a pistol, and rope ladder made of silk, with grap- pling irons attached, to enable him to effect his escape from prison. The Warden, learning that he had these articles in his trunk, went to the prisoner's cell and demanded that he produce them, which, however, he refused to do ; but being threatened with pun- ishment, and the forcible opening of his trunk by the prison authorities, he at length complied. The articles were found con- cealed in a false till at the bottom of the trunk. A day or two subsequent Edwards was taken to State Prison, but he no sooner arrived there than he set his wits to work devis- ing some means to effect his escape. He conceived a system of telegraphy with some of his fellow prisoners, by means of grains of corn so disposed as to appear the result of pure accident, but perfectly intelligible to those in the secret. One of the grains getting accidentally displaced one day, by being blown away, the "communication was interrupted," and the attempt to repair the accident led to its discovery by the prison authorities. On another occasion he got into a large drawer in the work- shop, which was pushed to by one of the convicts. When evening came, and the convicts were taken to their cells, it was discovered that one of them was missing. The alarm was sounded and search instituted, but without result. At daybreak the search was re- sumed with no better success. The keepers were puzzled, but did not relax their efforts, and extra guards were put out. Edwards' position in the drawer was necessarily a very uncomfortable one, and, beginning to experience the pangs of hunger and thirst, he could stand it no longer, and so he gave himself up. The Warden ordered him to be whipped, and henceforth to work with ball and chain attached to his leg, which, in addition to being very painful, 80 THE NEW YORK TOMBS. mentous crisis. We have no doubt Governor Seward will order an investigation at once into this most unheard of — most unparal- leled tragedy." In a further allusion to the subject, the Herald says : " Who gave hem: the knife ? Persons who were alone with him in his cell yesterday : Kev. Mr. Anthon, Dudley Selden, Samuel Colt, Caroline Henshaw, Sheriff Hart. BURNING OF THE TOMBS CUPOLA. t " In addition to the above, David Graham and Robert Emmett visited him together, when no other persons were present. Also, John Howard Payne and Lewis Gaylord Clarke visited him with Samuel Colt. Who gave him the knife ?" There were at the time, and are now, many persons who believe that during the excitement consequent to the burning of the Tombs cupola, Colt was allowed to escape, and a body substituted by his friends to convey the impression of suicide. CHAPTER VII. THE DRIFTWOOD IN THE CURRENT OF METROPOLITAN LIFE. VA- GRANTS, BUMMERS, DRUNKARDS, REVOLVERS, MISERS. " May I take this opportunity of remarking that it is scarcely delicate to look at vagrants with the attention that I have seen bestowed upon them by a very dear young friend of mine ? They should not be looked at. Nothing disagreeable should ever be looked at." — Dickens, in Little Dorritt. IHE tattered army of Vagrancy is fully as miserable a one, although a great deal larger than that crew of ragged militia which the doughty Falstaff commanded. These descendants of Ishmael are found all over the globe. Whether it is the diseased lazzaroni, sunning their sores in the streets of Naples, the dirty alms seeking wretch, who prowls through the fetid alleys of Constanti- nople, the stalwart sun burned gipsy, pitching his tent in the frag- rant English lane, or the Irish beggar, who runs beside your jaunt- ing car, turning somersaults in the mud for your amusement; whether it be any of these, or any of the thousand and one shapes in which Vagrancy manifests itself, its miserable votaries are all stamped with the unmistakable mark of vagabondism, and all march to a pauper's grave under the same ragged banner. Tramps abound in the country, where they eke out a precarious existence, but it is in the great city that destitution loves to hide itself. Down along the river front, and in the back slums of a metropolis like Xew York, can be seen at all times cases of hardship which would break the heart of a philanthropist to contemplate. There, where foul smells abound, where the pawn shop blossoms side by side with the bucket groggery, where dirty children play in the mud with dogs and pigs, where drunken men beat drunken wives, where battered hats are thrust into broken windows, where a sickly and polluted light gives all things a horrid glare, where disease, poverty and death stalk in fearful shapes, there it is that the outcast lives a miserable life, and there it is whence the workhouse is liberally recruited. Such men and women are constantly drifting into the 6 * CHAPTER VI. COLTS CASE. — THE MURDER OF SAMUEL ADAMS. — THE DEATH GRAPPLE IX COLT S OFFICE. — SHIPPING THE BODY TO NEW ORLEANS. — DETECTION, ARREST, THE TOMBS. — THE WEDDING IN THE CELL. — SUICIDE OF COLT. M The hand had shut upon it tight, with that rigidity of grasp with which no living man, in the full strength and energy of life, can clutch a prize he has won. They dragged him out into the dark street, but jury, judge and hangman could have done no more, and could do nothing now. Dead, dead, dead!'' — Dickens, in Martin Chuzzlewit. the afternoon of Friday, the 17th day of September, 18-41, Mr. John C. Colt, a professional book-keeper, and teacher of ornamental penmanship, was sitting in his office, which was in the granite building at the corner of Chambers street and Broadway. The building still stands, and is occupied by Delmonico as a restau- rant. Mr. Colts office was on the second floor, looking out upon Chambers street In an adjoining room a Mr. Wheeler, also a book-keeper, was sitting at work With him was a young lad, a pupil of his. It was between three and four o'clock, and at that very moment there was walking to the building a man who was walking to his death. That man was Samuel Adams, a printer. Colt was engaged in writing a work on book-keeping and Adams was printing it There was a balance of money due by the author .to the latter, and Adams was coming to see Colt about the ac- counts. On he came— into the entrance, up the stairs, into the room. He sat down on the opposite side of the table to Colt, and the two began an argument about the amount of money due from one to the other. A small hammer, or axe, lay upon the table. The different opinions held by the two about the debt led to il] feeling. Argument became abuse. THE GAMBLER'S FAMILY. 57 When once the victim gives up the plea of playing for a small stake, merely to give a zest to the game, he takes up the more dangerous one of making a business of the matter. He never acquires the wealth he aims at, for, as clupe after dupe is caught in his net, and their gold falls rattling into his coffers, his cry is still more — more / It is true that a few persons may amass wealth by games of chance, but every dollar is the fruit of some one's toil. It is cover- ed with the poor man's sweat, the tears of orphans, the blood of broken hearts. It is found that a gambler is rapidly qualified for every other species of villany. The fiery excitement to which he yields him- self in the gaming room influences every other passion. It pro- duces a state of mind that can be satisfied only with intense and forbidden pleasures. The gambler finds his amusement in the circus, the theatre, the lascivious dance, the race course, and in night revellings and Bacchanalian feasts. Ordinary excitements are insipid and stale in his estimation. He would gladly witness as a pastime bull fights, pugilistic encounters, and, perhaps, his craving for excitement could only be fully satisfied by scenes such as the pagan Eomans formerly feasted their eyes upon, in which men and women were torn to pieces by wild beasts. In this manner does this great vice make a Vandal of a man* Nor should the youth forget that, if he is once overtaken in its toils, the hope of extricating himself, or of realizing his visions of wealth and happiness, is exceedingly faint. If he does not become a bank- rupt in property he is sure to become one in character. Would the gamester unlock the springs of his heart, that he has pressed down as with iron — would he suffer memory and reflection to do their work, what tragic pictures of life might they paint for him. The first tableau in the series would be one of calm bliss and joy — not a cloud in the heavens, save that tinged and made beauti- ful by Hope. Then the scene changes. 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