Part 10 (1/2)

A Boston alienist of ”una.s.sailable reputation” took the stand, to argue, for the defense, that Schoenlicht was of a catatonic disposition; he had long, it might be inferred, exhibited symptoms of acute mental disease, which went unrecognized by persons about him, or were interpreted as but traits of character. He had examined the defendant closely, he said, and was satisfied that the man was distinctly abnormal; of a temperament that might well crack under emotional pressure; go berserk; commit a savage crime under compulsion, without being aware of what he did, or remembering it afterward.

This, the prosecution handily countered with the testimony of an alienist for the State, who argued that all criminals might be said to suffer ”mental disease”-the proof of it being, they are criminals. And, granted the compulsive nature of most violent crimes, and the lack of conscious volition on the part of the criminal, was it not a felicitous thing indeed, that capital punishment was the law of the land?

Yet more d.a.m.ningly, the prosecuting attorney called attention to the fact that, long before Schoenlicht had ”gone berserk” and committed his ”savage crime,” he and the late Mrs. Peck were widely known to have been behaving in an immoral manner: cohabiting together (with all that implies of the violations of Christian morality, the standards of decent society, good taste, and the like) with no discretion or shame. And if, as it was rumored, Schoenlicht had once studied for the ministry, surely his public embrace of sin must be judged the more reprehensible; for he knew what he did, and might have known what a price would be exacted from him.

In all, the prosecution called thirty-five witnesses, of whom only a few were cross-examined by Bullock, to avoid testimony further damaging to his client; and of these only one, Mrs. Peck's personal maid, evinced any doubt on the witness stand regarding her statement to the police. She had said that she heard the voices of Mrs. Peck and Mr. Schoenlicht, in a room adjacent to her own; yet, some minutes before that, she believed she had heard the voices of two men . . . although she could not swear to it. ”And who was the second man?” the prosecuting attorney asked skeptically. But the shy young Filipino woman, who spoke English haltingly, could not answer, and the subject of the ”second man” was dropped. Next morning when Bullock tried to pursue it during his cross-examination of the witness, the young woman denied she had heard any such voice-only the voices of Mr. Schoenlicht and Mrs. Peck, which she knew well.

THE TRAGEDY OF one son convicted of murder, and taken forcibly from me might only be compounded by the tragedy of two sons taken from me.

A gamble this veteran gambler dared not take.

(BEHIND THE SCENES of the trial things progressed as badly. By degrees Abraham Licht's money was being drained away in desperate stratagems overseen by the wily Bullock and executed by his secret, unnamed a.s.sistants: the attempted bribery of key prosecution witnesses, those members of the jury who appeared most susceptible to persuasion, the examining physician, the county coroner, and so forth. The manager of the Saint-Leon accepted a generous sum of money to be used on ”repairs” in the damaged room in which Mrs. Peck had died, yet on the witness stand spoke distastefully of the defendant as a ”cold and calculating youth” who had pretended to be good-natured and charming while doubtless planning his crime for weeks. One of the jurors expressed an initial interest in an arrangement by which, in return for his promise to abstain from voting, and thereby hang the jury, he would receive a generous sum of money as a ”donation” he might then give to charity; but when a fellow juror suspected the plan, he hurriedly backed away saying he would vote ”as G.o.d, and not the Devil, directed.” Several ”character witnesses” were found by Bullock, and coached and rehea.r.s.ed in praise of the defendant, but were such poor, unconvincing actors, Bullock conceded it would be a mistake to bring them into court to be cross-examined. The idea of involving Elisha in some way was considered, but finally dropped, for Elisha, even in an ingenious disguise, might be linked by police or newspaper reporters with the Black Phantom of Chautauqua Falls, which would be unfortunate indeed.

The trial proceeded swiftly. The day of summation approached. Abraham Licht's heart was wrung by the pitiful spectacle of his eldest, beloved son a prisoner in the courtroom, in shackles as he was led in and out of the building by uniformed guards; his handsome face ravaged with sorrow, lost to all hope; his gaze steadfastly averted from his father's, in despair and shame. For one Licht must never betray another even to save his own skin. For what could be done in such circ.u.mstances? Abraham Licht urged Bullock to try a higher, more idealized philosophical defense, in the manner of the celebrated Clarence Darrow, where the issue of capital punishment itself would be tried-for in these years, a number of liberal-minded persons opposed execution as a punishment in violation of the United States Const.i.tution. But Bullock countered by saying dryly that he had tried that ploy too often, finding to his chagrin that while an individual judge might be swayed by such humanitarian pleas, juries never were. For a jury was a microcosm of the public and the public wanted hangings.

”Even if the defendant is innocent?” Abraham asked in so plaintive and sincere a tone that Bullock stared at him, embarra.s.sed, and could think of no reply. For of course he believed that his client was guilty.) SO IT HAPPENED that the sensational, much-publicized murder trial, the People of the State of New Jersey v. ”Christopher Schoenlicht,” ended within four days; to the disappointment of all, particularly the platoon of newspaper reporters crowded into the front rows of the courtroom, the somber young defendant declined to take the witness stand to plead on his own behalf; the judge, visibly disdainful of both defendant and defense counsel, as if a bad smell permeated his courtroom, gave brief, perfunctory instructions to the jury, without troubling to lay particular emphasis on the principle of ”reasonable doubt”-for was any doubt reasonable, in so lurid a case; the twelve frowning jurors retired to deliberate, and vote; and were out of the courtroom, as newspaper banner headlines excitedly reported next day, only eight minutes-a ”record-breaking” brevity of time for any murder trial, in any known United States court of law.

Before and during his trial there came to visit Christopher Schoenlicht, in his solitary cell in the Atlantic County jail, a gentleman legal consultant of Mr. Bullock's named ”Murray M. Kirk” of Manhattan. An optimistic middle-aged fellow with a habit of pressing his pince-nez against the bridge of his nose, and speaking loudly and clearly (so that the prisoner's guard would not become suspicious); with a handsome, tired face, and shadowed eyes, and a head of thick, fawn-colored hair always impeccably combed; in a three-piece gray woolen suit, a white s.h.i.+rt with a stiff wing collar, a bow tie with ends tucked neatly beneath the collar and a smart black homburg hat. Mr. Kirk carried black gloves and an ebony cane and had folded a fresh white linen handkerchief into his lapel pocket. The very image of legal propriety; and authority; yet how odd, that he should stare with such baffled yearning at the young Schoenlicht, who s.h.i.+fted uneasily on his hard-backed chair, and sat with bowed head reluctant to meet the elder man's gaze.

Son? Don't you know me? Look me, my darling boy, in the eye!

Though Schoenlicht and Kirk were seated not three feet apart, on either side of a narrow pinewood table, yet the younger man continued to avoid the elder's gaze; sighing often, and pa.s.sing a hand over his eyes, as if in a state of extreme agitation. This was apparently quite different from Schoenlicht's normal behavior with others. Though indicted for the most serious offense, except for treason, that could befall him in the United States, the young man was in the habit of of staring stonily into s.p.a.ce; not listening to his attorney's words; showing indifference to his circ.u.mstances, and to his imminent fate. If required to answer a question (as, for instance, Bullock's exasperated, ”Son, do you want to live?”) he might shrug silently; then revert back into his stony trance. Abraham Licht had told Bullock that in his presence Christopher would ”come alive-to a degree” but in fact this had not happened. Not to the degree that Abraham wished.

At one of these meetings, ”Mr. Kirk” whipped his white linen handkerchief out of his pocket, dabbed at his perspiring face, and said, in a voice edged with avuncular impatience, ”Young man, I command you to sit still. I am your legal counsel's a.s.sistant and you must answer my questions. Otherwise you will be lost.”

At this, Christopher froze. In a most awkward position, one shoulder hunched forward and his head inclined to the right, as if gravity were dragging him down. Did he hear? Did he comprehend? Something glittered in a corner of his eye but did not spill over. Tight as a fist his face was clenched as if the spirit, the stubborn Licht spirit, had retreated far within.

Abraham was reminded, with a shock of fierce tenderness, how, during his eldest son's single year of college at Bowdoin, he'd had the opportunity to travel north to Maine, to visit the boy; discovering the lad in a tavern near campus, in the company of several friends. Abraham Licht had stood at a short distance listening to the boys' artless speech, punctuated by laughter; he'd surprised himself with the thought How like the others my son is!-if I did not know he was mine, I would never identify him as a Licht. Later, father and son had quarreled over this issue, that Thurston should be on such easy, friendly terms with strangers; that he should be accepting invitations to visit their homes, which Abraham hadn't known; that he should risk exposure, and at the very least a serious diminution of his powers. For how could Thurston perceive these individuals as enemies, if he allowed himself to befriend them in such a way? All men are our enemies, then and now was the ethic by which Abraham Licht lived, and the ethic in which he had trained his children, and how came Thurston, obedient Thurston, his Thurston, to contest it?

The disagreement, like so many between Abraham Licht and his children, wasn't so much resolved as simply dropped. For Abraham arranged for Thurston to be ”expelled” from Bowdoin-a discreet bribe to a residence proctor, a discreet bribe to a dean, and the undergraduate was discovered ”in a state of alcoholic inebriation” while returning to campus one night; the only young man of a dozen revelers to be so discovered, apprehended, and charged. It was a measure of Thurston's extreme innocence, Abraham realized, that the boy had never guessed what, or who, lay behind his expulsion. He had simply accepted his fate-”My grades were not so very good, Father, in any case,” he'd said sheepishly. And how readily he'd pleased his father by agreeing that it was time to begin his professional career under Abraham's tutelage, and break off his trifling friends.h.i.+ps forever.

”Do you hear me, Christopher?” Abraham Licht asked, in a wonderfully controlled voice. ”Will you do me the honor of looking at me? I command you.”

Slowly, reluctantly, shamefacedly, the young prisoner turned to his visitor. His lips trembled wetly. His gaze wavered. Yes I am your son. Yes I love you. But, Father-So strained was the atmosphere in the airless s.p.a.ce, the uniformed guard dawdling in a corner took a sudden unwanted interest in them, and Abraham had to temper his speech and govern his manner carefully. For now that his unhappy son was facing him, and looking at him, tears gathering in his eyes, a slip of the tongue or a sudden inadvertent gesture might cause him to break into sobs and to throw himself, like a child, into Abraham's arms.

So Abraham spoke judiciously, and calmly. Asking why did ”Christopher” refuse to cooperate with his counsel? Why did he show so little interest in his fate? And who was the true murderer of Eloise Peck?-”For if you know, son, you should tell. You should tell me.”

For a long moment Thurston stared at him. His young face was drawn, and curiously lined, as if a mask of age had been fitted onto it. When he seemed about to speak, but did not, Abraham whispered, ”I command you to speak. Otherwise you will be lost.”

Was the guard listening? Could the guard, an ignorant, loutish man, have understood? Yet Thurston, being a Licht, could not trust him; and shaped with his lips the heartrending plea Father, I am lost in any case. Better die one than two. For it must be two if not one. Forgive me, Father! I am lost, Thurston is lost.

The distinguished visitor from Manhattan pressed his pince-nez sharply against the bridge of his nose, and rose to his feet. With an abrupt farewell to the prisoner, he turned away; and asked the guard please to escort him out. He would visit him again, in the interest (or so it would appear to observers) of proffering moral support; but never again would the young prisoner so frankly face him, and never again would the air of the visiting room be so highly charged.

For of course ”Christopher Schoenlicht” was found guilty of murder in the first degree.

And no recommendation was made by the jury for mercy.

IT WAS ON a bitterly cold January morning, nearly six months to the day after the death of Eloise Peck, that the young murderer, manacled, hollow-cheeked, appeared before the judge who had presided over his trial, to be told the specific details of his fate.

Had he anything to say to the court, the judge inquired, before sentence was pa.s.sed?

”Christopher Schoenlicht” stood hunched, between his attorney and a bailiff, hearing the judge's words, yet not hearing them; his expression stony; his eyes resolutely downcast; his lower jaw slightly extended beyond the upper, and held rigid.

He had nothing to say.

So it was, nettled, the judge read off his prepared statement, slowly enough so that Schoenlicht might absorb every syllable of every word, to the effect that, his crime being one of inordinate savagery, and his state of mind since his arrest that of a thoroughly unrepentant man, he was thereby sentenced to be hanged by the neck until dead, in accordance with the statute of the state of New Jersey, on a date to be determined by the public executioner, such sentence to be carried out on, or before, 1 June 1910.

”LITTLE MOSES”

Crime? whispers Father.

Then complicity.

Complicity?

Then no crime.

”LITTLE MOSES,” HUSKY for a child of ten, isn't he, sweet-tempered and dim-witted, obedient, faithful, uncomplaining, yes, black as pitch, yes, able and willing to do the work of a near-grown man, and, yes, he will grow, and grow, and grow, and he will work, and work, and work, and being sweet of temper and dim of wit and black, black as pitch, he is faithful as a dog, he will be loyal for life, he has no thought of anything save work, he has no thoughts as you and I do, as white folks do, and, being of course the son, that is the grandson, of Alabama plantation slaves-will he not repay his cost numberless times over the next fifty years?

And his cost, sir, is so reasonable, sir, I will whisper it in your ear so that he cannot hear: $600 cash.

LEMUEL SHATTUCK, FARMER, of Black Eddy, Michigan; Alvah Gunness, farmer, of La Porte, Minnesota; Ole Budsberg, blacksmith, of Dryden, Minnesota; William Elias Schutt, candymaker, of Elbow Lake, Illinois; Jules Rulloff, farmer, of Horseheads, New York; the Abbotts, dairy farmers, of Lake Seneca, New York; the Wilmots, cotton manufacturers, of North Thetford, Pennsylvania . . . And his cost, sir, is so reasonable, sir, I will whisper it in your ear so that he cannot hear: $600 cash.

Though the prosperous Uriah Skillings, stableowner of Glen Rapids, Ohio, paid $1,000. And Estes Morehouse, retired cla.s.sicist, of Rocky Hill, New Jersey, paid $800.

For these gentlemen, and for some others, ”Little Moses” strutted, and cavorted, and grinned, and rolled his white, white eyeb.a.l.l.s, and sang: ”Come listen all you gals and boys I'm just from Tuck-y-hoe I'm goin' to sing a lee-tle song My name's Jim Crow!

Weel about and turn about And do jis so Eb'ry time I weel about I jump Jim Crow!”