Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 63, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 March 1915 — NOT FOR HIMSELF [ARTICLE]

NOT FOR HIMSELF

By FRANK LAWRENCE.

(CWiXtL) AU through the trial the prisoner had sat with his body bent forward and his head resting between his gnarled fiats —a picture of sullen dejection. It was only at the close of hia lawysr'g brilliant summing-up that he leaned back and cased about the crowded court room. Then the district attorney faced the jury. "The evidence against Jnd Golden, gentlemen," he said in quiet toner that carried to the farthest corner, “proves conclusively that he is a desperado unfit to be at large. “The street gang baa made him what he is, and when we send him back to prison we are striking at the organised crime of New York city. •That means that when we strike at Jud Golden we are not merely inflicting just punishment upon a ruffian who prowls about with brass knuckles, knife and revolver, engaging in all forma of crime—now a Uttle blackmailing affair, now beating up a helpless man for a few dollars, or committing murder for a scarf pin—” T object, your honor,” interrupted counsel for the defense. “My client Is ned on trial for robberies or murders, but for killing a man in self-defense; and furthermore —”

"Objection overruled,” rapped the judge. “Proceed.” T repeat." continued the district attorney, “that we are not striking at this one man, but at the gang that Is undoing the work of the home, the school and the state. "Now, gentlemen, your duty Is blear. Release Jud Golden, and you not only expose society to a dangerous man, but you encourage the gang spirit which is rotting the vitality of our city." Thea, turning to the judge, he said: "Inasmuch as the prisoner has spent the greater part of his infamous life In some form of jail for every kind of crime, I ask you to send him back where he belongs. He is morally incapable of living In a law-abiding community.

"Nobody wants him. He has no friends, no means of earning an honest living, absolutely no reason for remaining among decent citizens. The man is a moral leper, and as such should be confined.” The district attorney then addressed the court In the rhetorical style which had so endeared him to the people. As he finished his sum-ming-up, he seated himself quickly and with nervous fingers fumbled his papers and law books. He was afraid to look up for fear of smiling. Those near him whispered their congratulations or passed up notes from his friends. At length the weary wait terminated with the return of the jury, who announced, through their foreman, that the prisoner had been found guilty. The judge rapped for order. “Before I pass sentence on you, Judson Golden," he called harshly, “!• there anything you wish to say in your behalf?”

All eyes were turned toward the prisoner, who seemed taller and more ghastly as he leaned, over the dock. “You’ve got me, judge,” he said slowly, blinking his squinty eyes at the sea of faces before him. “I guess I’ve been pretty well Introduced, an’ I might as well look pleased an’ let the ceremonies go on. "I ain’t goner do the Edelman act, anyhow. What I’ve done, I’ve done. If rm sujry, that’s my business as long as I’m ready to stand the gaff. But there’s somethin’—” The words failed to come, and the big man stared helplessly about, shifting his feet and gripping the railing. His blood-shot eyes rested for a moment on a little old woman at his right who sat with bowed head. Then he recollected himself. “That man is right about the gang. It's done for me. I’m crooked as a double-bowed knot an’ then some. But I ain’t goner air my private affairs any more’n I have to. An’ I ain’t beggin’ off. It’s not for myself Tm talkin’. “You’ve heard that I hadn’t oughter be at large; that no one ’ud miss me if I was shot instead of Edelman. That’s a lie. I know there’s lots *ud be glad to pay my funeral expenses, but Fve got one friend right here now —my mother.” The prisoner’s voice broke as he pointed unsteadily to the little old woman with the faded bonnet, who up to this moment had passed unnoticed. People all over the court shifted about to get a look at her; several cameras clicked. There was a general Whispering, interspersed with cries of “Sit down!” “Keep still!” and “Let him talk!" which died away on the command of “Order!” , The prisoner turned to the "district ■’la.!--.—, attorney. *

"You told my story pretty well, but you didn’t tell it all. You didn't tell 'em my mother went out by the day 'while I played with the gang. You didn't tell 'em I used to steal her money when she came home bent in two from the washtub. Yea an 4 struck her when I was only ten years old because she wouldn’t gimme five cents ' "Why didn't you tell how I stamped on the cakes she smuggled in to me at the reform jchool? JVhj. didn’t r yon'mention my cornin’ home fightin’ idrnnk after beta* 'away five years ? I upset the table Where she had everything spread out for my return, made ■

her gimme all her money, an’ went off with the boys. "A week later she was turned out on the street, an’ I never lifted a finger to help her. Why didn’t you mention that, Mr. District Attorney? “Many a night she passed by Egan’s saloon, where I hung out, an’ slipped some money into my hand. Instead of thankin’ her, I’d invite the boys In an* leave her standin* at the curb. “Then I was sent up for breakin’ into Story’s house. Do you think she was ashamed of her drunken, thievin’ brute of a son? No, sir! She went everywhere beggin’ them to let me go. “Yes, an’ paid for one of the best lawyers in the country, though it didn’t do no good. Then she worked like a nigger to bring me papers an’ tobaccer an’ things to eat. An’ I uster snarl at her for not leavin’ me alone.” The prisoner looked down. at the little limp figure.

“That’s what got me to thinkin’. What did I ever do for her except to make her life miserable an* bring shame on her? One day she tripped as she was goin’ out of my cell, an’ I caught her In my arms and kissed her. Then she smiled up at me through her tears until—“Aw, you wouldn’t understand. But I did. an’ as soon as she was outside the bars I got down on my knees an' prayed—prayed, mind you—that she might live until I was free so I could work for her an* show her how I felt about her now. “Every time she came after that she looked thinner an’ older. Once when she didn’t come at the reglar time I thought—the thing had happened. But she came, an’ I was happy.

“The day they let me go, we took a trip to Coney Island, an’ I felt like a kid. I guess she was happy or she wouldn’t have told me. That Edelman had squeezed fifty dollars out of her as hush money. Told her he’d squeal on me like he did before If she didn’t cough up. “Then, after he got the money, he faked up that lyin’ statement to keep me In stripes because he was afraid" of me. If I’d gone straight home the detectives were ready to pinch me. But I didn’t. I went to the scoundrel an’ ordered him to hand back the money. He pulled bls gun on me, an I let him have mine right In his grlnnin’ face. Then the cops came. Lord, when you’re down you’re always down!

“Now you're goner send me backnow, when I was ready to do a man s work — n ow, when I wanted to slave for her as she did for me — “An’ you won’t let me!” he shrieked, pounding wildly on the rail. “I’m so much scum an’ filth to be swept down In the sewer where I belong. But what about her? What’s she ever done to be punished? She ain’t got a bit of strength left nor a place to go nor a soul to take care of her.” Turning to the judge, he flung out his wasted hands. “Don’t send me away!” he cried. “Don’t you believe me? Just let me work for her till —she dies, an then you can do what you want with me. I said I wasn’t beggin’ off. I am, judge! I am —here, on my knees. “Gimme a chance to prove I’m In earnest —only a year. What more can I say! You’re old yourself. Look at her, judge. Look at her old clothes an' worn-out face. I did it. I’ve killed her. Her face will be before me night an’ day. I—” The prisoner threw his head on his arms and leaned against the rail in a huddled heap. The members of the jury. In various cramped attitudes, stared at the floor or out the windows. Throughout the court room was deep silence, broken here, and there bv a spasmodic sob. Presently the little old woman tottered toward the prisoner’s box and reached up her bony hands from under her shawl. As she felt his convulsive grasp, she pressed her wasted cheeks against his arm and cried ly“It’s all right, pld lady," he muttered hoarsely without looking up. “Stop it now. Don’t take on —don’t.” The whispering died away as the judge looked up from the brief on which he had been tracing patterns, cleared his throat several times, and frowned. Tn accordance with the verdict of the court,” he commenced, and then paused to cough. Tn accordance with the verdict—that is to say—in view of extenuating circumstances sentence is suspended.” There was a general shuffling of feet and chairs as the large audience rose to depart. In a short while the room was empty save for two figures at the dock. Presently the man got up from his knees.

“Come, mother,” he said gently, “we’d better be goin’ home.”