Читать книгу The Great Harry Thaw Case; Or, A Woman's Sacrifice - Benjamin H. Atwell - Страница 7

MAZIE FOLLETTE

Actress named in the case.

the pit and joined the crowd. The frightened chorus girls ran back on the stage.

The employes of the roof garden thought for a time that the shots came from the stage. Manager Lawrence had been intending to introduce some revolver shooting in the duel scene where the line occurs, “I challenge you, I challenge you to a du-u-el,” and the stage hands and other hangers on at the garden thought the innovation had been put on a night or two ahead of schedule.

They quickly found out their mistake, and had their hands full in a minute or two handling the people, who were pushing right and left, the women screaming to be let out.

During all the confusion and excitement nobody made any effort to stop young Thaw. He looked at White’s body, and then, still holding his revolver, walked leisurely to a clump of potted plants and back toward the elevator. Fireman Brudi saw a part of what had happened, saw Thaw shoot White, and knew who the young man was that was walking away with the revolver.

Brudi went up to him and caught him by the shoulder. Thaw smiled at him and made no resistance when Brudi told him he would have to wait until the police came. He was very pale, but otherwise cool and collected.

Brudi held Thaw lightly, while the crowd gathered around. It was a wait of several minutes before Policeman Debes of the Tenderloin station, appeared and took charge of Thaw. Debes telephoned to his station house for the reserves to handle the crowd and the desk sergeant sent ten policemen. Debes was waiting for the elevator to take Thaw to the police station.

Just before the elevator started, a slender, dark, pretty young woman, the same one with whom Thaw had been sitting before he sauntered away on his errand of death, came running into the car. She threw her arms around the prisoner and kissed him.

“Oh, Harry,” she cried. “Why did you do it, Harry?”

“It’s all right, dear wife,” he answered, kissing her. “He ruined you, and I fixed him. It’s all right.”

All this time the audience was terror stricken.

“Sing, you girls. Sing. For God’s sake keep on,” shouted the manager.

The girls sang. They danced as the silent form lay prostrate. Their faces were white. But they were on the stage and they quelled their emotion.

A man who sat at a table behind Mr. and Mrs. Thaw, told the following story of the tragedy:

“I noticed Harry Thaw and his wife when they came in. Thaw seemed to have been drinking and was very restless. He got up from the table several times and, leaving his wife, walked back toward the elevators. They were sitting at the Twenty-sixth street side of the house.

“At 10:30 Stanford White came in and took a seat at a table about five tables in front of the Thaws. He talked a while to Harry Stevens and then sat alone watching the show and resting his head on his right hand.

“As he walked down the aisle, Harry Thaw noticed him and got up from his seat. While White was talking to Stevens, Thaw walked over and stood behind some artificial shrubbery just a few feet away from them.

“When Stevens left, Thaw walked deliberately down the aisle and stood for a minute behind White. He pulled a revolver from his pocket and fired three shots. I think the first missed, but the other two took effect, and White rolled to the floor, upsetting the chair.”

With Thaw safely lodged in a police station cell, one of the greatest trials of a century faced the public. The inexorable hand of the law began its work the next day after the arrest, when Thaw was taken from his cell in the Tenderloin police station, photographed and measured by the Bertillon system, like a burglar or holdup man, arraigned in police court and held without bail. Perfectly calm, Thaw went through the hurried formalities in court, absolutely refusing to make any extended statement regarding the tragedy.

The policeman who arrested Thaw, gave this account of the shooting in the police court hearing.

“I found the people almost crazy, trying to get out of the place. I jumped into the mob and saw a woman lying down. She had fainted, and then I saw White.

“I said to Thaw: ‘Did you do it?’ and he replied: ‘Yes, I did it. That man ruined my life or wife.’ I don’t know which he said, but it sounded like that. Then he went on saying: ‘That man ruined my home. I guess he won’t ruin any more homes. Is he dead?’ I told him he was, and he said he was glad of it, and he was glad he ‘made a good job of it.’

“When I arrested Thaw, a woman, who Manager Lawrence told me was Mrs. Thaw, rushed up to Thaw and kissed him, and said: ‘I did not think you’d do it in that way!’ ‘It’s all right, it’s all right,’ Thaw told her. Then she whispered something into his ear. I don’t know what she said to him.”

“Down in the hall and in the street a lot of women gathered about us and shook hands with Thaw and sympathized with him. ‘Why did you do it? Why did you do it? they kept asking.’”

A statement credited to Thaw immediately after the arrest is this:

“We were all at a party in Martin’s. You can find out the names of the others there, but I was sitting some distance from my wife. Suddenly I saw her grow pale and begin to shiver, and I thought she was ill.

“I made a motion to inquire what was the matter and she called a waiter and wrote a note which she sent around the table to me.

“The note said ‘The dirty blackguard is here.’ Then I turned and saw that fat scoundrel sitting there, big and healthy, and then I saw her and how she was.”

“Did White make any motion to attack you?” was asked of Thaw.

“What?” said Thaw.

The question was repeated.

Thaw nodded his head in the affirmative.

From his pocket when he was searched there was taken a leather revolver shield such as policemen carry their weapons in. He had $168 in cash and several blank checks, besides a gold cigarette case.

Thaw did not display the least anxiety about his own welfare nor about the effects of his shots. He never asked a question about White. He did not ask any questions of the police at all. He seemed as unconcerned as if bailing out a chauffeur instead of facing an accusation of killing a man.

As he talked with a reporter he reverted again and again to his wife’s attack of shivering when she saw White in Martin’s.

“That poor, delicate little thing, all nervous and shaking like a reed,” he said, half to himself. “And there he was, the big healthy scoundrel. God!”

While the coroner’s proceedings were in progress in the city next day, the final scene of the tragedy as affecting White was carried out on Long Island. At St. James’ the funeral of the dead architect was held.

Friends and relatives of White left for the little town early to attend the ceremony. By the time they returned the grand jury had indicted the man who brought White’s career to a close and the coroner’s jury had held him, completing the legal formalities preceding the trial itself.

Thaw was restless in his cell in the Tombs from the time he entered it until he was arraigned. His wife visited him every time the rules of the prison allowed, and remained at his side as long as possible each time. His mother, an aged, feeble woman, also went to New York to comfort her offspring in his hour of trouble, and the Countess of Yarmouth, his sister, was among the visitors. Other visitors—unwelcome ones—were the alienists whom the state and the defense sent to examine the young man. Thaw fought the insanity plea vigorously, and at times almost fought the experts. Finally, however, he allowed the examinations into his mental condition.

STANFORD WHITE