by Bruno, Joe
Of course, some people in Georgia were outraged at the murder of Mary Phagan and not too happy with the Governor for cancelling Frank’s execution. As a result, although Slaton’s actions were praised by the Atlanta Journal Constitution, an angry mob charged the Governor’s mansion, forcing Governor Slaton to call out the National Guard. A few days later, Governor Slaton slithered out of Georgia and absconded with his wife to New York City, where they stayed at the tony Waldorf Astoria Hotel, before departing on a tour of New York State, as well as Canada, and the Northern Pacific states (it seemed like Georgia Governor Slaton wanted to be anyplace but in Georgia).
When New York City reporters asked him if he “had slipped out of Georgia” to avoid the angry mobs, Governor Slaton bristled, “I am incapable of slipping out of Georgia, or anywhere else.”
Slaton was then asked if he thought Frank was guilty, and he gave an answer that played more to his ideology than to Frank’s innocence or guilt.
“I do not know if Frank was guilty,” Slaton said. “I was simply asked to commute his sentence. And if I had done otherwise, I would have felt like an assassin. As it was, I went six nights without sleep. But I’d rather go without sleep than to go 40 years, if I live that long, with the blood of that man on my hands.”
Governor Whitman, on the other hand, did not complain about missing any night’s sleep, when within hours of Becker’s appeal being turned down again by the New York Court of Appeals, Whitman refused to commute Becker’s sentence.
BECKER’S FINAL DAYS
On July 29, the day before Becker’s scheduled execution, Becker was awoken at 7 a.m. He was taken from his cell, given a bath and a brand-new set of underwear. At 8 a.m., Becker was taken to the prison barber and administered a close-cropped haircut, so the metal helmet he’d wear in the electric chair would make close contact with the electrodes.
When Becker returned to his cell, he was dismayed to discover that all his personal belongings, including his clothes, a few articles of furniture, and most importantly – a picture of his wife - had been removed from his cell. On a new cot lay a heavy black suit, white shirt, and a black felt slippers; the clothing he would wear when he was executed.
On that same morning, John Ford, the Chief Justice of the New York Supreme Court, issued a statement denying Becker’s last bid to stay alive. This appeal had been presented to him in an affidavit written by Becker’s lawyer Bourke Cockran, after Cockran’s appeal had been turned down by United States Supreme Court Justice Charles E. Hughes. Cockran tried throwing a last-second “Hail Mary” to Justice Ford, but the pass fell incomplete.
Justice Ford said he had “labored for several days and several nights on briefs for and against the application of a new trial.” He then called the newspapermen into his chamber, and as his secretary handed them his written decision, Justice Ford said, “I have denied the motion for a new trial. And this is my birthday. It’s a pretty rough way to spend your birthday, isn’t it?”
Upon hearing about Justice Ford’s decision, Governor Whitman released a statement saying, “Justice Ford did the only thing he could do. The evidence was conclusive. If I had any doubt to Becker’s guilt, I would pardon him.”
When Becker was informed that his last appeal had been denied, and that Governor Whitman had refused to commute his sentence, he told Sing Sing Warden Osborne, “Well, I’ll die like a man anyhow.”
Becker also spoke to prison chaplain Father Cashin, who was spending Becker’s last day with him in order to get Becker’s spiritual affairs in order.
“There is no justice here,” Becker told Father Cashin. “I am confident, however, that I will get it in the next world. I know that the truth will come out, and that the world will know that Becker told the truth and is not the murderer he is accused of being.”
These are hardly the words of a guilty man speaking to a man of God shortly before he’s about to be put to death.
Becker also told Father Cashin, “I do not fear death, but I feel the stigma attached to the name Becker, and I feel the distress and sorrow it will cause my wife.”
HELEN BECKER TRIES TO SAVE HER HUSBAND’S LIFE
Even though all methods to save Charles Becker’s life had been exhausted, Helen Becker would not give up without a fight.
On July 29, Helen Becker arrived at the Governor’s mansion at 11:30 a.m., accompanied by Becker’s co-counsel, John Johnson. When she arrived, Mrs. Becker was dismayed to discover Governor Whitman had left Albany and had traveled to Camp Whitman, near Fishkill, New York. The Governor did receive a telegram in advance notifying him about Mrs. Becker’s arrival, but he left her a letter saying that he had been summoned away from Albany (no reason was given) and would meet her at 6:30 p.m. in the Governor’s mansion.
That didn’t happen either, and it appeared as if Governor Whitman was ducking Helen Becker at all costs.
When she learned the Governor was not in Albany, Helen Becker was crestfallen. She had planned not to ask the Governor to commute her husband’s sentence, but on the advice of her attorneys, instead to reprieve her husband’s sentence until October, when the New York Court of Appeals convened again. At that time, Becker’s attorney would put in an appeal for a new trial based on new evidence. Becker’s attorneys did not disclose what that new evidence was, and they seemed just to be stalling for time.
However, there had been some speculation, that in order to save his own life, Becker was willing to plead guilty to second-degree murder.
This notion was struck down when Becker’s chief counsel Manton said from his office in New York City, “There is absolutely no truth in the statement that Becker offered to plead guilty to murder in the second degree, or to any degree, so far as I know. Certainly no such offer was made while I was counsel. Becker will go to the chair with a dying declaration of innocence.”
With his execution less than 24 hours away, Becker asked for a copy of the day’s daily newspaper. Ignoring the pleas of Father Cashin that he no longer be concerned about worldly things, Becker devoured every word in the newspaper concerning his present predicament. He became outraged when he read that he had agreed to plead guilty to murder in the second degree. Becker became even further unhinged when he read that someone in Albany had released a statement that Becker’s first wife’s death was “suspicious.”
Becker was trembling when he told the priest, “I want to deny those falsehoods. I want to set myself right in the eyes of the world.”
Becker asked for a stenographer, and with the help of Father Cashin, he penned a scathing report to the press, denying any plea to a lesser degree. He also vigorously castigated Governor Whitman for allowing the statement to be published that Becker’s first wife’s death was somehow suspicious. Becker insisted his first wife died of consumption after a long bout with tuberculosis.
Becker spent the rest of the daylight hours writing a series of letters to friends and relatives that he did not want mailed until after his death. The bulkiest letter he wrote was to Governor Whitman.
This scathing letter, which was released to the press after Becker’s execution said, in part:
“I am as innocent as you of having murdered Herman Rosenthal, or having counseled, procured, or aided his murder, or of having any knowledge of that dreadful crime. Mark well, sir, these words of mine. When your power passes, then the truth of Rosenthal’s murder will become known. But not while your nominees remain District Attorneys and can hold the club over these persons. With the aid of judges who were misled into misconceiving the testimony offered on my trial and into misstating it both to the jury and on appeal, you have proved yourself able to destroy my life. But believe me; I will surrender it without rancor. Not all the judges in this state, nor in this country, nor the Governor of this state, nor the District Attorney, nor all of them combined, can destroy permanently the character of an innocent man.”
---- CHARLES BECKER
It wasn’t until 9 p.m. on the night before her husband’s execution that Helen Bec
ker was finally able to receive an audience with Governor Whitman. However, the meeting wasn’t in the Executive Mansion, but in a room in the Nelson House in Poughkeepsie, where the Governor had decided to spend the night. (The governor, probably trying to duck the press until after Becker was dead, never returned to the Executive Mansion that night.) Mrs. Becker was still accompanied by her husband’s co-counsel, John Johnson.
Johnson entered Whitman’s room first, while Mrs. Becker waited in an adjoining room. Johnson extended his hand to the Whitman. Whitman took it and said to Johnson, “Mr. Johnson, I am here to do whatever I can, as a governor and a citizen, for your client.”
Johnson pleaded with Whitman to give Becker a stay of execution until October, when the New York State Court of Appeals came back into session. Johnson said he believed he could convince the appellate division that Justice Ford had erred in refusing to grant Becker a new trial. Johnson spoke for about 15 minutes, but Whitman overruled every plea from Johnson, saying he could do nothing.
When he was finished listening to Johnson, Whitman told him, “I am now ready to see Mrs. Becker.”
Whitman entered the adjoining room and Helen Becker rose to greet him. No handshake was offered by either person.
Whitman told Mrs. Becker, “Mrs. Becker I am now ready to hear anything you have to offer new in this case. I will consider any confidence you wish to make at this time.”
Mrs. Becker was distraught. She tried to stand straight, but her shoulders slumped in exhaustion.
“There is nothing new and I have nothing to tell you in confidence,” she said. “But I do ask for sufficient delay to provide a view of Justice Ford’s decision.”
The governor shook his head. “That is impossible. I’m sorry, but I can take no action.”
Mrs. Becker started sobbing softly.
“But surely a delay will not defeat the ends of justice,” she said.
Then without warning, Mrs. Becker’s soft sobs transformed into a convulsion of wails. Unable to catch her breath, and with walls of tears cascading down both sides of her face, she fell face-forward in a faint towards the governor. Governor Whitman caught her against his chest and laid her gently on the floor. A doctor had to be called in to revive Mrs. Becker.
After she regained consciousness, and before she and Mr. Johnson left the hotel, Governor Whitman did throw a small bone to Mrs. Becker. He ordered his aide, Major Moore, to telephone Sing Sing Prison to tell Warden Osborne that the rule a condemned man cannot have any visitors after 12 a.m. be done away with in the case of Mrs. Becker. And that she should be allowed to stay with her husband as long as the warden deemed proper.
Mrs. Becker thanked Whitman for his small kindness, but before she left she told him, “I know my husband is no saint, but he is not as black as he’s been branded.”
CHARLES BECKER’S FINAL HOURS
Throughout the day of July 29, Becker inquired about the whereabouts of his wife. He knew she was trying to track down Governor Whitman; but he also realized there was no chance the man who had successfully prosecuted him twice, would ever allow himself to commute Becker’s death sentence to life imprisonment.
However, Becker did receive courtesies on July 29 that no condemned man had even been afforded in Sing Sing Prison. Becker was permitted to receive visitors, not in the usual visitor’s room, but in the office of Warden Osborne - a room usually reserved for prisoners meeting with their counsels. With a prison keeper standing guard, Becker was allowed to grasp the hands of loved ones and even embrace them if he wished. While meeting with his brother John and his brother-in-law John Lynch, Becker suddenly inquired as to what time it was.
When he was told it was 20 minutes past nine, Becker said. “This is remarkable! To the minute, it is now three years since I’ve been arrested.”
It wasn’t until 11:30 p.m. that Helen Becker finally arrived at Sing Sing Prison to see her husband. Helen was with Charles for one hour, alone in the warden’s office; except for the two guards present in the room, under orders not to take their eyes off the married couple. Both guards disobeyed that order and diverted their eyes, while Becker and his wife embraced their last embrace.
It wasn’t until 12:30 a.m. that Helen Becker tore herself loose from her husband and bid him her last goodbye. She was led from the room sobbing heavily and in the state of collapse by her husband’s co-counsel, John Johnson.
Charles Becker was led back to his cell, where he paced the room the entire night. In his company was Deputy Warden Johnson, who had promised Mrs. Becker her husband would not be alone in his final hours.
Mrs. Helen Becker arrived at her home at 2291 University Avenue in the Bronx at about 3 a.m. She was so worn out with grief, she had to be carried up the steps to the entrance of her home. There she stayed with family and close friends to await the news that her husband was indeed dead.
BECKER’S EXECUTION
At 5:41 a.m., Charles Becker, accompanied by Father Cashin and Father James B. Curry, entered the execution room at Sing Sing Prison. Becker, dressed entirely in black except for a white shirt, held a black crucifix about ten inches long in his left hand.
The members of the press in the adjacent room, who had known Becker since his days with the Special (Strong Arm) Squad, were shocked by his appearance. Instead of the big, broad-shouldered and strapping man they were accustomed to seeing, the man who was minutes from his death was now the shell of his former self. Becker’s shoulders slumped forward, the cheeks of his face were creased with thick lines, and his eyes looked like black, hollow sockets.
The two priests began intonating the Litany of the Holy Name as Becker approached the electric chair - the machine of death the guards had christened “Old Sparky.”
As soon as Becker, in response to the priests’ prayers, uttered the words “Lord have mercy on us,” five burly guards seized Becker and sat him in the electric chair. They immediately tossed heavy straps around his knees, ankles, wrists, elbows and chest, and tightly secured them with buckles. Not able to move anymore, Becker mouthed the words, “Oh Lord, assist me in my last agony. I give you my heart and soul.”
Two guards slapped a leather cap down on Becker’s head and began screwing in the electrodes on the front and back of Becker’s head and over his temples.
Standing behind and slightly to the right of Becker was the official executioner; a grim, shaven man, dressed in gray and about 30-years-old, whose name was not released to the press. The executioner was to be paid $100 - $50 for executing Becker and $50 to execute a Negro named Sam Hayne, who was to follow Becker into the electric chair.
At 5:43 a.m., Dr. Charles Farr, the doctor in charge of the execution, motioned to the executioner. The grim man dressed in gray pulled down the electricity lever, which trust 1,850 volts and 10 amps into Becker’s body. Becker stiffened straight from the initial shock, and the crucifix slipped out of his hand. A guard caught the crucifix before it hit the ground. The muscles of Becker’s head and neck swelled outward, as Father Cashin and Dr. Farr stood solemnly on rubber mat just feet away from the electric chair. The doctor stood quiet and grim, but Father Cashin’s lips moved precipitously in prayer.
The first shock lasted about a minute. Dr. Farr then stepped forward, ripped open Becker’s coat and tore open his shirt. Exposed for all to see was a picture of Helen Becker, pinned to the inside of Becker’s shirt and close to his heart. Dr. Farr applied his stethoscope to the middle of Becker’s chest.
Becker’s heart still beat strongly.
The executioner pulled the lever down a second time. This shock lasted only 10 seconds - five seconds longer than is usually required for a man’s second jolt. Dr. Farr moved forward again, this time removing Becker’s leather cap.
His second stethoscope examination revealed a slight heartbeat.
A third shock was administered; Becker’s body heaved forward and then fell limp. Dr. Farr made his third examination, and at exactly 5:55 a.m., he said in a loud voice, “I pronounce this man dead.�
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Immediately after Becker’s execution, the press assembled outside the execution room. Warden Osborne then proceeded to read a statement by Becker that Becker was not allowed to say in the execution room. It read.
Gentlemen: My dying declaration:
I stand before you in my full senses, knowing that no power on earth can save me from the grave that is about to receive me. In the face of that, in the teeth of those who condemn me, and in the presence of my God and your God, I proclaim my absolute innocence for the crime of which I must die. You are now about to witness my destruction by the State, which is organized to protect the lives of the innocent.
May Almighty God pardon everyone who has contributed in any degree to my untimely death. And now, on the brink of my grave, I declare to the world that I am proud to have been the husband of the noblest woman who has ever lived – Helen Becker. This acknowledgement is the only legacy I can leave her.
I bid you all goodbye; Father I am ready to go. Amen.
CHARLES BECKER
After Warden Osborne finished reading Becker’s dying declaration, Father Cashin was asked by the press, “From your experience with condemned men, isn’t it your belief that a condemned man always confesses in the hours before his execution?”