Mob Justice For Leo Frank

Calpuder got call. News of the gruesome discovery reached the police station about four o'clock Sunday morning, when the watchman called over the telephone. Quote, send the police to the National Pencil Factory right away. There's a dead girl down in the basement and she's been murdered unquote. Two policemen and a reporter jumped into the automobile of Boots Rogers, which stood at the front of the headquarters, and were rushed to the factory. The watchman stood at the Forsyth Street

entrance holding a lantern. He was trembling, his teeth chattering, and he was visibly excited. Quote she's down the basement. I'm scared to go. You all go first. I'll show you the way unquote. The building was dark and been deserted. The footsteps of the policemen echoed from floor to floor, creating an uncanny sound that sent chills down the spine. The watchman led the way to a small cubby hole near the entrance, just wide enough to

admit a human body, and through which a ladder projected. As the policemen pushed their way through the inky blackness, the night watchman chattered fearfully quote, look out, white folks, you'll step on her. Unquote. He was able to readily locate the position of the body. His wild and excited manner instantly roused suspicion. When the body was found, the limbs had not grown rigid, and the crimson mass over the wound in the head was still moist.

She had been placed in a corner of the basement, evidently with the intention of concealment, face downward. The form, partly covered by saldust and shavings, was barely discernible from a distance. In the meager light shed by the lantern, the body was hidden completely from view. The night watchman and custody of a uniformed officer and under arrest, was carried to the office on

the third floor. A thorough search was made of the basement. Two notes were found, One lay within three feet of the corpse, the other some distance away. Both were plainly in view and lay upon the sawdust flooring. A man's handkerchief crimson with blood but with no identifying marks, was discovered near the first note. The victim's handkerchief was found in the trash pile forty feet away from the spot where lay the body. The hat and parasol were hidden

in the pit of the elevator shaft. No marks of identification were found upon the dead girl. Her mesh bag, containing a few dollars in change, was missing and has not yet been found. A plain gold bracelet adorned her left wrist. It was splotched with blood and was bent and battered. A girl's signet ring engraved with the lone letter W was upon the little finger of the right hand. The problem of identifying the slain girl confronted the police.

Rogers, in whose car they were rushed to the scene, volunteered to go for miss Grace Hicks, an employee of the pencil factory, with whom he was acquainted, and to bring her to the place and hope that she might recognize the body. Miss Hicks was found at her home. She got out of bed at six o'clock, dressed, and came with Rogers to town. Instantly she viewed the corpse. Instantly she viewed the corpse. She swooned. Upon being rev she said, she is Mary Fagin. She and I have

been working at the same machine. She was the best girl I ever knew, and a pure child never lived. True crime historian presents yesterday's news tales of classic scandals, scoundrels, and scourges told from historic newspapers in the golden age of yellow journalism. Episode one hundred and eighty three tells of one of the most famous cases of an innocent man wrongly accused. When a teenage factory

girl is found dead in the basement of an Atlanta pencil manufacturer. The blame falls onto the mild manner Jewish superintendent of the plant, and the jury takes the word of a drunken janitor. It'll take seventy years for the truth to come out. I'm true crime historian Richard O. Jones, and I give you mob justice for Leo Frank The murder of Mary Fagan, Atlanta, Georgia,

April twenty eighth, nineteen thirteen. While her mother and father anxiously awaited her return home Saturday night, pretty fourteen year old Mary Fagan lay dead in a corner of the dark basement of the National Pencil Factory at thirty seven thirty nine South Forsyth Street, the victim of an atrocious murder following a brutal criminal assault. Her skull crushed and her neck horribly bruised where she had been choked

to death. The body was found at four o'clock Sunday morning, several hours after the crime had been committed, and was unidentified until the arrival of a girl worker. Two suspects are under arrest. One is Arthur Mullenax, formerly a street car conductor. The other is Newt Lee, night watchman of the factory building, who found the body and notified police headquarters. He stoutly maintains innocence. Detectives believe he was implicated in the crime. A confession from him

is expected to lead to the girl slayer or slayers. She was an employee in the pencil factory, but had resigned last Thursday. She was the daughter of missus J. W. Coleman, one forty six Lindsay Street. Her mother was prostrated with grief Sunday morning, and although physicians worked over her throughout the day, her condition was precarious. Last night. Two notes were found near the body. Although they purport to have been written by the dead girl,

the handwriting has not been recognized as hers. It resembles, however, that of the imprisoned night watchman. The theory of detectives is that Both were written to mislead the police. One note was penciled on an order blank of the factory. It read quote that negro higher down here did this. He pushed me down that hole. A long tall negro black that did it worked, long, lean, tall Negro. I write to people with me.

It was coherent and hardly legible. The second was written on ordinary tablet paper. It read quote he said he would love me unquote. The rest of the note fails to make sense. Neither note was signed. The pretty victim was first choked into insensibility, then beaten upon the head with a blunt instrument. She was horribly bruised and lacerated upon the face. Both eyes were blackened and swollen. The hands and fingers were distorted, showing the agony in which

she had died. She was attired in a fresh summer frock of pink, trimmed in lace, and wore silk stockings. A big bow of baby ribbon was caught in the single strand of hair arranged girlish fashioned down her back. The clothing was torn and bloody. Her pink parasol was found near the trap door through which the body had been lowered. A missing shoe and a bloody

handkerchief were found in a trash pile near the boiler in the basement. Following an investigation by members of the coroner's staff, the body was removed to the Bloomfield Undertaking establishment on South Pryor Street. Detectives are searching for a trio of men said to have been seen with Miss Fagan Saturday night, about ten o'clock e s. Skipper said that he had seen a girl answering in the exact description of the victim, walking up Pryor Street with three men, apparently youths.

She was reeling slightly, as though affected by drugs or narcotics, and was weeping at the intersection of Trinity Avenue. She attempted to continue up Pryor Street in the direction of Garnett, but was caught by one of her companions, who turned her steps toward Whitehall Street on Trinity Avenue. Skipper's attention was attracted by the girl's tears and unwillingness to accompany the men. She strove to resist them, he said, but appeared feeble. She did not seem intoxicated,

he said, but sick and weak. The watchman was brought to the basement. His story was to the effect that he entered through the cubby hole at three fifteen o'clock on an hourly round. Usually, he said, he went into the basement, but seldom at the time the body was discovered. He did not intend to go through the place, but only half way, going into a toilet, which is situated some twenty feet from the recess in which the body was discovered. He says he remained therein for several minutes,

leaving his lantern sitting outside. Upon emerging, he declares, the light fell upon the partly hidden form of the dead girl. Elevating his lantern, the man peered more closely at the object. Gradually he discerned in the dim, weird light, the outlines of a human form. Thinking someone was trying to play and prank on him, he advanced upon the body, still suspecting a joke. He reached down and caught an arm in his hand, who was

limp inhuman. He screamed and fled for the latter leading to the first floor. He declared he had heard no screams at any time of the night, and that no one of his knowledge had entered the building since the closing hour. He stated further that he had made hourly inspections of the building. Lee is a middle aged black man, thick lipped and hazy eyed. All during the day he was nervous and irritable. He is married and had been at

work with the pencil factory for only three weeks. The charge against him at police headquarters is suspicion, under which he will be detained until the mystery is cleared. He was forced to show his discovery in panamime. All lights were cut out in the basement, The single entrance to the rear was shut tight,

and the only illumination was the lantern he carried. At the time, a detective was stretched upon the spot where the body was found, while a small assemblage of detectives, police officials and reporters stood about the basement and hushed groups. The night watchman alone descended the ladder from his cubby hole, swinging

his lantern. His step was faulty and he missed a lower rung. Slowly and deliberately, he walked to the closet, sitting the lantern outside the small enclosure he entered, Emerging quickly, the rays of light barely fell upon the form of the detective lying in the sawdust. It was barely distinguishable. The watchman picked up the light held at aloft and peered at the prostrate sleuth,

and exactly the manner he had previously described. With wavering step, he advanced upon the spot, caught the detective's wrist in a tremulous hand and said, quote there now, why, folks, that's exactly how it happened. Unquote. The belief of detectives is that the girl was drugged before being carried into the factory. Before returning home as she intended, they believe she met with one or more acquaintances, presumably men acquainted with the pencil plant. She was

enticed away. It is advanced, drugged, as is shown by Skipper's story, and led in the direction of Forsyth Street. It has suggested that she was lured into the building from the Forsyth Street entrance. The deed apparently was committed either upon the first or second floor. No blood or marks of a scuffle can be found, however, on either. When the girl resisted the efforts of her captors, she was choked into submission. The garrote with which

she was choked were two strips torn from her underclothing and knotted together. She was a strong girl in an undoubtedly fought tigerishly. Doctor John W. Hurt, who performed the examination upon the body, asserted his opinion that it was a task for more than one man to overpower her, which to a degree substantiates the theory that there were more than one connected with the crime. Criminal assault was committed upon the victim, such as the opinion of detectives and medical

experts, the deed committed, according to the theory of the police. The fiends, anxious to seal their victim's lips forever, choked her to death, made sure she was dead by a blow of the head, then secreted her corpse in the cellar. The body was lowered through the hole by a rope found looped around the girl's neck. This also was a task for more than one man. Her weight was estimated at one hundred and fifty pounds or more. The form was dragged a distance of one hundred feet from the latter to

the recess upon on the face. The trail was made in sawdust, showing the path made by the body. The rear door leading to an alleyway to which entrance is gained from West Hunter Street was forced open. The staple holding the lock was prized off. The murders, upon ridding themselves of the body, were too frightened to return upstairs and to emerge from the factory through the Forsyth Street entrance. Instead, they fled through the safer exit in the rear

of the building. The mystery is baffling. Chief Beavers, in a talk to each of the three police watches, instructed every man of his uniform department to lend his every effort in running down Miss Fagin's slayers. A small army of detectives have been assigned to the case. Never before has such a dastardly crime stirred this city. All day Sunday, one thousands flocked to the undertaking establishment to view the dead girl. In every respect, it is one of

the most horrible crimes of local police record. April twenty ninth, nineteen thirteen. Despite the fact that four suspects in the Mary Fagan case are held at police station, the detective department is not satisfied and the city is being scoured

for evidence that will lead to the arrest of the guilty party. Last night, the Pickerton Detective Department was engaged by Leo M. Frank, president of the National Pencil Company, to aid the local officers in the search for the man responsible for the brutal murder committed Sunday morning and the plant of his company on Forsyth Street. All day Monday, detectives worked diligently for evidence which would throw light upon the mysterious killing, and when night came, they were baffled.

The most careful investigation failed to show that anyone had seen the girl since she left the factory where she drew her pay Saturday afternoon. Several people said that they thought they had seen her, but none were positive. All the evidence, too proved the good character of the victim. Members of her family, neighbors, and her fellow workers united in paying tribute to her good qualities, desperately striving to force the confession that he is the murderer of Mary Fagan.

Third degree Experts of police headquarters labored until midnight Monday with John M. Gant, the young bookkeeper arrested in Marietta yesterday afternoon on the direct charge of murder. He stoutly protests his innocence, quote, I was at home Saturday night by ten o'clock in bed and asleep. Unquote. Mary Perk, a girl and employee of the pencil factory, said Monday that she had often heard

gossip concerning Gant's infatuation for the Fagan girl. The watchman told detectives that Gant had remained in the factory building twenty or thirty minutes Saturday night while searching for the shoes. Lee said he had gone to the office on the second floor and talked over the telephone in low tones with a girl or a woman. The conversation was a lengthy one, the watchman declares. Another phase was added to the tragedy when a sleeping couch was discovered in the basement which the girl's

mutilated body was found. It is an improvised couch constructed of boxes and covered with a number of cracker and towsacs. Recent tracks of a woman's shoe were found nearby in the sawdust flooring. The murder evidently occurred upon the first or second floors. Strands of bloody hair of a shade comparing with the hair of the dead girl, were found on a lathe machine on the second floor.

The instrument was also splotched with crimson. Because of the intense feeling and excitement naturally prevailing among the hundreds of female employees of the plant, The management Monday morning deemed it prudent to shut down for the day. The doors were closed and a policeman stationed at both the Forsyth and Hunter Street entrances until dusk. Large crowds of the morbidly curious flocked around the place, discussing the murder and

seeking entrance to the basement in which the corpse was discovered. The only persons allowed in the basement, however, were those who accompanied the coroner's jury on its tour of investigation. Early Monday morning, Coroner Donaho, after impaneling a jury, postponed the hearing until detectives were able to gather more definite evidence. Missus Coleman, mother of the slang girl, although not entirely recovered from the shock of Sunday, as much improved Monday, she was feeble and had to

be confined to her home. Pleading with her husband to escort her to the undertaking establishment of viewer daughter's corpse, she insisted that she be carried there. Her physician would not permit. It is thought, however, that she will be able to attend the funeral today. Throughout Sunday and Monday, neighborhood friends of the bereaved families flocked to the modest little home on Lindsay Street, consoling

the parents and brothers and sisters of the dead girl. For a time Sunday afternoon and early that night, fears were felt for the safety of the watchmen suspected of complicity in the crime. Reports that a mob of white men was being formed caused Chief Beavers to hold a reserve of a half hundred mounted policeman

in headquarters until late at night. The only trouble encountered, however, was by Chief Landford Detective Starns in black boots, rogers dry of the automobile in which the sleuths visited the factory, and a reporter who accompanied the party. It occurred shortly after daybreak. A large crowd of men and boys were drawn to the pencil factory. The man was being taken from headquarters to the scene of the crime. When he came from the building was placed in an automobile.

Threatening remarks came from the crowd that thronged around the machine. He ought to be lynched, said a heavy set man who edged close to the rear seat in which sat the detective chief in the prisoner. Yes, said another, and I'd help do it. The engines were running, Starns and Black had not climbed into the machine. Landford called to Rogers to hurry away.

Without waiting for the two detectives or the reporter. The machine rushed down Forsyth Street, equipped with evidence indicating that Mary Fagan was the victim of a white slavery plot that was foiled only by her brutal murder. Detectives have turned their

investigation to an entirely new phase of the baffling mystery. Police headquarters has been informed of a garishly attired woman seen shortly before midnight Saturday, in company with two youths and a reeling, weeping girl answering the dead girl's description convincingly. They were seen at Alabama and Forsyth Streets, only a short distance from the building in which Mary Fagin was murdered. The girl was sobbing and was being

led by the mysterious woman. The two youths followed close behind, murmuring coaxing words in her ear. The woman was saying, come along now, dearie, don't create a scene. You're attracting the cops. The girl was sobbing. I don't care, I don't care. The strange quartet turned down Forsyth Street in the direction of the Pencil Factory. They disappeared in the darkness of

the plant building. April thirtieth, nineteen thirteen. Sitting alone in the detective's office at headquarters, Leo Frank, the factory president, and Lee the night watchman, conferred for an hour shortly before midnight. The conference was made at the request of detectives. It was believed Frank would be able to wring a confession from the night watchman. At midnight, he returned from the room quote, I can't get a thing out of him. He tells the same story

over and over unquote. Detectives Harry K. Scott and John Black emerge tired and sweating from a grueling third degree of three hours to which Leo M. Frank and the night watchmen were subjected yesterday afternoon, and made an announcement to reporters. Quote, we have sufficient evidence to convict the murderers of Mary Fagan. More arrests will be made before daybreak. The mystery is cleared. Unquote. Neither of the detectives would give names. Chief Lanford said, however,

that the crime lay between the night watchmen and the factory president. Chief Beavers would not commit himself. Quote, I am satisfied with the progress we have made unquote, were his only words. Rank firmly denies guilt. He expresses confidence that he will be released this afternoon. Quote. I'll admit that I was alone in the building from four o'clock until six. I was working on the office books and reports, though no one else was in the place.

That's positive, I'll swear it. I would hardly have recognized Mary Fagan had we met on the street. Unquote. His chief defense, he Avers will be his alibis to prove his whereabouts during the hours of Saturday and Sunday morning, except the space of time between four and six thirty o'clock. Quote. I was with two of the plant's mechanics until four o'clock. They left at that time. The Negro watchman Lee showed up. Just about four o'clock.

I had prepared to go to the ballgame. It was cold and dreary and looked like rain. I had a lot of work to do in the office. It needed me more than the ballgame, so I decided to remain at the factory. Saturday afternoon was half holiday. When the watchman showed up, there was no need for him around the place while I was there. He deserved holiday too. I told him, you can go out and knock around until six o'clock. At six o'clock he reappeared. Dance showed up about that

time, hunting his shoes. I gave him permission to go into the building and referred him to the night watchman. At six thirty o'clock. I went directly home and remained there until I heard the discovery of Miss Fagin's body. Detective Starns called me over the telephone about six a m. He came out for me in an automobile. I went immediately to the factory. Unquote Frank's first act after viewing the corpse was to nail up the door which had been

broken open in the basement, presumably by the girl's slayers. Quote. I am not guilty. Such an atrocious crime has never entered my mind. I am a man of good character, and I have a wife. I'm a home loving and god fearing man. They will discover that it is useless to detain me unless for investigation than for information I might be able to give. Unquote. He was twenty nine years old and had been married to an Atlanta

girl of his own Jewish faith about two years. He was born in Texas, but his parents moved to Brooklyn, New York, when Frank was but a few months old. He is graduate of Cornell. His father had been a traveling salesman. Frank was a small stockholder in the pencil concern. It had been his habit to go to the factory on holidays to catch up with his office work. So far as he knew, he was alone in the factory at the time of Mary Fagan's arrival, except for two workmen who were

doing some work on the fourth floor. Frank stated that he was not surprised when the detectives came to arrest him Tuesday afternoon. Quote. I had been expecting it. I knew I would possibly be able to render information that would lead to the real murderers. He was taken into custody shortly before noon. Detective Starns and Black found him in the offices of the pencil plant. He willingly submitted and was rushed to the headquarters in the automobile of Chief Beavers immediately

upon arriving there. He was locked in the office of Chief Landford with Pinkerton Detective Scott Landford, Chief Beavers and other police experts for three hours. He was grilled and questioned. The watchman was interrogated at the same time and in the presence of Frank. Frank is a small, wiry man, wearing eyeglasses of high lens power. He is nervous and apparently high strung. He smokes incessantly and stuffed a pocket with cigars upon leaving for police headquarters at the arrest.

His dress is neat and he is a fluent talker, polite and suave. The doors had been locked behind him during the third degree no more than thirty minutes when Attorney Luther Rosser, Council retained by the Factory President, appeared at police station. As he started to climb the steps leading from the second floor to the detective's quarters in the third story, he was checked by Policeman John W. West, who had been stationed at that point with orders to

admit no one upstairs. The attorney was told you can't go up there. Mister Rosser replied, I will go. I want to see mister Frank. He was told, you'll have to get permission from the chief. I've orders to admit no one. The lawyer left in an angry state. Within a few minutes, he communicated with Chief Beavers over telephone. The chief assured him that he would be admitted to the building and even to the room in which

his client was being interrogated. When mister Rosser later came into the presence of Frank's questioners, a stormy scene ensued between him and Chief Beavers. Sounds of hot words came through the closed door and attracted a large crowd of detectives and reporters. The lawyer was heard to say, quote, I've got my opinion of how a chief of police should conduct himself. I had a perfect right to be admitted by that policeman downstairs, the right as a citizen and as

a lawyer. He told me he had orders to keep me down here. He even called my name. Said the chief, I've got my opinion too, of how a police department should be run. I did not give instructions to keep you from this office. I ordered that the crowd be kept away. The lawyer retorted, I wasn't crowded. Was I. Soon the argument was over and better feeling prevailed. During the course of the questioning, Detective Scott, who was an operative of the Pinkertons, began interrogating Frank. The

Pinkertons were employed on the murder Monday night by the National Pencil Company. Through the suspected present. Frank turned upon the Pinkerton man, you're acting mighty funny. You were hired by me, if you remember, why should you ask me such questions? He answered, quote, I was put on the case by my superiors. They were employed to catch the murderer. That's what I was instructed to do. If you are the murderer, then it's my duty

to convict you unquote. At the close of the third degree, Frank was nervous and plainly agitated. He clung to the arm of friends as they ascended the three flights of steps to the prison. A charge of suspicion was entered against him. He first was locked in a cell. Later a guard was placed over him and he was removed to the detective's quarters. While her husband was being sweated by the detectives. Missus Frank, the beautiful young wife of

the factory president, tearful and anxious came to police headquarters. She was accompanied by friends. Denied admission to the floor on which her husband sat, She was led, weeping bitterly, into the probation officer's room. She did not remain long. She left before the third degree was finished, and never returned. Frank was unaware of her presence at the police station. She had been notified of his arrest by friends, who summoned her over telephone. Detectives predicted

the collapse of the watchman throughout the day. He plainly showed the effect of two days of terror experienced in one continuous round of interrogation. His nerves were shattered. He trembled fearfully and apparently verged on her breakdown. It is said that the arrest of Frank resulted from evidence dropped by the watchman. At four a m. He was awakened in a cell and questioned grillingly by Detective Black

from then on the day was one of incessant interrogation. Specimens of the man Ann's handwriting, according to microscopic examinations of handwriting experts, compare favorably with that of the notes found beside the victim's body. Chief Lanford said Monday night, that he had abandoned the theory that Gant was implicated in the crime. He was merely a victim of circumstantial evidence, and he is believed to be entirely

guiltless. May thirtieth, nineteen thirteen, in a grueling three hour third degree at police headquarters, James Conley, the pencil factory sweeper, said that he wrote the murder notes at Leo Frank's dictation at one o'clock on the Saturday of Mary Fagan's disappearance, in an effort to confront the suspected pencil plant superintendent with

this acknowledgment. Chief b V Chief Landford and Harry Scott of the Pinkertons took the sweeper to the tower at eight o'clock, where they tried to gain admission to Frank's cell. Sheriff Mangum refused entrance unless permitted by Frank. When word came to him that the police chiefs and the Pinkerton man desired to confront him with Conley, the prisoner positively refused them an audience, declaring he would have

to first consult his counsel, attorney Luther Rosser. Conley is said to have minutely described the movements of himself and Frank as they packed the mutilated form from the office floor of the building down into the dark cellar, where it was left in the desolate recess in which it was discovered the following morning, saying he had found the girl stone dead when he entered the building at one fifteen o'clock with the suspected Superintendent, Conley is declared to have admitted that he and

Frank proceeded immediately to remove the corpse violently and with utmost precaution to its hiding place in the basement. Through fear, He states he did not ask his employer how the little girl met her death. He is said to have told the police that he asked no questions, carried out Frank's instructions to the letter, and departed directly after he emerged from the gruesome trip into the basement. The girl's body was found crumpled in a heap, gashed and distorted, secreted

on the second floor. He is said to have confessed during the examination. When he arrived with Frank in the building, Frank said but few words, the man is averred to have told, but helped to carry the corpse to

its place of discovery beneath the factory. July twenty eighth, nineteen thirteen, with a swiftness which was gratifying to counsel for the Defense, the Solicitor General, and a large crowd of interested spectators, the trial of Leo M. Frank, charged with the murder of Mary Fagin on April twenty sixth has gotten under way. The first day's proceedings proved singularly free of the dramatic element or

the unexpected and testimony. There were touches of the pathetic, as for example, when missus J. W. Coleman, mother of the dead child, broke down and cried bitterly when she viewed the clothing of her little daughter.

And there were touches of humor when the little EPs boy, who had ridden to town with Mary Fagan on the day of her murder, explained to Luther Rosser his method of telling the time of day by the sun, and of Newt Lee, who amused the courtroom by his quaint illusions and his descriptions of a tiny light in the basement of the pencil face, which he likened to the gleam of a lightning bug, and of his quick retort when mister Rosser purposely spoke of this insect as a junebug, I didn't say junebug, I

said lightning bug contradicted Newt. When the hour of nine o'clock arrived, Pryor Street in front of the temporary courthouse building was cluttered with the usual mob of the morbidly curious. They hugged the hot walls of the buildings like lethargic leeches, vainly trying to gain admission to the building, or buzzed about like bees gossipling idly of the caves. Perfect order was not maintained, however, and

few not directly interested in the trial were allowed to enter the courtroom. All day long, the crowd remained on the sidewalks, gazing intently at the windows to the courtroom, spewing tobacco juice on the street, eagerly questioning every person who left the building. Interest naturally centered on the appearance in court of Leo M. Frank, the accused. If Frank has chafed under his confinement, his physical appearance belies the fact he looked as fit physically as he did the

day he was first arrested. He was dressed with scrupulous neatness and a gray suit of pronounced pattern, which was all the more conspicuous on account of his diminutive form. As he entered the courtroom, he smiled cordially at several friends. The first person to whom he spoke was a woman employee of the pencil factory. Next in interest was missus Leo M. Frank, wife of the accused, who up to this time had been seen little in public. Missus

Frank is an extremely attractive looking young woman. During progress of the trial, she kept her eyes constantly fixed on Solicitor Dorsey. Her gaze was one of calm estimate. It seemed to be attempting to fathom his thoughts and to divine

his purposes. Efforts to show Mary Fagin's attitude toward Leo M. Frank by the State, and efforts by the defense to show the dead girl's attitude toward Little George Epps, the fourteen year old Newsey who testified to riding downtown with her on the morning before she was found dead, were the first important things attempted yesterday, when the trial was formally opened. The case started promptly at nine o'clock, with the courtroom thronged with Veneerman and spectators, witnesses, and

lawyers and friends of the principles. Contrary to the persistent rumor that the defense would ask postponement and to their frequent objections to the trial in the heated term, the defense proved ready and willing to go to trial. Frank had been brought from the tower at six o'clock in the morning, and at seven o'clock had his breakfast brought to him by friends. He ate this in an ante

room, where he re until the time came for picking the jury. When he came into the courtroom, when Judge Roan called the court to order, all the seats were taken. It was a few minutes after ten o'clock, and when the Veneerman had been divided into nine panels and a number of them excused on various legal grounds, that Frank was led into the courtroom by a deputy who had stayed with him in the ante room. Frank looked quickly about

him as he came into the crowded room. He appeared as a person frequently is unable to take in all at once the scene in the crowded hall. There was a general stir about the room. As he entered, and he made out the straining faces and searching eyes. It seemed to dawn on him that he was the man for whom the crowd had gathered and at whom all

eyes were turned. A quizzical smile came over his face. His eyes were partly hidden by the thick and slightly darkened glasses he wore, but depression seemed to indicate that he was telling himself, it's my appearance that has brought this stir, and what can those people be thinking about me. It was the first time Frank had seen a crowd since he entered the jail on May eighth, and it was the first time he had been given an opportunity to look

on any but the faces of his close friends. The order of the courtroom was perfect, except for the slight stir. Frank went to a seat in front of the judges stand and near his lawyers. Several of his close friends who had been admitted within the rail crowded around and warmly grasped his hand. A moment later, his wife and mother, Missus Ray Frank, followed him

from the ante room and took seats on either side. Missus Frank is a beautiful woman, just past the bloom of girlhood, and whose face would cause a second look from any man. Neither Missus Frank the wife nor Missus Frank the mother showed by their looks the strain that the accusation upon their loved one

must have caused them. The entire morning session was taken up and choosing a jury, and general surprise was expressed that the twelve men in whose hands Frank's life now lies were selected from the one hundred and forty four veneermen, and within the time mentioned at one thirty the jury had been selected and sworn in, and Judge Roan, upon agreement from both sides, adjourned until three o'clock.

Frank was then taken to an ante room where his dinner was brought to him from his home, and where with his wife and mother, he calmly partook of the meal. It was at the afternoon session that Missus J. W. Coleman, mother of the murdered girl, was put on the stand by the state as the first witness. Missus Coleman was put on the stand holding herself perfectly composed. She was dressed in a black morning dress and wore a black hat and heavy veil. Which she threw back from her face.

The mother talked in a quiet, refined voice that was at times inaudible to lawyers and jurors. By her looks, the Fagin family is above the station in life from which comes children who toil in factories. She was asked a number of questions, and finally, on being shown the dead girl's clothes, broke completely down and sank back in her chair, sobbing, with her face

hidden by a large palm leaf fan. Deputy Miner quickly brought her a glass of water, and she slightly recovered, only to break down again when the defense began to cross examiner. During her mental suffering, Frank carefully kept his eyes away from her. Although he sat facing her in the jury, he

seemed either unable or unwilling to view the mother's grief. George Epps, the little newsboy who claims to have ridden to town on the street car with the Fagan girl and who is said to have declared that she told him of certain things she did not like about Frank, was next put up. He was followed by Newton Lee, the night watchman, whose telephone call to the police

station brought the officers to the scene. At the crime At three o'clock Sunday morning, April twenty seventh July twenty ninth, nineteen thirteen, Newton Lee, the night watchman of the pencil Factory, was again placed on the stand. When court convened, Attorney Luther Z. Rosser renewed his crossfire of questions, by which he sought to confuse the man and secure new admissions or change valuable points in his testimony, and thus expose a vulnerable point for a concentrated attack

upon his entire statement. The crowd was considerably larger than that of Monday, and during the afternoon session scores were standing. Frank maintained the outward calm of the day previous. At one time during Newt Lee's testimony, he laughed out

loud at some sally of Luther Rosser's. During the four hours and forty minutes that Newton Lee, although apparently so ignorant and dull that his interrogators had to put their questions in the simplest form and frequently repeat them, stuck literally word

for word to his statements before the coroner's jury and to officials. In one or two cases, he declared that certain portions of the stenographic report of the coroner's hearing was incorrect, and despite the grueling, in tantalizing crossfire of Luther Rosser, he hung out for what he declared to be the correct version of

the statement. Solicitor Dorsey stood before Detective Starns at the witness box and held to view a lavender frock with a bit of pink ribbon at each shoulder, and the hand that was lowered at his side he held a wee slipper. A moist eyed woman gray beginning to fleck her hair and betray her fifty years, looked sadly upon the articles in the solicitor's hands. Her daughter beside her strove bravely to check her tears, but bowed her head in a sobbing fit.

She could not restrain. They were Missus J. W. Coleman, Mary Fagin's mother, and Mary's sister, Ollie. Ollie could not remain in the courtroom, and her mother lowered her head in tears as the lawyer displayed peace by peace every article of the slain child's garments. The solicitor held each bid of the girl's apparel in view of the entire courtroom for identification from the

witness as Starnes, would signify that he recognized the articles before him. The solicitor would say, quote this as such and such an article identified as having been warned by Mary Fagin on the day of her death, is it admissible as evidence? Counsel for the defense would group their heads together at their table, nod consent, and Judge Roan upon the bench would say, admitted as evidence. It was a cruel proceeding, no doubt, thought the mother and

sister, but one made necessary by law. Many of the pieces they recognized, recalling with a tear the days they worked with needle and thread to fit Mary in the best their talents and home could afford. And Mary herself had been a competent seamstress. She had always been making something, and whether it was doll clothing or her own dresses, she was always proud of it.

There the lawyer held in his hand the pink frock which had gladdened the little girl's heart, and which she had intended wearing to Marietta the next monday. He had one of her shoes, the pair she herself had selected and contributed a dollar of her wages toward the purchase, and was waiting to display. When the dress was admitted, missus Coleman was crying softly. What mother who had lost a loving daughter could have held back her tears. It was the

first time she had ever been in a courtroom. She had always striven to avoid them. People stared at them all the while. The mother and daughter sat conspicuously, as the only seats they could find were two selected for them on the rostrum. Everywhere they looked, eyes would be focused upon them. But even the gaze of the morbid, the sensation seeking the auditor, whom you will find at every tragedy, melted into a warming look of sympathy as

his eyes met those of the sorrowing mother and sister. They were garbled and black, black from head to foot, with no relief. Heavy dark veils fell over their faces, and they lifted them only to dab a handkerchief to filling eyes. Missus Coleman had said to reporters, and so had Ali, that they would not be at the trial, where they not subpoenaed as witnesses.

It is as hard for them to bear as the tragedy itself. For every phase of the proceedings brings memory of that bleak and unforgettable day when the little girl next door ran over at daybreak and said, to the home folks of Mary's, Oh, Missus Coleman, Mary's been killed at the pencil factory Monday morning. Missus Coleman was the first witness called to the stand. She walked weakly and had to be assisted into the box. She whispered her replies

and choked back the catches in her throat. When the solicitor held the clothing of Mary before her eyes and asked her if they had been warned by the child, she tried to answer, a sob was in her throat and a tear welled up in her eye. She drew the handkerchief to her face and broke into weeping. The solicitor, as though his task were fully as distasteful as it looked, dropped the garments to the table and began new questions.

Even Attorney Rosser, whose cross questioning is feared by the strongest witnesses, put his questions to the sobbing mother in a tone in which his sympathy was most evident. He asked barely a dozen questions, and then said, you may come down, Missus Coleman, without giving the state a chance for examination and rebuttal knowing that even such relentless thing is the state would not wish to further

persecute the bereaved parent. August fourth, nineteen thirteen, the long looked for sensation in the Leo M. Frank trial came when Jim Conley, the sweeper formerly employed at the National Pencil Factory, took the stand and told a revolting as well as dramatic story of what he claims to know of the murder of little Mary Fagin. Hellowing the telling of this story, Conley was placed under

cross examination by Luther Rosser for five and a half hours. The able attorney for the defense wheedled, and coaxed and cajoled and used every tactic known to the legal profession to break down the fabric of the story and to tear the tale to tatters. He succeeded in confusing the witness as to minor details, only he failed to shake the foundation of the main story, which was that on Saturday, April twenty fifth, Leo M. Frankett asked him to look

out for him while he chatted with a young woman. That later, frank had called to him and told him that the girl had refused him, and that he had struck her. He then described seeing the body of the girl lying on the floor near her machine, with a cord and a piece of cloth around her neck. She was dead. He recited that Frank Frank had asked him to help him dispose of the body, and that he had taken it to the basement. He told of writing the notes which were given to

Frank and which were later found near the body. These things he told in a fashion so rapid it was difficult for the stenographers to follow him. During the recital, he was as calm and composed as it was possible for a human being to be. When the cord, which was found around the little girl's throat was handed him, he placed it around his own neck to illustrate how it was tied, and as he did so, his hands were as steady as if he were tying a scarf. The story was one of the

most remarkable that has ever been recited in the State of Georgia. On it, the case of the State will Stand or Fall. Explaining how he happened to be at the factory on Saturday, he said that he had been asked to look out for Frank while he was engaged with a young girl. This was no uncommon thing for him to do. He said. On several occasions Frank had asked him to watch out for him to see that no one entered the building, he said. He told of one occasion when he surprised Frank

and a woman in a compromising attitude. According to this statement, the woman was seated in a chair and Frank was kneeling on the floor. On one occasion, he says, Frank and another man were alone in the building with two women, and he stood guard for them. A significant feature was brought out by the state in regard to the writing of the notes which approved so baffling to the detectives. The state attempted to show that Frank new Conley could

write. This was objected to by the defense, said, mister Dorsey, quote, your honor, we expect to show that while the detectives were having new Lee Wright and getting specimens of Frank writing, Frank knew that Conley could write, but never once informed the authorities of the fact. During the cross examination, Conley admitted having been in jail seven or eight times. He could not tell how often. Conley's statement on the stand Monday differed in many essentials

from the three affidavits he had made. He admitted, quite frankly, that he had lied in some of the statements made in them, but he said that all three contained elements of truth. At the conclusion of Monday's proceedings, mister Arnold asked that Conley be taken in charge by the sheriff and placed in the tower where no one could see him or talk to him. William Smith, his attorney, asked that he be allowed to send him food. Judge Roane ordered that this be done, and he was removed to the jail in

Chief Beavers's automobile. Just as he was leaving the courtroom, he asked a reporter for some cigarettes. He was not nervous and apparently in good condition. August fifth, nineteen thirteen, twelve and one half hours under the merciless cross examination of Luther Rosser, whom no lawyer at the Atlanta Bar has more terrors for the average witness, twelve and one half hours saying I don't remember and no, Sir, I didn't say that, or simply affirming blandly that he

had lied on a previous occasion. Twelve and one half hours staring fixedly on a crowded courtroom twelve and one half hours, without the solace of a cigarette, twelve and one half hours, during which time the perspiration or sweat, if you like that word better, failed to dot his brow. That is the record of Jim Conley, former sweeper at the National Pencil Factory. No

such record has ever been made in a criminal case in this county. On Monday, Conley was on the stand five hours and a half and the able attorneys for the defense failed to break him down, failed to rattle him. Today, after a good night's sleep at the tower, Conley resumed the stand and Luther Rosser questioned him for seven hours. Still he did not shake him. Conley may be telling the truth in the main, or he may be lying all together. He may be the real murderer, or he may have

been the accomplice after the fact. Be these things as they may. He is one of the most remarkable men who has ever been seen in this section of the country. His nerve seems unshakable, his wit is ever ready. The lawyer had reached that point in his crossfire of questions where he had begun to hector the witness and to take him up whenever he made a mistake, but it appeared he was only about half through with his work when an adjournment

was taken. Conley was still sticking to the main points of his story in a way that was considered remarkable, although he had admitted discrepancies in many of the minor points and had grown confused over them. When Attorney Rosser started out Monday, his manner was mild, but only throughout the afternoon. He worked up to a slightly harsher manner. When he began today, he was using

his usual rather abrupt tone of voice. Solicitor Hugh Dorsey and Frank A. Hooper, his colleague, made frequent objections to the manner in which the cross examination was being conducted, and dead to a certain extent, restrain the defense. August sixth, nineteen thirteen, Jim Conley, after remaining on the stand

sixteen hours, was allowed to leave the courtroom at eleven o'clock. He stated that he was feeling fine and his appearance would not seem to indicate that he was fatigued in the least by the long ordeal through which he had passed. The defense had failed utterly to shake him on any material point in his story. The big thing developed by his examination today was the statement that he had seen Frank place Mary Fagin's silver mesh bag in the safe in his office.

Up to this time, what had become of the mesh bag was a mystery. Jim Conley had not mentioned and anything about it before, and it had been thought that the finding of the purse would go largely towards solving the mystery

of the murder. Newt Lee's house had been searched for it, and Conley's home had been ransacked in Vain. Following Conley's departure from the stand, the jury was allowed a five minute recess, and on their return Solicitor Dorsey tendered in evidence a picture of the pencil factory basement taken on the morning the body was found. He also tendered a scratch pad sample of one of those around the factory, the murder notes and the pad found near the body. August

nineteenth, nineteen thirteen. Some newspaperman has called me the silent man in the tower. Gentlemen, this is the time, and here is the place. I have told you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Thus did Leo M. Frank dramatically conclude his remarkable statement of nearly four hours, during which time he was, in turn explicit as to detail

of his doings on the day of the murder. Argumentative when explaining some point which had looked dark for him, tender when referring to his wife and his home life, bitter when he told of the treatment he had received at the hands of the detective department. It was, in all essential details the most

remarkable statement which has ever been delivered in a courtroom in the South. Through the four hours that he was talking, there was not the slightest trace of nervousness, not a tremor of the hands, even when conveying a glass of water to his lips. He was perfectly poised, convincingly clear in his statements, the man unafraid. When he concluded, a hush fell over the courtroom. His wife and mother, who had been hanging on his every word,

fell forward on his neck, and the pent up tears flowed freely. The statement carried the ring of truth in every sentence, and scores in the room whose minds had not been made up left the room convinced of the man's innocence. Shortly before court convened for the afternoon session. Frank was chatting with his wife and some friends in the ante room. He had just had his throat

treated for an extremely bad cold, which he contracted some days ago. With this exception, he stated to a newspaperman that he was feeling fine, that he felt no nervousness, and that he expected to be on the stand fully three hours. Shortly after two o'clock, Frank took the stand. The courtroom was packed scores of friends who have stood by him in his dark days of confinement. Clustered near his devoted mother and his face faithful wife. Her sisters

and cousins sat where they could see him clearly. He began his statement with a swift account of his life, and then hurried forward to the events of the fatal day when Mary Fagan entered the office of the National Pencil Company for the last time. He told in detail of his movements and activities that day. From time to time, he referred to the financial statement into various papers on which he says he worked that day. These papers he went over carefully,

item by item, figure by figure. He stood facing the jury and talked to them very much as if he were addressing a board of directors before whom he was presenting some proposition demanding explanation. For some two hours, he dwelt on the technical details of the factory to show just how much time it would have taken him to make up the financial statement, and he explained in

minute fashion the source from which each item was derived. He told of little Mary Fagan entering his office to receive her pay, and of her going out and then returning to inquire if the medal had come. As she left for the last time, he spoke of having heard what he thought was a woman's voice, but of this he said he could not be positive. He visualized for the jury his work of the afternoon and of his trip to and from home, of how he spent Saturday evening, of the early morning ride to

the undertaking establishment, and of his alleged nervousness. He said, quote, A good deal has been said of my nervousness that morning. I admit it. I was nervous. Think of it, gentlemen. I was awakened at an early hour, rushed down town in an automobile going at top speed. I had had no breakfast. I witnessed this poor child, this young girl in the first flush of womanhood, dead and mutilated. Gentlemen, the sight was enough to make any man nervous. It would have touched any man not

made of stone unquote. Frank then told of his visit to the Detective Department and of his second visit to the Undertaking Establishment that afternoon. Of his experience with the Atlanta Detective Department, he spoke with a trace of bitterness. He described the manner in which he says John Black administered the third degree to Newt Lee. He said, the manner in which he shrieked and cursed at the man was something awful. Of the criticism that he would not talk to detectives

or de conly, he said, quote. My experience with them showed me that they would put words in my mouth and distort what I really said until it became unrecognizable. At first I answered all questions gladly, but finally I decided to wash my hands of them. He told of a visit John Black and Harry Scott had paid him. Frank said, quoting Black, the Pinkertons are suspicious of that man Darley. Now open up and tell us what you know. I told them that Darley was the soul of honor, and thereupon

they left. In discuss Frank branded as a lie the statement that women had ever visited him. He denied that he had seen Conley on the day of the murder. He told of how he was the first man to prove that Conley could write. He said he had no rich relatives in Brooklyn, and denied there was any fund raised for his defense. The money for this purpose,

he said, was secured by mortgaging his parents property. He wound up with the dramatic statement quoted at the beginning of this article, and immediately was on his way back to the tower. Many character witnesses were called at the morning session, all of whom testified to Frank's good character. A large part of the forenoon was then taken up and enumerating the various exhibits which the defense

wanted to introduce. Missus Mattie Thompson, a woman over middle age and an employee of the factory, was among those put on the stand to testify to Leo Frank's character and also about the alleged flirting carried on by some of the

girls from the windows of the dressing rooms. She said that she did not know the names of any of them, and had never seen any of them in an act of carrying on a flirtation, but that had been talked of in the factory, and she and some of the other elderly ladies had reported it to mister Darley, assistant superintendent. She said Frank's character was good.

On cross examination, mister Dorisey drew from her statement that she had been talked to by Attorney Hubert Hass, assisting in the Frank defense, just a short

while before she took the stand. Frank told a reporter that the four hour statement which he delivered on the stand had been repared two weeks before the trial, that every line of the statement as originally prepared, had been dictated to his wife, who is an expert stenographer, and that he had adhered to the text of the original, closely interpolating some few passages which had been suggested by points brought out during the progress of the trial. Quote, neither mister

Arnold nor mister Rosser ever saw the statement. Neither helped me with one word of it. The conclusion of the statement was extemporaneous and came to me while I was on the stand. Unquote, Frank never once referred to a note. During the time he was delivering the statement. The only papers he had in his hand at any time were the financial sheet, invoices, and other

papers referring to work at the factory. August twenty sixth, nineteen thirteen, Leo M. Frank, superintendent of the National Pencil Factory, President of the Benia Breath, graduate of Cornell University, student of literature, and until recently regarded as a man of unblemished character and reputation and a leader among his people, has been declared guilty of the murder of Mary Fagin, a fourteen year

old employee of the factory of which Frank is the head. At four minutes to five o'clock, a jury of his peers filed slowly into the court room, which for four weeks has been the scene of the greatest legal battle in the history of the state. The room had been cleared of the morbidly curious, who for days have listened to the fierce fight for and against the young man. On the face of each juror was the drawn look of men who had been compelled through duty to do an awful thing, to consign a fellow

creature to the gallows. There was no mistaking that look. The strongest of the men shook, as if some strange ailment had stricken them. It took no student of human nature to read that the verdict was the ultimate one of guilt. A hush fell over the court room. The scraping of a chair across the floor, the rustle of a fan, the shuffling of a foot would have been welcome sounds. The silence was fearsome. Slowly, with voice that trembled, fred Winburne, foreman of the jury, read the verdict.

Immediately there was the hustle and bustle of reporters and strident voices calling out guilty over the telephones. The sound reached the street below, and a shout went up from the waiting mob outside. The end had come to the longest criminal trial on record in the state of Georgia. Frank was not in the court room. Over in the tower, oblivious of his fate, sat Leo M. Frank, his arm around his faithful wife. His presence in court had

been waved. When some three quarters of an hour later he learned the news, he bore up with fortitude to a friend. He said, my God, even the jury was influenced by mob law. I am as innocent as I was one year ago. His wife swooned away when she heard the awful news. While the jury was out nearly four hours, and each and every member was pledged to secrecy. It is definitely known that only one ballot was

taken and that the verdict was reached in a comparatively short time. When the crowd that filled the courtroom was driven out on the order of Judge Roan, it flowed to the streets to await the verdict, increasing in size as the minutes passed. A veritable honeycomb of humanity spread over the section from Whitehall to Central Avenue on Hunter Street, and from Alabama to Mitchell on Prior. Men and women clung to the walls of buildings, sat in doorways. Windows were

crowded with women and girls and children. It was as though a street audience had gathered to watch an eventful procession. The shrill orders of the mounted policemen arose over the hum of the crowd. A knot of men clustered around the press room, the windows of which front Hunter Street, just opposite the new courthouse building, as the reporters at the telephone shouted the verdict to their offices. The word came through the windows. It was received with a shout.

The cry of guilty took winged flight from lip to lip. It traveled like the rattle of musketry. Then came a combined shout that rose to the sky. Pandemonium. Rained hats went into the air. Women wept and shouted by turns as Solicitor Dorsey appeared in the doorway of the courthouse, while the crowd

yelled its reception of the frank verdict. There came a mighty roar, as expressed by one aged man, whose wrinkled face and empty sleeve proclaimed service in the days of civil strife, and who had stood in the mob to hear the verdict. Quote, it was kinder like Dixie ringing out in a place where you ain't known unquote. The solicitor reached no further than the sidewalk,

while mounted men rode like Cossacks through the human swarm. Three muscular men slung mister Dorsey over their shoulders and passed him over the heads of the crowd across the street to his office, with hat raised and tears coursing down his cheeks. The victor in George's most noted criminal battle was tumbled over a shrieking throng that wildly proclaimed its admiration. Few will live to see another such demonstration.

Mister Dorsey was carried in the elevator to his office, where he dropped limply in a seat, exhaust fusted, worn completely out by strain and exertion. Friends besieged him. The stairway leading to the floor on which his office is situated was lined with men and women. His only words were quote, I feel sorry for his wife and mother unquote. He had nothing to say about the outcome, about the bitter fight that had been waged, nothing about the

prospects of a new trial. His sympathy was for the two women who had been dealt a blow as mortal as the courts had dealt their son and husband. It will probably be tomorrow at the earliest before sentences passed upon Leo Frank, Judge Ron stated that he would give time for feeling to diminish before calling the convicted man to court. Missus J. W. Coleman, mother of Mary Fagin, said quote, I could not begin to tell you how glad

and relieved I feel now that it is all over. For weeks I have felt but I just could not sleep another wink for thinking of that man Frank

and the possibility that he might escape the consequences of his crime. I have felt satisfied all the time that he was guilty, and the verdict of the jury is no surprise to me. I have not been well for the past week, and my mother has also been sick, so you see, I could not attend all the sessions of the court, but I have gone as often as possible, and I have read every line regarding the progress of the trial published in the papers. I hope they will not be hard on that

conly Negro. Although he lied a great deal at first, he did turn round and tell the whole truth at last, and in my opinion, he should be let off with a light sentence. The only real regret I feel about the entire trial is that I was unable to attend court this afternoon and shake hands with each member of the jury and with Judge Ron. I will take the first opportunity of seeing every one of them and thinking them for the

patient careful consideration. They have shown everything connected with the trial in any way. June twenty second, nineteen fifteen Atlanta passed one of the most exciting days in her history Monday, following the announcement that the sentence of Leo M. Frank had been commuted by Governor John M. Slaton. Developments came thick and fast following the departure of Leo M. Frank to Millageville to begin serving a

life sentence there. The prisoner left Atlanta accompanied by Sheriff Magnum and a number of deputies at twelve oh one o'clock. The party reached Macon shortly before three o'clock, and there secured an automobile, and by five o'clock Frank was an inmate of the state prison farm at Millageville. Just after his arrival with Sheriff Ignim at four fifty five o'clock, Frank said to Warden Smith, quote,

I had begun to think I wouldn't get to see this place unquote. Both Frank and the sheriff appeared very nervous when they reached the prison, and the sheriff heaved a sigh of relief as he delivered his charge to the penitentiary officials. The strain of the trip down from Atlanta had told on both the sheriff remained here but a few minutes, returning to Macon and the automobile in which he had made the hurried trip out. Shortly after being admitted, reporters were

permitted to see him. His appearance spoke clearly the tremendous strain through which he had gone. Upon being asked whether he had anything to say, he said, in clear and composed language, quote, I am grateful beyond words to the Governor for the way he has disposed of the case. I felt confident all the while that it would turn out as it has. Somehow, I

just felt confident that I would not have. Of course, I am unsettled, as you see from the tremendous nerve wracking experience through which I've been drawn, especially during the last trying hours of this ordeal. No person can know what I have gone through, and I am not composed enough at this time to give you an intelligent and connected conversation. Just say that I feel more than I can express in words, and am happy that my life is saved.

Time will prove, as I have often told you, the fact of my absolute innocence of the murder with which I am charged. I felt in my heart all the time a secret assurance that I should not hang unquote, and with a firm look directly in the face of his interviewers, he paused briefly and added, quote, I am innocent unquote. Frank was first registered and then dressed in his suit of stripes, after which he was taken to the bunk room of the main building for a bit of rest before given his

breakfast. Strict orders were issued to permit no one to see him, except one specific order from the Prison Commission of Atlanta. Solicitor Hugh M. Dorsey, who prosecuted the case, averred that he considered Governor John M. Slayton disqualified to pass judgment on the Leo M. Frank case. He issued a statement denouncing the bestow of clemency and explaining why he had gone before the governor

to oppose Frank's plea for commutation. Quote. The action of government Slaton nullified the judgments of the state and federal courts and overriding the recommendation of the State

Board of Pardons was as surprising to me as it was unprecedented. No defendant within my recollection had had the benefit of more appeals to the judicial process, state and federal than Leo Frank. His guilt was conclusively established beyond a reasonable doubt to the satisfaction of an impartial jury of twelve reputable Georgians, and their verdict was approved by the trial judge and affirmed by the Supreme Court of Georgia.

Repeated efforts to have the judgment set aside have been denied by the state Supreme Court, the United States District Court, and the Supreme Court of the

United States. With the unbroken record of all available courts declaring Frank guilty of the heinous crime with which he was charged, the influential friends of Frank appealed to the State Board of Pardons, elected by the people to pass on applications for pardons and commutations to be considered by the Chief Executive of the state, and the Pardon Board sustained the records of the courts of justice and declined to

recommend the application for a commutation. I cannot find in the record of the Frank case, or in the Governor's lengthy statement of attempted justification, one reason why the Governor should have departed from his declared pology and interfere with the judgments

of the courts in this case. Unquote. At one o'clock in the afternoon, the crowd that had gathered about the Capitol lawn suddenly grouped around a speaker who had arisen upon the steps, a gray haired man, thin and gaunt of frame, who plainly showed his sixty or more years Who will follow me? He cried. He led the way into the Capitol and up the steps to the second floor, where the men packed the Senate chamber. A number

of speeches were made disapproving of the commutation. Sheriff Magnum, who had but shortly returned from his trip to Milledgeville, appeared in the crowd and took the rostrum. He explained that Frank was in Milledgeville and not in Atlanta. He gave details of the trip and declared it was at the order of the governor, whose dictates he had been sworn to uphold. His address was brief. Afterward he quit the audience, returning to jail, where he took a rest.

The police kept the situation completely in hand. Reinforced mounted squads patrolled the streets. Plainclothesmen mixed and mingled with the crowds. At no time did violence seem imminent. About eight o'clock, several thousand people gathered on the sidewalks between the City Hall and five Points. At eight thirty o'clock, they began to

move northward, with Governor Slayton's country Place near Buckhead as their objective. At Peachtree in Allis Streets, a squad of city police was mobilized to stop them, but the crowd surged past. The crowd, now numbering over twelve hundred, continued out Peachtree Street to Porter Place, where they divided and part went Peachtree Street, while the remainder proceeded out West Peachtree. At Fourth Street, the crowd was met by another squad of police and some were turned back,

but the majority of them got by the police again. At Brookwood the West Peachtree Street and the Peachtree Street contingents met again. At Brookwood Bridge, Chief of Police Beavers, in command of about forty policemen, met the crowd. A number of arrests were made here and hundreds of the crowd were turned back. Several hundred, however, succeeded in getting by the police again and proceeded

on foot out Peachtree Road. At the Governor's residence, a formidable body of county police had been stationed under Chief of County Police, George Matheson, in anticipation of the crowd. When those already on foot arrived, they found a crowd already there, having come by automobile. Sheriff Magnum was also there with a squad of deputies and a force of deputized citizens in charge of w.

Woods White. The county police and the deputies arrayed themselves just behind the barbed wire entanglements inside the governor property, while the crowd gathered in the road outside. Sheriff Magnum asked the crowd to be orderly and dispersed. He was met, however, with shouting and threats. In the meantime, the entire fifth Regiment had been mobilized at the armory. A hurry call was sent in for troops, and a battalion under the command of Major Catron was dispatched in automobiles.

Upon arrival at the governor's residence, the militia deployed along the streets with fixed bayonets and pushed the crowd back towards the city. The governor declared martial law. Within a radius of half a mile of his house. The crowd was gradually dispersed, but this was not accomplished until several men and officers of the militia had been wounded by stones, bottles, and other missiles from the crowd. The militiamen two were forced a number of times to use the butts

of their guns to force the crowd back. Among those who were hurt were Major Catron cut upon the wrist with a broken bottle, Lieutenant Arnold Packer struck in the stomach with a brick and perhaps internally injured w w Foot, a private cut by a broken bottle, Clyde Burrows, a civilian struck with the butt of an automatic, and a man named McDonald with an abrasion on the

head. After the crowd in front of the Governor's residence was either dispersed or quieted, it was reported to Major Catron that two hundred men from Marietta were approaching from the rear down Pace Ferries Road. Shortly after midnight, another battalion was ordered out from the armory and proceeded on street cars. The governor's horse

guards also reported at the Governor's residence and helped in dispersing the crowns. Governor Slayton issued a statement during the day in which he asked the people to suspend judgment until they had read his decision on the case. He declared he was confident he had done the right thing and that he had only considered his duty in this case. The crowd on the way out broke into the branch store of the King Hardware Store on Peachtree Street at tenth, presumably in search of

arms and ammunition. Bricks and building material were picked up by the crowd from houses in course of construction along the way. An incident that the Governor's residence before the arrival of the militia was the discovery by county policeman Haney of a man within one hundred yards of the house with a revolver. He had slipped through the cordon of police. He was quickly overpowered, disarmed, and placed under arrest. Many arrests were made at the City Hall corner, where the

huge gathering began to collect shortly after supper. Chief Beavers was in charge of a squad of fifty or more mounted policemen and patrolmen who effectively managed to keep the traffic clear and to keep the crowd in a scattered State eight news from Millageville had it that the town was serene and that there was no evidence of trouble. Frank retired early on account of the sleep he had lost on the journey the previous night. He will start in the morning upon his first work

as a lifer on the state farm. He will be given light tasks in the farm work until he recovers the strength lost by his two years confinement. Passengers reaching Atlanta reported excitement in Woodstock and Marietta and adjoining towns and Woodstock and e Marietta Governor Slayton had been hung in effigy. In Newton, Georgia, the effigies of Leo Frank and Governor Slayton were hung to a giant oak in the park at the Union Station and set on fire, after which they were

dragged blazing through the principal streets accompanied by about fifty automobiles. Later, the charred effigies were hung into an enormous Chautauqua sign, which is stretched across the street at the Courthouse Square. The effigy swung there until almost midnight, when they were cut down. The effigies were prepared in the afternoon from clothing store dummies, artificial limbs, and such material. Early in the night, they were hung to an oak tree in the park just a few blocks from the

center of town. Some ten or fifteen gallons of kerosene and gasoline were poured upon them and fire was set to them. Feeling ran at a high tension until midnight. No one was hurt and there was no property damage. Millageville, Georgia, July eighteenth, nineteen fifteen. Leo M. Frank, serving a life imprisonment sentence for the murder of Mary Fagan, was attackeded and his throat cut by William Crean, a fellow prisoner at the State prison farm here.

Physicians announced late tonight that the wounded man's condition was serious, but that he has a chance to recover. The attack on Frank was made while he was sleeping in the prison dormitory in company with the other inmates. The knife used was made of a file that had been used by prisoners in killing hogs during the day. Frank's throat was cut for a distance of several inches and the jugular vein partially severed. Some animosity has been shown Frank since he arrived

at the State prison farm. After his death sentence was commuted to life imprisonment, but the prison officials said tonight that they had not thought for an instant that an attack would be made on him. William Crean, forty five years old, who is doing a life term from Columbus, Georgia on a charge of murder, has confessed to cutting Frank's throat. Crean has been put up

in a dungeon. The inmates of the prison occupy one large room at night, a sort of dormitory where the strictest of rules are observed by the prisoners. All are allowed the freedom of the floor until eight o'clock, but after that hour a prisoner is not allowed to move without permission from a guard. The attack on Frank tonight came so quick that no guard had time to interfere.

Crean is alleged to have drawn the knife from his prison clothing, where he had it secreted for the murderous attack, and, uttering a curse, thrust it across the throat of Frank. The attack being from behind. Frank fell to the floor, uttering a cry of pain. The lights were quickly switched on and the guards saw him prostrate upon the floor, blood spurting from his wounds. While a prisoner was trying to make his way back to his

bed. A knife that had been made of a file which the convicts had used in killing hogs that morning, was found on the floor of the prison where the attack occurred. How the knife was smuggled into the prison is a mystery. The guards found Frank's condition alarming, prisoners were excited. The prison surgeon was immediately called, but before he could reach the dormitory, two well known Georgia surgeons who are serving terms in prison were at Frank's side, administering

first aid to the wounded man. One of these physicians is doctor J. W. McNaughton of Swainsborough, who's doing a life term for murder, having been sent to prison after four trials, and the other physician who attended him was doctor L. M. Harrison of Columbus, doing a long term. I guess they've got me. Frank is quoted as having uttered to the doctors who stood over him. Frank was conscious from the start and continued to talk. He suggested to the doctor how the flow of blood could be stopped.

He was gradually growing weaker. Within a few minutes, Frank was placed in the operating room of the hospital department of the prison. Doctor Compton, the prison surgeon, assisted by the two doctors who were doing time there, started to sew up the wounds. Frank was growing weaker at that time, but was still conscious. Doctors completed sewing up the wound in Frank's throat at one fifteen o'clock this morning. They had joined the jugular vein and they had believed

the operation was successful. Frank was taken to the hospital. He was still conscious. At three o'clock this morning, Doctor Compton, the prison surgeon, stated that Frank's chances for recovery are slight. There is danger of blood poisoning, said the doctor. There is danger of the stitches in the jugular veins slipping, either one of which might cause death. August seventeenth, nineteen fifteen.

The public will never know the identities of the twenty five brave and loyal men who took into their own hands the execution of a law that had been stripped from them by Governor Slayton. I would not advise inquisitive authorities or persons to try to reveal them. They are as zealously banded together now and as relentless as the moment they invaded the state prison. This was the statement of

a citizen of Marietta. He was thoroughly aware of the movements of the lynching clansmen, of the process of organization, of their plans, and their painstaking system of advanced preparations. He would neither admit nor deny that he was a member of the mob. Quote. The men who hanged Leo Frank, the murderer of Mary Fagan, did not go about it with a spirit of lawlessness

nor vindictiveness. They felt it a duty, a duty to their state and commonwealth, a duty to the memory of Mary Fagan, whom all Cobb County loved, and whose memory is cherished in every household in the hills you see over there to the west. They would have lynched him more than a month ago if someone hadn't got careless and permitted a leak. Governor Harris was apprized

of the plans and ordered the militia to be in readiness. That was the day when the county police were scouting in the edge of Fulton and Cobb Counties on the lookout for automobiles from mariettam. Governor Harris and the military authorities no doubt received widespread censure for this apparently unnecessary action. But if the truth were known, and it gave Leo Frank at least one month of grace he would not have received from the hands of the men who were about to go into

Millageville forum. Ever since the day Governor Slayton commuted the sentence of Frank, this morning's hanging has been in process of formulation. Minute and definite plans were drawn, and there was not a missing thread from the fabric of the perfected scheme. When the twenty five men set out early last night on their journey to Milledgeville, meetings were held in a spot so conspicuous you would be astonished to hear its name called. A leader was chosen, a man who bears

as reputable a name as you would ever hear in a lawful community. He was a man respected and honored. Hundreds of men would obey him. The twenty five would have gone through hell in high water with him. The chosen twenty five, although this wasn't the entire number available, were men whose worth was known collectively and individually. I doubt you would find anywhere a body of

men more loyal, faithful, obedient, and determined. They were resolved to bear whatever burdens arose, as though it fell upon their individual shoulders, and to go through with their plans at any cost. They were business like as well as determined. Like business ventures. They would not go into it without first knowing every lay of the ground and every detail, so far as could be foreseen. The business of getting the men was the first undertaking. This

was done only after a good deal of sifting and weeding. I have learned from my father and from those of my various kin who served in the reconstruction days, the modes and methods of the ku Klux. But even that noble institution for perfection of organization, determination and daring could not equal this modern exploit, done in the interest of a justice of which we have been denied by the man we put into office in the first place. The organization of the

body who lynched Frank was more open than mysterious. It was more on the order of a plane open and shut business proposition. The purpose of the coup Klucks was more to overawe and frighten than anything else. The determination of the men who brought retribution to the memory of Mary Fagan was of grim vindication even if at extreme peril. When the business of organization was finished, the next object was to fully acquaint themselves with conditions and contingencies in Milledgeville, the first

seat of action. Advance men were sent to the scene. They went in automobiles that they might familiarize themselves with the roadways and draw maps of them. In Milledgeville, they made thorough observations of the prison grounds, took into contemplation the barbed wire entanglements, and made themselves acquainted with the telegraph and telephone connections, and made intimate inspection of all inroads and outlets to the town. The

plans were perfect. When the hour came to strike, two men were sent in advance of the main body. They were a reconnoiter into several telegraphic and telephonic communications with the outside world, so that Millageville authorities could not notify other townships to intercept them. As they carried Frank to the place selected as the scene of his death early Monday night. The automobiles assigned to the journey were sent along their respective routes to pick up the chosen men. Even the wives

of hardly any of them were aware of their departure. The automobiles slid up quietly to the front of the houses. A signal given and the man joined them. And when they returned to their beds in the break of two Tuesday's dawn, it is doubtful that if any members of their twenty five households knew that they had been absent after midnight, it won't be possible to disclose the

identities of the twenty five, even through their wives or children. The men who proceeded to Milledgeville never grouped until they reached the outskirts of the town. They took a circuitous route so they avoided the much traveled roads in larger towns. Approaching Millageville, a car was sent ahead to inform the advancemen, who were to cut off communication. The wires severed, the two men joined the main body and proceeded with them to prison. Every procedure was calculated to a

fine point. It was all carefully planned and equally as carefully and painstakingly executed. No one was to speak excepting the leader. He was to have absolute direction. They obeyed him to a man his word, a law that knew no denying. They would have shot Leo Frank on the spot or released him at his command. It was this thorough understanding that was largely responsible for the

progress of the undertaking without mishap. Equipped with maps of the roads which offered speedy travel in the least possibility of encounter, the automobiles traveled at a high speed to Roswell and thence to Marietta. Every man was fully armed, and it had come to a question of a fight. There wasn't one among them who wouldn't have given his own life's blood as quickly and readily as he joined to shed Franks. It was originally planned to carry Frank to the cemetery in

which Mary Fagin's body is buried, but daybreak overtook his captors. They were speeding over the road that leads to Marietta, in the neighborhood of Mary's birthplace. When the sun mounted the horizon. There was no little discussion over the proposal to hold the lynching in the Fray vicinity, the more daring members of the clan wishing to carry out their first plans and continue boldly to the grave

of its victim. But a word from the leader silenced all opposition, and Mary Fagan's death was vindicated in the same grove where she used to play when a barefoot girl, long before she ever dreamed of going to work in the pencil factory. It was ten point thirty when the seven automobiles conveying the lynching crew reached the prison near Milledgeville. The two guards who kept an outer vigil in front of the building were not aware of it until the procession of machines

drew up at the front of the building. The guards became active when the occupants began to jump from their cars and raise their guns at the first cent of trouble. They had hardly lifted the rifles, though before sturdy, able bodied men had overpowered them, gagged them, and left them in charge of four of the lynchers. Most of the mob remained on the outside while six men entered the prison grounds. The barbed wire entanglements that surrounded the prison were

snipped in twain by electricians pliers. The entrance to the prison building was the first point of invasion. A thickly built man wearing a mask, who stood in front of a handful of men who followed him, rapped vigorously upon the door, giving a guttural outcry as the knuckles fell. Superintendent Burke was preparing to retire at his home three hundred yards distant from the prison building, when summoned to his door, the invaders pushed in and the arms of the superintendent

were pinioned to his side. He was disarmed and a demand was made for the keys to the inner prison. When the keys were turned over to the masked leader, Burke was handcuffed and forced to march into the building at the head of the body. Meanwhile, a group of five men men had gone to the home of Warden James E. Smith, nearby the prison building, and as he appeared at the door, thrust rifles and revolvers in his face, informing him that they meant business and had come for Leo M. Frank.

Missus Smith, hearing the commotion, sprang from her bedroom. Running into the hallway, she faced the array of weapons. She fainted in the arms of her husband. After entreating the lynchers not to harm him, she was told by a gaunt man who wore no mask, No, ma'am, we ain't gonna touch him if he acts right. The warden was compelled to lead the men into the main building, where the first group was joined. The two inner guards, when confronted, put up a feeble resistance, but were

quickly overpowered. Handcuffs were worn by both the warden and his superintendent. Entering the room occupied by Frank, he was awakened by a bitter exclamation from the leader. Hardly had his eyes opened, and he was grabbed by the wrists and the fingers of the second mask man sank into his hair, clutching a handful and pulling him in this manner out of bed. Frank groaned in pained. The men snapped a pair of handcuffs upon his wrists and began making for

the door. The capture was so orderly that but few prisoners, only those adjacent to the emptied bunk were disturbed in their sleep. When the captors had reached the entrance, warden Smith and the superintendent still at their head. The superintendent was asked to go along with them. He replied vehemently, I'll be damned if I go anywhere with you. Just for this cost or report. The lynchers permitted Burke to remain manacled while they released the wrists of the warden.

The machines stood by the curb, their engines running, ready for a speedy getaway. The men who were keeping guard over the overpowered sentry stood at the post, one of them lighting a cigarette. The seven machines almost simultaneously veered into the road and shot toward Eatenton. Frank, his half wakened mind, still unable to grasp the full report of his captivity, was stretched in

the to knoweau of the first machine, and he mumbled incoherently. Frank was taken from the state prison farm at Milledgeville shortly after ten o'clock Monday night, after the prison authorities have been overpowered, was thrown into an automobile and hastened over country roads in a manner so orderly that even in Marietta no one knew of the enactment until a voice coming over the telephone to Sheriff Hicks at the break of dawn said, Leo Franks hanging to a limb down here in fry

Jin neighborhood. The deputy Sheriff hastily donned his clothes and in a buggy traveled to the spot. He had been preceded by a score of others, one of whom William fry Owned or an operator of the gin, had seen the solemn procession file along the road. They were standing in a circle beneath the gruesome find, which swung in the light breeze, still warm and bleeding.

The town and countryside hurried down in rigs and automobiles and gazed with awe, some of them some with exultation, not a few with horror, and many with complaisance upon the ghastly remains of Leo M. Frank As they swayed from the tree. Many of them pursued the little Ford machine as it raced Atlantaward from the undertaking shop, where the wicker basket containing the corpse was transferred from hearst to auto for the dash into the city. As a further precaution,

the village undertaker had driven up with his little black wagon. He had driven it through the crowd until it projected into the cleared space that lay beneath the dangling body. Hurry up, there, commanded Judge Morris, who had assumed command of the situation. The former judge opened his pocket knife and slashed the rope. The body fell to the ground, crumpling as the muscles relaxed from their long suspension. The crowd surged forward. The undertaker and his assistance hurriedly

bundled it into the wicker basket. As it was shoved into the black wagon, a newspaper photographer arrived. He pleaded, just a minute, please let me get a photograph. Judge Morris retorted, get away from here. This isn't any time for morbid sensationalism. The black wagon was surrounded. Drive away from here right now, ordered Judge Morris. As the wagon went up the

road, men and boys jumped in automobiles and pursued it. It was originally proposed to carry the body to the Marietta Undertaking Establishment, where it beheld pending advice from Frank's relatives. Arrived at the Undertakers, though it was seen that there would be a demonstration. Judge Morris commandeered a nearby car. The basket was thrown upon the tonneau, and just as the pursuing machines were coming into view, hurried toward Atlanta. Affidavit March seventh, nineteen eighty two. The

undersigned, being duly sworn, deposes as follows. My name is Alonzo McClendon man. I'm eighty three years old. I was born near Memphis, Tennessee, on August eighth, eighteen ninety eight. My father was Alonzo Man, who was born in Germany. My mother was Hattie mc clenden man. When I was a small boy, my family moved to Atlanta, where I spent most of my life. In nineteen thirteen, I was the office boy for Leo M. Frank, who ran the National Pencil Company. That was the

year Leo Frank was convicted of the murder of Mary Fagin. I was fourteen years old at the time I was called as a witness in the murder trial. At that time, I was put on the witness stand, but I did not tell all that I knew. I was not asked questions about what I knew. I did not volunteer. If I had revealed all I knew, it would have cleared Leo Frank and would have saved his life. I now suffer from a heart condition. I have undergone surgery to implant a pacemaker

in my heart. I am making the statement because finally, I want to have the record clear. I want the public to understand that Leo Frank did not kill Mary Fagin. Jim Conley, the chief witnessed against Leo Frank, lied under oath. I know that I'm certain that he lied. I am convinced that he, not Leo Frank, killed Mary Fagin. I know as a matter of certainty that Jim Conley and he alone disposed of her body. Jim Conley threatened to kill me if I told what I knew. I was

young and I was frightened. I had no doubt Conley would have tried to kill me if I had told that I had seen him with Mary Fagin that day. I related to my mother what I had seen there at the pencil factory. She insisted that I not get involved. She told me to remain silent. My mother loved me, She knew Conley had threatened to kill me. She didn't want our families to be involved in controversy or for me to be subjected to any publicity. My father supported her in telling me to remain

silent. My mother repeated to me over and over not to tell. She never thought Leo Frank would be convicted. Of course, she was wrong. Even after he was convicted, my mother told me to keep the secret what I had seen. I am sure in my own mind that if the lawyers had asked me specific questions about what I had seen the day of Mary Fagin's death. I would have told the whole truth when I testified at Frank's trial. Of course, they didn't suspect what I knew. They asked me practically

nothing. I was nervous and afraid that day. There were crowds in the street who were angry, who were saying that Leo Frank should die. Some were yelling things like kill of a Jew. It was very nervous. The court room was filled with people. Every seat was taken. I was interested mostly in getting out of there. I spoke with a speech impediment and had

trouble pronouncing the R in Frank's name in those days. The lawyers put their heads together and said it was obvious I knew nothing, and since I was so young, they would let me off the stand. It was not an easy place for a young boy to be there in court like that. I never fully realized until I was older that if I had told what I knew, Leo Frank would have been acquitted and gone free. Instead, he was imprisoned. After he was convicted, my mother told me there was nothing we

could do to change the jury's verdict. My father agreed with her. I continued to remain silent. Later, Frank was lynched by a mob from Marietta, Georgia. I know, of course, because I kept silent Leo Frank lost his life. I've spent many nights thinking about that. I've learned to live with it. I now swear to the events I witnessed that fatal day, Confederate Memorial Day nineteen thirteen, when Mary Fagan, who was just about my age fourteen, was killed. I came to work on time that morning,

at about eight o'clock. I rode the streetcar from my home on South Gordon Street, and when I walked into the building, Jim Conley, the janitor, who also was called a sweeper, was sitting under the stairwell on the first floor of the building. Although it was early in the morning, Conley had obviously already consumed considerable beer. He drank a lot, even in the mornings. He spoke to me. He asked me for a dime to buy beer. A dime could buy a good sized amount of beer in those

days. I told Jim Conley I didn't have it. That was not the truth. I had some money in my back pocket, but I'd let Conley have a nickel or a dime for beer before. He never paid me back. I didn't like to be around Jim Conley. After I told Conley I didn't have a money, I went up the stairs to the second floor, where my desk was located in the office of Leo Frank. My job required that I opened the mall file papers, keep the office orderly, run errands

in the like. Leo Frank arrived in the building that morning shortly after I did. He came into the office and spoke to me. I always called him mister Frank, and he referred to me by my given name, Alonzo. I do not know whether Leo Frank had seen Jim Conley on the first floor when he came into the building that morning. A substitute secretary worked for

Leo Frank that morning. As I remember, it was a routine Saturday morning for me at the office because Memorial Day, the factory part of the company was closed. But sometimes on Saturday mornings, people who had I worked at the factory during the week could come to the pay window in the office and collect their salaries. Girls who worked in the factory made about twelve cents an hour. I did not know Mary Fagan by name, but I had seen

her at the factory and knew her face. We were just about the same age. I was supposed to meet my mother that day about noon and go to the Confederate Memorial Day parade. When I left the premises just before noon, Mary Fagan had not come to the pencil company. She apparently came to pick up her pay shortly after I left to go meet my mother. Some time after eleven thirty, and perhaps as late as a quarter of twelve. I told mister Frank that my mother wanted me to meet her so that I

could go to the parade with her. I didn't care all that much about seeing the parade, but my mother wanted me to go. Mister Frank agreed for me to leave the office at that time. I told him I would return to the office and complete my filing later in the afternoon. He said he expected he would still be there When I left the front building. Down to the stairs and out the first floor front door. Jim Conley was sitting where I'd seen him when I came to work, in the darkened area of

the stairwell. I walked to the point where I was supposed to meet my mother. It was a short distance, perhaps a block and a half. We had agreed to meet in front of a store on Whitehall Street. My memory is that my mother had planned to buy a hat that day. I stopped and bought a hot dog on the way to meet her. However, when I arrived, she was not there. She had told me that if she was unable to come for me, not to worry. I waited for

her for a few minutes. Since I didn't care that much about seeing the pard, I went back to work. I can't be sure as to exactly how long I was gone, but it could not have been more than half an hour. Before I got back to the pencil factory. I had no idea that I was about to witness an important moment in a famous murder case, a moment that has not been made public until now that I was about to become a witness to tragic h I walked into the building by the front

door. Inside the door, I walked toward the stairwell. I looked to my right, and I was confronted by a scene I will remember vividly until the day I die. Jim Conly was standing between the trap door that led to the basement and the elevator shaft. I have an impression that the trap door was partially open, but my eyes were fixed on Jim Conly. He had the body of Mary Fagin in his arms. I didn't know it was Mary Fagin. I only knew that it was a girl. At that moment.

I couldn't tell if she was alive. She appeared to be unconscious or perhaps dead. I saw no blood. He was holding her with both arms, gripping her around the waist. I can't remember the color of her clothes, but I have the impression that she had on clean, pretty clothes. She was extremely short, and her head was sort of on his shoulder or over it. Her hair was streaming down his back. Her hair was not in braids when I saw her, it was hanging loose. I saw no

blood on the part of her neck that was exposed. I did not know if she was dead, but she was at least unconscious. She was limp and did not move. Her skirt had come up to about her knees. It was as I suddenly barged into the first floor, prepared to go up the stairs to the office, that I encountered Conly with the body of Mary Fagin. Conley was close to the trap door that led down into the basement

by way of the ladder. I believed that from the direction he was headed and the attitude of the body, that he was preparing to dump the body down the trap door. I have no clear memory of whether the elevator had been stopped on that first floor, but if it was not on that floor, the shaft would have been open. He could have dumped her down the empty elevator shaft. I believed for some reason, Jim Conley turned round toward me. He either heard my footsteps come or he sensed I was behind him.

He wheeled on me, and in a voice that was low but threatening and frightening to me, he said, if you ever mentioned this, I'll kill you. I turned and took a step or two, possibly three or four steps up toward the second floor. But I must have worried about whether the office upstairs was closed. I did hear some movement upstairs, but I can't be sure who was on the floors above. I was fearful that the office might be closed, so I turned back toward Conly. I wanted to

get out of there quick. He got to within about eight feet of me. He reached out as if to put one arm or hand on me. I ran out of the front door and raced away from that building. I went straight home. I rode the street car. Once at home, I told my mother what I had just seen. I told her what Jim Conley had said to me about killing me. I didn't know for sure that the girl in his arms was dead. My mother was very disturbed by what I told her. She told me that I was never never to tell anyone else

what I had seen that day at the factory. She said she didn't want me involved, or the family involved in any way. She told me to go on about my business as if nothing had happened, that sometime soon I would have to quit working there. From then on, whenever I was at work, I steered clear of Jim Conley. I kept away from him, and he did the same. When my father came home, my mother explained to him what I had seen and what Conley had said to me. My

father told me to forget it and never mention it. My mother was a very strong willed woman who was thirty years younger than my father, and he said to me what she wanted him to say. Later on, he told me that Frank would never be convicted. I have wished many times that my mother hadn't taken that attitude, and that either she had told the authorities, or that she had encouraged me to tell somebody, perhaps Leo Frank, what

I had seen. When the detectives laid questioned me, I told only that part of the story up to the time I left that day to go meet my mother. I did not tell that I had come back into the building and saw Conley with the body. When Frank went on trial and I was called as a witness, my mother told me I would have to go and testify. She repeated to me what she'd already told me the day of Mary Fagin's murder. She told me to keep to myself what I had seen.

She said, if I were not asked a specific question, I did not have to give a specific answer. Jim Conley was the chief witness against Leo Frank. I know that all of the testimony was false. I am confident that I came in just seconds after Conley had taken the girl's money and grabbed her. I do not think sex was his motive. I believe it was

money. Her pay was never found in the building after she died. Many times I have fought since all of this occurred almost seventy years ago, that if I had hollered or yelled for help when I ran into Conley with the girl in his arms that day, I might have saved her life. I might have On the other hand, I might have lost my own life. If I had told what I saw that day, I might have saved Leo Frank's life. I didn't realize that at the time. I was too young

to understand. As the years have gone by, I've told this secret to a number of other people. I told it when I was in the army in World War One. In fact, I had a fight with another soldier who became angry when I said that Leo Frank did not kill the girl, but that Conley did. I have told other people. I told my late wife. She urged me not to make a public because she felt it wouldn't

do any good. She said it would not bring back Leo Frank and it would not bring back Mary Fagin, and I told other relatives and friends. On one occasion, I believe in the nineteen fifties, when I was operating a rest in Atlanta, I discussed this with a reporter in Atlanta, but the reporter said that since Leo Frank's wife was still alive, it was not a matter of the newspaper wanted to open up. Leo Frank was convicted by

lies. Heaped upon lies. It wasn't just Conley who lied. Others said that Leo Frank had women in the office for immoral purposes, and that he had liquor there. There was a story that he took women down in the basement. That cellar was filthy, It was filled with coal dust. I was in the basement twice and remember the dirt and filth there. That was all false. Leo Frank was a good office manager. He always was proper with people who worked for him. There were witnesses who told lies, and

I have remained silent. Now I am finally making all this public. I am glad to have it all come out at last. I'm able to get this off my heart. I believe it will help people to understand that courts and juries can make mistakes. They made a mistake in the Leo Frank case. I think it is good for it all to come out, even at this late date. There will be some people who will be angry at me because I kept all this silence until it was too late to save Leo Frank's

life. They will say that being young is no excuse. They will blame my mother. The only thing I can say is that she did what she thought was best for me and the family. Other people may hate me for telling it. I hope not, but I am prepared for that too. I know that I haven't a long time to live. All that I have said is the truth, and when my time comes, I hope that God understands me better for having told it. That is what matters most, Signed

Alonzo him Man. A grand jury was convened to investigate the lynching of Leo Frank, but no indictments were ever issued. Jim Conley was convicted as an accessory to the murder of Mary Fagin and spent about a year in jail, but in nineteen nineteen was sentenced to twenty years for robbing an Atlanta drugstore and arrested at least twice more before his death in nineteen sixty two. The State of Georgia posthumously pardoned Leo Frank in nineteen eighty six. That was mob justice

for Leo Frank. The Murder of Mary Fagin. Theme music by Dave Sam's and Rachel Shot engineered by David Hisch Third Street Music, Incidental music by Niko Vittesi. Media management by Sean R. Jones, Production assistance by Emily cymer Braun and I'm True Crime historian Richard O. Jones signing off for now