Forgotten News

by Jack Finney

  Still another man testified that he, too, had been passing through Bond Street on the night of the murder; that he'd seen Farrell sitting there on the stoop fixing his shoe; and that he'd also seen the man in shirt sleeves open the door.

  And the Times got a letter from the Dr. Morton who'd been turned down as a witness on Tuesday. He said, "The 'German, of unprepossessing features'—the 'would-be' witness, presents his compliments to the Reporter of the Daily Times, and begs his acceptance of the inclosed [a daguerreotype of himself]; trusting that he will be truly grateful for it, as furnishing him with the means for a prompt vindication of his skill as a physiognomist.

  "The undersigned begs to state for the information of the sagacious Reporter, that he was born in this state, and of New England parents— studied medicine in this city, and has practiced medicine here for the last five years; that he is upheld from despondency, in view of the expressed opinion of the Reporter—by assurances from several sympathizing friends, that he does not look especially like a villain…." Signed, "J. B. Morton, No. 119 Tenth Street."

  The Times replied: "We cannot help thinking that Dr. M. is unduly sensitive…. We permit him, however, to make his own explanation … adding our own certificate that, from the daguerrotype of himself which he inclosed in the letter, our Reporter's opinion of his personal appearance is entirely mistaken. We regret our inability to present an engraving of this picture for the assurance and satisfaction of the public. We must ask them to take our own statement that the Doctor is a very good-looking man. Those who doubt it can see the portrait he has sent us, on application at the Times office."

  Then they turned serious. Only two days earlier the Times had editorialized: "… Mrs. Cunningham is … identified as having … purchased a sword-cane" (although in fact she had not been identified). "… This leaves it impossible to doubt her complicity…." Now they denounced Connery and Judge Capron for refusing to allow Dr. Morton to testify that maybe it wasn't Emma Cunningham "who bought the sword-cane, and said it must be 'short and sharp.' … This testimony is permitted to go through the length and breadth of the land, while proof that would completely explode it is ruled out….

  "This may be the law," the Times huffed, "but it is not justice."

  And then finally, on Saturday afternoon, two weeks to the day from when Harvey Burdell was found murdered in his office, the inquest was over. Except for the verdict.

  And the coroner's summation. He'd written it out, and would read it aloud, he said, so that he couldn't be misquoted. I don't suppose that under the circumstances it was actually too long; it took forty-five minutes, the Tribune said. A few selected phrases may suggest the flavor of the coroner's address: "… I may assert without fear of contradiction … the perpetrators of the foul deed … eyes of the public riveted upon us … unparalleled in the annals of crime," and "I do not shrink from the task…."

  Of course, it wouldn't have been the coroner if he hadn't got at least one laugh: "… I saw it predicated in one of the public journals of this City on Thursday last, that I should probably consume an entire day in my summing-up of the case, and as that prediction will not be verified, I shall await with calm resignation the castigation that awaits me for presuming to falsify the prediction referred to. (Laughter.)"

  My reading of the coroner's charge to his jury is that he virtually directed a verdict naming Eckel and Mrs. Cunningham as the probable murderers, and Snodgrass as possible accessory. His logic: it was the inmates of number 31 who had the opportunity: and who were they? He listed their names (ending with Daniel Ullman, but adding, "This latter name we may exclude …"). So, if we can also eliminate the small boys, the daughters, and the servants, that left Eckel, Mrs. Cunningham, and Snodgrass.

  As for their motive, it was: "To reap the fruits" of the crime. Because if you believe, said Connery to the jury, that the October 28 marriage of Emma Cunningham was to an impostor claiming to be Dr. Burdell—and no one afterward ever behaved as though a marriage had really occurred —then the motive is the inheritance as widow of the Doctor's estate by Emma Cunningham, Eckel sharing in the proceeds for his part of the crime.

  And, he said, we have Farrell for proof, for if you believe, "as I do," that it was Eckel who came to the door and ordered Farrell away immediately after Dr. Burdell entered the house and then cried out, it eliminates the possibility of an unknown from outside who did the deed, leaving a bloody trail down the staircase, ending in a splotch on the front door, as he fled the house. If Farrell's identification is correct, the man who left that trail is Eckel.

  But why would Eckel murder Dr. Burdell, then stick his head out the front door? Well: "For what purpose he came to the door we cannot positively say; but it may be inferred, and I think the inference is a natural one, finding that his victim was dispatched, and having a murderer's fears that the cries may have been heard by some person outside, he ventured to the door, to satisfy himself that they had not been heard, thereby furnishing the strongest possible circumstantial evidence against himself, that he was the murderer or one of the murderers, … in this horrid tragedy. Thus, gentlemen, by what man terms accident, but which may more fitly be termed the just and wise interposition of that Being who guides and governs all, and from whom no secrets are hidden, was the witness Farrell on the very spot at the needed moment, and was there made by the murderer himself a witness of his guilt."

  Farrell's testimony also meant that, if he could hear the cry of the murdered man from outside the house, those inside the house surely heard it, too. Therefore they lied when they said they didn't. For further corroboration, add in the peculiar sleeping arrangements of the Cunningham women on the night of the murder, suggesting a clumsily arranged false alibi; and also add the sending of the servants early to bed as though to get them out of the way. In addition, there was the smell of burning wool and leather on the night of the murder, suggesting the burning of clothes. The fact that no bloody clothing was ever found led—by the coroner's logic—to the inference, not that maybe there was none to find, but "that the murderer proceeded … to destroy the garments he wore, spotted and besmeared and in all probability saturated and baptized as by immersion in the blood of his victim."

  There was more: "… the blood of the murdered man cries out to Heaven for vengeance …"; there were "arrows of retributive justice," and "pandering to the morbid appetite of the public …" and, he said: "The attacks on myself personally, past and yet to come … have been but as 'dewdrops on the lion's mane…."'

  Toward the end the coroner told the jury that: "My opinion ought not to weigh a feather in the scales of justice now in your hands. The verdict is to be yours, not mine, or influenced by me." At about a quarter to five, the jury retired to think it all over.

  If the coroner's logic was a little shaky at times, and if he suggested that things had been proved that really hadn't, I don't know that he did too badly nevertheless. Things certainly didn't look good for Emma Cunningham and John Eckel, anyway. So what could the coroner suggest to his jury: to let them go? This wasn't a trial, even if he himself had made it seem like one; he was telling them only that there ought to be a trial, and surely he was right. Just the same, hours passed and they stayed out, unable to make up their minds.

  But I enjoyed the wait. "The large crowd which had occupied the street in front of the house during the day, the throng of more fortunate spectators who crowded the front parlor, and the changeable detachment of hangers-on who succeeded, by one pretense or another, in obtaining admission to the Coroner's room, lingered pertinaciously for two or three hours in the hope of hearing a verdict. As 9 o'clock approached, however, and no sign was made by the jurors indicating that they had agreed, the patience of even the most patient began to tire, and people dropped off, one by one, until the crowd outside had dwindled down to half a dozen, and the assemblage inside, exclusive of members of the press and police officers, had so far diminished as barely to exceed a score. After the tedious task of transcribing the Coroner's charg
e had been completed by the reporters—and the event was celebrated with sundry jokes and numerous hearty congratulations—the scene within became unusually animated, and assumed a free-and-easy air strangely at variance both with the occasion and the place. Groups of five or six were scattered here and there through the room, discussing the probable terms of the verdict, the probable chance of the ultimate conviction of the accused, the probable disposition of the house, the probable fate of the children, the probability of success in raising a fund to buy drinks all round, and a perfect litany of other chances, speculations, probabilities and reflections. At fitful intervals appeared the Coroner, and no sooner would his good-natured face show itself within the door, than he was beset by a torrent of queries as to what the jury was doing, and whether they had agreed. 'Gentlemen,' said he, on the first occasion, 'I have just been up there; I rapped at the door and told them that if they thought they could not agree before 12 o'clock I would go home, because I'm completely done up, and come back in the morning. They informed me, gentlemen, that they are drawing up a verdict, and so we'll have it in a short time.'

  "The next time he reported progress, which was about an hour later, the Jury had but five lines to write—which took them half an hour more.

  "In the meantime, the jollity increased downstairs. One enterprising individual raised a supply of crackers and cheese which was extensively partaken of by the five-cent contributors who clubbed to provide funds for the purchase. Another heightened the pleasure of the repast by relating queer mistakes into which the reporters or printers had fallen in giving the testimony of witnesses examined during the inquest. Among the other singular errors that occurred he stated that one had been brought to his attention that morning by Dr. Garish whom he had heard implore, with choking voice and eyes full of tears, the reporter of the Herald to correct that portion of his evidence, as published in that paper, in which he had been made to say that he had examined the wounds in the body of Dr. Burdell, and 'found one in the heart under the navel.'

  "Towards the close of the entertainment the Coroner again entered, and was magnanimously presented with the fragments, to-wit: a cracker and a half and the cheese crust. Somebody suggested that he should treat 'the press.'

  " 'No, by George,' said he, 'I think the press should treat me. I have been giving them food for a fortnight—filling their rapacious maw, almost to choking, for two whole weeks, and I think they ought to give me food for one night.'

  " 'Well, but, Coroner,' said a third, 'you know the press has treated you already.'

  " 'Yes,' says the Coroner, 'I know what you mane.'

  " 'D----d badly,' said a fourth.

  " 'Exactly,' was the general response.

  " 'Well, gentlemen,' said the Coroner, 'notwithstanding all the Press has said against me, I can say that I never used an indiscretion at this table. I never thought of using one—but in the case of that little Irishwoman, Mary, I adopted the plan of extracting what she knew from her, which I thought most likely to succeed. But, as for indiscretions, I never meant them—I protest solemnly to God—(and here he reverently removed his hat)—I never meant them.'

  "Everybody agreed with the Coroner, and the feeling was universally expressed that he had done as well as he possibly could, and was, in fact, entitled to the distinguished consideration of being regarded as a genuine old brick.

  "Time gradually wore on. The last cigars were smoked down to the smallest possible stumps. The last jokes were cracked. Some of the officers had dropped asleep on the sofas. The conversation had subsided into little more than an occasional whisper. Little Georgie Cunningham crept silently in and out of the room….

  "Another quarter of an hour passed, and the suspense was at length relieved. Capt. Dilk entered the room and ordered the jurors' seats to be cleared. The buzz of excited conversation was at once renewed. The jurors entered, evidently much exhausted. Silence ensued in an instant. The Deputy Coroner called over the roll, and each juror answered to his name.

  "Coroner—Gentlemen, have you agreed upon your verdict?

  "Foreman—Yes, Sir.

  "Coroner—Read it.

  "Mr. Hall read as follows:"

  What the foreman then read was a verbal drum-roll beginning, "State of New-York, City and County of New-York. An inquisition taken at the house of the late Harvey Burdell, No. 31 Bond Street, in the Fifteenth Ward of. .." and continuing for 160 more words such as, "… in the year of our lord, one thousand eight hundred and fifty-seven … upon the oaths and affirmations of twelve good and lawful men … duly chosen and sworn or affirmed and charged to enquire … said Harvey Burdell … 30th day of January, 1857 … feloniously murdered, and came to his death…." And then finally it reached "the jurors believe from the evidence, and therefore find, that Emma Augusta Cunningham and John J. Eckel were principals in the commission of said murder; and the jurors aforesaid find that George Vail Snodgrass either joined … in the commission of the said murder, or was an accessory … and the jurors aforesaid further find that Augusta Cunningham and Helen Cunningham … have some knowledge of the facts connected with the said murder, which they have concealed … and that it is the duty of the Coroner to hold them for further action of the Grand Jury. In witness, thereof, we …" and they'd signed their names.

  Helen and Augusta, Connery then decided, were to stay under police guard here in the house so that they could take care of the boys. Hannah Conlon and Mary Donaho, the jury also advised, should be held as witnesses for the grand jury or made to post bond; and so must Farrell, whose original fears at coming forward as a witness were now realized.

  Said Captain Dilk, "I would state to the jury that Mr. Farrell's family are in very destitute circumstances. His wife has nothing to maintain herself with, and he has had nothing except what he has received in the way of food I have given him from the hotel. We had a regular subscription yesterday at the station house for the support of his wife."

  "Coroner—Oh, I think the city would act in a matter of this kind. The city ought to do it.

  "Capt. Dilk—While the city are thinking of it the woman would starve.

  "A juror—I suggest that the jury make a suggestion to that effect to the city, that is, that it take care of his family during the time he is in custody."

  Several others in the room agreed, the jury was at last discharged, and "Mr. E. Robinson, Jr., made a collection for the benefit of Farrell's family, to which the Jurors and others contributed. It amounted in all to $5.50, and was handed over to Capt. Dilk to be given to Mrs. Farrell."

  Nothing I found suggested that anyone remembered that today was Helen's birthday, her sixteenth, but maybe Augusta and the boys did.

  10

  For a short time now the murder moved to a back burner, though the city's news hunger remained. But the grand jury's deliberations, which began only three days later, were secret and the newspapers had to wait.

  They managed to keep the pot simmering, though; and the day after the inquest ended, both the Times and Tribune reporters showed up at the Tombs to see how Emma Cunningham, in her cell above, and how John Eckel, in his, were taking the verdict.

  I think the Times sent the wrong man, or maybe he didn't feel good today. All he found to report was that "Mrs. Cunningham maintained … the same stolid indifference which has marked her demeanor throughout the whole of the proceedings since the first day…. She remarked that she would prosecute the editors of all the newspapers immediately she regained her liberty." (Starting with the editor of the Times, I'd think.) "Her daughters, she added, would not be confined in the Tombs one day, as she would send for friends and get them bailed out."

  But the Tribune man found a different Emma Cunningham, or possibly she responded differently to another reporter's manner or questions. When he arrived, Mrs. Cunningham had left her cell—to get a little exercise, and "as our reporter entered the corridor in which her cell is situated, she appeared walking toward him; but she no sooner perceived the presence of strangers than she retr
eated to her cell."

  He talked to her there, then wrote: "She bears her trying situation with remarkable fortitude, and receives visitors with an ease and dignity that would seem to convey the impression that she felt conscious of her innocence…. She was attired in a mourning dress and dark shawl, and her head was uncovered…. She seemed more calm and collected than [she had when the inquest began]." His questions had to do with her guilt or innocence, and "she maintains her perfect innocence of the crime…. and scoffs at the idea that she could have committed it…."

  Of John Eckel in his cell, the Times man said his "conduct has not much varied since the verdict. He was a little graver … than at any previous time, but still insisted that everything would 'turn out all right.' He was supplied with all the Sunday papers, and spent the greater part of the day reading them."

  It seems uninspired. The Tribune man found a lot more to interest him: a good picture emerges from his report, a new look at another kind of Eckel. Eckel was standing outside his cell talking to a couple of officials when the Trib man arrived. The officials left, the reporter introduced himself, and Eckel "willingly entered into conversation on the all engrossing topic. He said he was very comfortable, and seemed marvelously calm and self-possessed…. His meals are sent in from a restaurant, and he has the privilege of a light at night if he wishes it. Newspapers, cigars and other luxuries are allowed him, and he says that with one exception he has experienced none but the kindest treatment…."

  In the interview that followed, the reporter asked what I wanted to hear, and got some pretty good answers. Eckel "admitted that the circumstantial evidence against the family was rather weighty, but he asserted his entire innocence and his full belief that the others now charged with the crime would be proved innocent… he denied that he went to the door that night, as Farrell charges…. The public excitement at this murder, he thinks, leads people to snatch too eagerly at every little circumstance that goes to substantiate their foregone conclusions, and … in their eagerness they lose sight of all probability, and cast aside whatever does not chime with their own opinions. In reference to Farrell's identification … he says that his picture had been hawked about in the streets, and his person described until he believed nine-tenths of the community would have no difficulty in pointing him out….