A JURY-BRIBING PLOT.
Hardly had the Court adjourned when the State's Attorney commenced the investigation which, as he had declared a few moments before, demanded his presence. The outer door of his office was locked from the inside, while a stalwart officer stood on guard. In a room across the hall a half dozen officers were stationed to prevent the approach of strangers. Assembled in the office were Judge Longenecker, Luther Laflin Mills, Messrs. Hynes, Ingham and Kickham Scanlan, Assistant State's Attorneys Neeley, Elliott, Baker and Glennon, Chief of Police Hubbard and Captain Schuettler. At one time and another a score of detectives hurried from one room to another, receiving instructions, going away in pairs and returning with some man or another who would disappear behind the doors to emerge no more. It was four o'clock in the morning before the investigation was suspended. Three hours later it was resumed. At ten o'clock a special grand jury was called by Judge Horton. It assembled at twelve. Ex-Mayor John A. Roche was appointed chairman. The body retired to its room and for nearly twelve hours was engaged in an inquiry on the star-chamber order. More than a score of witnesses were examined, and, just as the clocks of the city were chiming the hour of midnight, the members of the Grand Jury entered the Court and returned indictments against six individuals for conspiring to thwart the ends of justice by endeavoring to bribe jurors in the Cronin case. These individuals were Thomas Kavanaugh, steam-fitter; Alexander L. Hanks, court bailiff; Mark L. Soloman, court bailiff; Fred W. Smith, hardware agent; Jeremiah O'Donnell, gauger; Joseph Konen, fruit dealer.
The mystery that enveloped the proceedings of the previous day was now dispelled. The tentacles of the devil fish had reached into the court of justice. The desperation of the mysterious power behind the five men who were on trial for their lives for the murder of the Irish physician had reached a climax. From the moment that the prisoners had first faced Judge McConnell, their attorneys had waged a stubborn and a bitter war against the veniremen passed by the State. Eight jurors had, however, been selected. The peremptory challenges of O'Sullivan, Burke, Coughlin and Kunze had been exhausted, and Beggs alone of all the prisoners possessed the right of exercising the power of peremptory dismissal. All this time the mighty and unseen power behind the prisoners and behind the lawyers was hard at work. It had never been still from the time that the doom of the physician had been sealed. Its machinery had ground him to death and been then torn down, built up again, and set in motion to conceal the gory corpse. The shafting encircled the entire boundary within which a juror could be drawn, and the leviathan proportions of the murderous machine could not be measured until a cog had dropped out here and there and been carried to the office of the State's Attorney. The machine had assisted in the escape of Cooney. It had tried its best to get Martin Burke far beyond the reach of the clutches of the law. It had inspired the police officers of the State to ignore their duty. It was probably, at that very time, instructing possible witnesses in the art of perjury. It had gone farther and had actually attempted to suborn by bribes the men who had been summoned as jurors in the trial in progress.
The facts, as narrated first to the State's Attorney and later to the Grand Jury, admitted of no controversy. George Tschappatt, a German, who for ten years had been employed as foreman of an extensive lard manufactory, had been one of the veniremen approached. His wife was a friend of Mark L. Soloman, a bailiff of the Criminal Court. He was summoned as a venireman on Monday, and was present at the court room Tuesday, but was not examined. On Wednesday morning Soloman encountered him in the ante-room awaiting his turn to be called. Approaching him with extended hand, he said:
"Hello, Tschappatt, what are you doing here?" And then slapping him on the shoulder continued: "Have you been summoned as a venireman?"
Mr. Tschappatt replied that he had, and was anxious to be excused, as he could not spare the time to sit on the case.
"Come outside and have a drink," resumed Soloman. Taking Tschappatt by the arm they adjourned to a neighboring saloon. While they stood at the bar sipping a glass of beer, Soloman said:
"Tschappatt, you must have a pretty hard time of it to get along and support a family. How would you like to enter a scheme where you could make a thousand dollars?"
Tschappatt innocently replied that he was in on it. "How is the money to be made?" he asked.
Leading Tschappatt over to one corner of the saloon, the bailiff revealed the scheme.
"I'll tell you what I want you to do," he said. "Get on the jury, if you possibly can, and there's a thousand dollars in it for you if you stick out for an acquittal."
Tschappatt immediately tore himself away from the bailiff's grasp, and replied emphatically that he would have nothing to do with it.
"You ought to know me well enough, Soloman," he said, "to know that no amount of money could bribe me to defeat the ends of justice. If the prisoners on trial are guilty of what they are charged with, I say hang them, and everybody else who is connected with the conspiracy. No, sir; you can't bribe me, and you ought to know that."
With this the venireman attempted to get away from the bailiff, but Soloman held on to him with a vise-like grasp.
"Don't be a fool, Tschappatt," said Soloman, "you're a poor man, and ought to know that a thousand dollars is not to be picked up every day. Now, listen to me, and I'll show you how you can make it and nobody will ever be the wiser. If you properly answer the questions put to you by the lawyers you will in all probability be passed and sworn in as a juror. Now, I'll see that you get the money—leave that to me. Of course the money won't be given to you, but your wife will get it, so it will be all the same. On a certain day that you will appoint she will appear in court wearing a certain dress that you will designate. By that you will know that she has received the money, and if she doesn't wear that dress you will know the reverse. But don't let that trouble you. She'll get the money.
"Soloman," said Tschappatt, "what kind of a man do you take me for? You first ask me to sell myself and then you want to drag my wife into it. I have a good mind to knock you down. You deserve it."
"Well, there's no use getting hot about it," said Soloman. "I thought I was doing you a good turn, and only that we have known each other for years I would not have put a thousand dollars in your way. But you can do just as you please about it—accept it or reject it. If I were you, however, I would consider the proposition. It will be many a long day before you get a chance again to make a cool thousand."
Tschappatt replied that he would not entertain the matter for a moment, "and if I had known this was the reason," he said, "that you called me out I would not have come."
They then returned to the criminal court building, Soloman still talking about the proposition.
Tschappatt rejoined the other veniremen who were waiting in the ante-room, but did not utter a word of what had passed between him and the bailiff. At noon time, when the court took a recess until 2 o'clock, Tschappatt went back to the place where he was employed and worked hard to catch up for the time he had lost. He returned to the criminal court a few minutes before 2 o'clock. Soloman was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.
"Where have you been for the past two hours?" was the greeting from the bailiff. "I have been looking all over for you. Did you consider that proposition I made you?"
Tschappatt told him that he had not, and tried to brush him to one side so he could go up-stairs into the ante-room. Soloman stopped him, and then offered him $5,000 if he would get on the jury and stand out for acquittal. This is the language he used:
"We have got to have you on that jury, and you can't get out of it. Think of it—$5,000 for a few days' work. Are you a fool that you won't accept it?"
"I gave you my answer this morning, Soloman, and I make you the same reply now. I will not accept. All the money in Chicago could not induce me to do as you want me. Now, let me pass on up-stairs?"
"Don't say anything about this," was the bailiff's injunction, and he followed Tschappatt up into the court-room.
The five bailiffs, one of whom was Soloman, went over to the jail and brought the prisoners into court. Soloman sat in a chair behind Kunze.
About the middle of the afternoon Tschappatt was brought in from the ante-room and took his seat in the jury-box. In answer to the questions from the attorneys he said he had formed opinions regarding the case, and did not think he could give the prisoners a fair trial. He had visited the Carlson cottage, he said, and talked with some one there about the case. The court excused him for cause.
During the examination of Tschappatt Soloman kept his eyes on him continually and was greatly agitated, evidently fearing that he would tell the court about being approached. When he left the box, however, he took his secret with him.
As good fortune would have it, on leaving the court room Tschappatt encountered his employer, Benjamin V. Page, to whom he told this story. By the latter it was communicated to Mr. Mills, and the prosecuting officials, with the consent of the court, immediately commenced the investigation already alluded to. Soloman was sent for and at first emphatically denied the accusation that had been made against him. Confronted with the honest German, however, he was forced to admit his guilt, and make a full statement of his connection with the conspiracy. From his pocket he produced a slip of paper on which was a list of names and addresses of jurors whom it was thought could be influenced by money, and a comparison showed that it contained the names of several men who were on the special venire, and at that time waiting to be examined. This list, Soloman said, was given to him by Hanks, one of his fellow-bailiffs. Upon being interrogated this individual was also compelled to admit his connection with the affair.