“San Francisco, September 25, 1911. Dr. S. W. Hopkins, President Board of Health, Lodi, Cal. Dear Sir: If you read my article in the Survey, I think there is much in it that you did not understand. Perhaps I did not make myself clear. I tried to. I wanted those who read the Survey article to believe that I at least no longer think we are going to better the world by punishing men individually. I do not feel that it is good for people or for the editor of the Pacific Christian to want vengeance administered to our brothers and sisters. I think vengeance, and by vengeance I mean punishment, makes us all worse rather than better. I have asked for mercy for Ruef because I felt that I, above all others, had done most to bring about his downfall. If you have followed the long fight the Bulletin has made during the past eight or nine years, you will recall that I was fighting Ruef long years before the city woke up. You will also recall that I attacked him bitterly with all the invectives that I could personally command, and all that I could hire. I cartooned him in stripes. I described him on his way to San Quentin; told how I thought he would act en route, and what his manner would be when the barber shaved his head, and how he would feel when locked up in a cell. I was vindictive, unscrupulous, savage. I went to Washington and enlisted Heney in the fight. Burns came, and Spreckels joined in the chase. Then I pursued with the same relentless spirit in the wake of these men. At last, after eight years of a man-hunting and man-hating debauch, Ruef crossed over and became what I had wanted him to be, what I had longed and dreamed that he might be—a convict, stripped of his citizenship, stripped of everything society values except the remnant of an ill-gotten fortune. It was then I said to myself: ‘I have got him. He is in stripes. He is in a cell. His head is shaved. He is in tears. He is helpless, beaten, chained—killed, so far as his old life is concerned. You have won. How do you like your victory? Do you enjoy the picture now that it is complete? You painted it. Every savage instinct in your nature is expressed on the canvas.’
“My soul revolted. I thought over my own life and the many unworthy things I had done to others, the injustice, the wrongs I had been guilty of, the human hearts I had wantonly hurt, the sorrow I had caused, the half-truths I had told, and the mitigating truths I had withheld, the lies I had allowed to go undenied. And then I saw myself also stripped, that is, stripped of all pretense, sham, self-righteousness, holding the key to another man’s cell. I dropped the key. I never want to see it again. Let it be taken up and held by those who feel they are justified in holding it. I want no more jail keys. For the rest of my life I want to get a little nearer to the forgiving spirit that Christ expressed.
“Isn’t what I am accusing myself of, true of all of us? Think it over. Think of your own life. Think of the lives of those around you, and see if you cannot discern that we are all guilty. And then think whether or not you believe that society will be benefited by denying Ruef a parole, which only gives him a half liberty and still holds him under the restrictions of the prison until his term is finished.
“I am surprised at the tone of the article you sent me, published in the Pacific Christian. It reads like a chapter out of the Old Testament rather than the New. But I fear that the world is being governed more upon the lines of the Old Testament than the New. I agree with the article about the young men who have been sent to prison for years. I would release them all if I could. But I can’t. I can’t even release Ruef, because society has not advanced far enough to make it possible. But I can at least be true to myself and express what I honestly feel.
“I wish as a favor to me that you would send a copy of this letter to the Pacific Christian, as I am leaving for the East and will not have time. I should like them to know what I am writing you. Sincerely yours,
“Fremont Older.”
The San Jose Mercury, controlled by Congressman E. A. Hayes, in its issue of September 22, 1911, published one of these Ruef campaign articles. The following description of Ruef occurs:
“Not many months have gone since Ruef found domicile in States prison. But what changes Time has wrought in that brief period. The little man sits in his cell, lonely and solemn, as he meditates on the singularities of mankind. With no bitterness in his soul, without a thought of revenge twisting his sense of peace and good will toward man, he passes the time planning the comforts of his fellow unfortunates and reading and rereading the letters that come so regularly from the loved ones whose burdens he so gladly carried and to whose joy he so gladly contributed. He is neither unhappy nor without hope.”
The same article contains another word picture—of Francis J. Heney. It reads: