Capital punishment is simply the commission by the State of an act which is regarded as a horrible crime if committed by an individual. One man must not kill another man, but several men vested with official titles can hold a conference and send a soul to eternity. The State says: "You must not kill; but if you do, I will kill you." This theory of a State's power or duty owes its origin to the lowest class of barbarians in the early history of the world. Their logic, if it may be called that, sprang solely from a spirit of revenge. The idea that a legal execution would deter others from committing murder probably never occurred to them. Their crude minds did not rise above the thought that the victim should be avenged, and that adequate vengeance could be found only in the hangman's noose or the guillotine.
There are a thousand other practices originating with barbarians which the footsteps of civilization and progress have crushed. But capital punishment, the worst heritage of the dark ages, lingers with us, betraying one of the spots in humanity where the veneer of civilization is thin. I am inclined to think that the spirit of revenge still is the ruling motive back of the legal execution, even though pleas are made in its behalf which barbarians never thought of. They could not very well think of such punishment as a curb to more murders, for even they could not help seeing that the beheading and quartering of offenders had no such effect. The legal execution has no such effect today, a fact which any fair-minded man will recognize after proper investigation. And if that plea falls down, as it does and must continue to do, what defense of the legal killing of our fellowman is left us? The moment we are convinced that the number of murders is on the increase, or does not decrease, in spite of the rope and electric chair, we will have to justify capital punishment on some other ground. What is that other ground, if it is not the old savage impulse of meting revenge—a species of revenge, at the last analysis, confers no good whatever upon society as a whole, and is of no consolation or comfort to the family circle most affected by the original murder?
Arizona has taken most advanced ground upon social and economic questions, and while the old territorial law, permitting capital punishment, is still on the statute books, it must be remembered that statehood has been in operation less than a year, and that the first State Legislature was overwhelmed with work during the comparatively short session prescribed by the Constitution. I am confident that public sentiment in Arizona is opposed to capital punishment. During the special session of the Legislature, which will be held early in 1913, an effort will be made to repeal the old law. If the Legislature is too busy to give the matter attention, or is disinclined to assume the responsibility, the initiative provision of the State Constitution will be invoked, thus putting the question square up to the people. I have no fears for the outcome. Arizona citizenship has proved itself too intelligent to lag behind the advanced thought and progress of civilization.
Geo. W. H. Hunt,
Governor of Arizona.
Indiana Reformatory
Inmates Subscribe for Pipe Organ
Each one a Carnegie in proportion to his ability to give, a majority of the 1,204 inmates of the Indiana Reformatory yesterday voluntarily contributed toward the purchase of a pipe organ for the handsome chapel of the institution, the total offerings approximated $900. When the contribution cards were checked up by the Rev. W. E. Edgin, chaplain of the reformatory, he was surprised at the generosity shown by the inmates. The individual sums given ranged from 25 cents to $35.
When Gov. J. Frank Hanly was a guest at the Reformatory recently he was asked by Mr. Edgin as to the best plan to pursue to get from Andrew Carnegie a contribution sufficient to buy a pipe organ. Gov. Hanly replied that this sum could be raised in Indiana, and he started the list with $100. It then occurred to Mr. Edgin to ask voluntary contributions from the inmates, and permission was given by Supt. Whittaker. Cards were left in each cell, with blanks for subscriptions, but it was distinctly stated that all offerings should be entirely voluntary. A great many of the inmates bring money with them to the Reformatory, and this, with that which they earn by overtime work, which is considerable, is credited to them.