Joe Hill (49 page)

“I want to die a martyr,” he had said before the board. “The cause I represent means more than any individual’s life, including my own.”

But what cause? Labor’s? If one could grant the premise of
a frame-up, yes, but Lund had never been able to grant that premise. He had been too close to Ricket and the forces which had created the whole myth. There was not a thread of evidence that anyone had even known who Joe Hillstrom was until Ricket himself began to go to work.

There was some deception, or self-deception, even in this final statement from the death house. Unhappily Lund bent his head and read the whole statement for the third time:

When I was up before the highest authorities of the State of Utah I stated that I wanted a new trial and nothing but a new trial, and I will now try to state some reasons why I am entitled to that privilege. Being aware of the fact that my past record has nothing to do with the facts of this case, I will not dwell upon that subject beyond saying that I have worked all my life as a mechanic and at times as a musician. The mere fact that the prosecution never attempted to assail my reputation proves that it is clean. I will therefore commence at the time of my arrest
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On the night of January 14, 1914, I was lying in a bed at the Erickson house in Murray, a town located seven miles from Salt Lake City, suffering from a bullet wound in my chest. Where or why I got that wound is nobody’s business but my own. I know that I was not shot in the Morrison store and all the so-called evidence that is supposed to show that I was is fabrication pure and simple. As I was lying there half asleep, I was aroused by a knock on the door. Somebody opened the door and in came four men with revolvers in their hands. A shot rang out and a bullet passed right over my chest, grazing my shoulder and penetrating my right hand through the knuckles, crippling me up for life. There was absolutely no need of shooting me at that time because I was helpless as a baby and had no weapons of any kind. The only thing that saved my life at that time was the officers inefficiency with firearms
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I was then brought up to the county jail where I was given a bunk and went to sleep immediately. The next morning I was pretty sore on account of being shot in three places. I asked to be taken to a hospital but was instead taken upstairs to a solitary
cell and told that I was charged with murder and had better confess right away. I did not know anything about any murder and told them so. They still insisted that I confess, and told me they would take me to a hospital and “treat me white” if I did. I told them I knew nothing of any murder. They called me a liar, and after that I refused to answer all questions. I grew weaker and weaker, and for three or four days I was hovering between life and death, and I remember an officer coming up and telling me that according to the doctors statement I had only one more hour to live. I could, of course name all these officers if I wanted to, but I want it distinctly understood that I am not trying to knock any officers, because I realize that they were only doing their duty. In my opinion the officers who were in charge of the county jail then were as good officers as can be found anywhere. Well! I finally pulled through because I made up my mind not to die
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When the time came for my preliminary hearing, I decided to be my own attorney, knowing that it could be nothing against me. I thought Yd let them have it all their own way, and did not ask any questions. When the court went into session, I was asked if I objected to having the witnesses remain in the courtroom during the trial, and I replied that it was immaterial to me who remained in the courtroom. All the witnesses then remained inside, and I noted that there was a steady stream of messengers going back and forth between the witnesses and the county attorney during the whole trial, delivering their messages in a whisper. When the trial commenced, there were first some witnesses of little importance, but then a man came up that made me sit up and take notice. He put up his hand and swore that he positively recognized me and that he had seen me in the Morrison store in the afternoon of the same day that Morrison was shot. I did not say anything, but I thought something. This man was a tall lean man with a thin pale face, black hair and eyes, and a very conspicuous black shiny mustache. I don’t know his name and have never been able to find it out. (Bear this man in mind, please.)

The little boy, Merlin Morrison, was the next witness that attracted my attention. He was the first one to come up and look at me in the morning of the day after my arrest. Being only a boy, he spoke his mind right out in my presence, and this is
what he said: “No, that is not the man at all. The ones I saw were shorter and heavier set.”

When he testified at the preliminary hearing, I asked him if he did not make that statement, but he then denied it
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I accidentally found a description of the bandit in a newspaper, however, and the description says that the bandit was 5 feet 9 inches tall and weighed about 155 pounds. That description seems to tally pretty well with Merlin Morrison’s statement, “The ones I saw were shorter and heavier set.” My own height is six feet, and I am of a slender build
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The next witness of importance was Mrs. Phoebe Seeley. She said she was coming home from the Empress Theater with her husband and she met two men in a back street in the vicinity of Morrison’s store. One of them had “small features and light bushy hair.” This description did not suit the county attorney, so he helped her along a little by saying, “You mean medium colored hair like Mr. Hillstrom’s, don’t you?” After leading her along that way for a while, he asked her this question: “Is the general appearance of Mr. Hillstrom anything like the man you saw?” She answered, “No, I wont … I cant say that.”

This is the very same woman who at the district court proved to be the star witness for the prosecution. She not only described me in the smallest details, but she also told the jury that the man she saw had scars on both sides of his face, on his nose, and on his neck. I have such scars on my face, and that was practically the testimony that convicted me. Just think of it, a woman not knowing a thing about the murder passing a man in a back street in the dead of a winter night, and six months later she describes that man to the smallest details, hat and the cut and color of his clothes, height and build, color of eyes and hair, and a number of scars, and when asked, “Is the appearance of Mr. Hillstrom anything like the man you saw?” she answered, “No, I wont … I can’t say that.” Her husband, who was with her, was not even there to testify. It is true that the prosecuting attorney put his questions in such a way that all she had to say was “Yes sir,” and “All the same, Sir,” but she said that just the same. With a hostile judge, and attorneys who acted merely as assistant prosecuting attorneys, the prosecuting attorney had what in the parlance of the street would be called “Easy sailing.”

The next witness was Mr. Zeese, detective. When I was sick in bed at the Erickson house in Murray, the lady gave me a red bandanna handkerchief to blow my nose on. At the trial she told that she had several dozen bandanna handkerchiefs that were used by her boys and brothers when they worked in the smelter. After my arrest Mr. Zeese went to the Erickson house looking for clues. He found this handkerchief, and with his keen eagle eye he soon discovered some “creases at the corners.” With the intelligence of a superman, he then easily drew the conclusion that this handkerchief had been used for a mask by some “bandit.” Then he capped the climax by going on the stand and telling his marvellous discovery to the judge. Mr. Zeese is well known in Salt Lake City, and comments are unnecessary
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The next witness at the preliminary hearing, Mrs, Vera Hansen, said she saw two or three men outside the Morrison store shortly after the shooting. She heard one of the men exclaim “Bob,” or “O Bob,” and she thought that my voice sounded the same as the voice she heard on the street, I then asked Mrs, Hansen this question: “Do you mean to tell me that you, through that single word ‘Bob,’ were able to recognize my voice?” Now I am coming to the point
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After the preliminary hearing I got a record of the hearings and took it to my cell in the county jail. I immediately discovered that it had been tampered with, that everything I had said had been misconstrued in a malicious way. It was a little hard to prove it at first but on page 47 I found the questions that I had put to Mrs. Vera Hansen, and there the tampering was so clumsy that a little child could see it. In the records the question reads like this, “Do you mean to tell me that you through the single word (mark, ‘single word’) ‘O Bob, I’m shot’,” etc. Four or five words. Here anyone can see that the official court records were altered for the express purpose of “proving” that someone was shot in the Morrison store. I then started to look for testimony of a man with a black shiny mustache but to my great surprise I could not find it anywhere in the records in spite of the fact that this man had positively recognized me at the preliminary hearing. No wonder this very dignified stenographer, Mr. Rollo, who is also stenographer for the supreme court, was shaking like a leaf when he put up his hand and swore that the records were “correct” in every detail
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The strange part of it is that the state supreme court in a statement prepared by them for the press are, so my attorney told me
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I am not allowed to see any papers) making the very same mistake. They say that Mrs. Vera Hansen said in her testimony, “O Bob, I’m shot,” which is not correct
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At the time when I was shot I was unarmed. I threw my hands up in the air just before the bullet struck me. That accounts for the fact that the bullet hole in my coat is four inches and a half below the bullet hole in my body. The prosecuting attorney endeavors to explain that fact by saying “that the bandit would throw one hand up in surprise when Arlin Morrison got hold of his fathers pistol.” He also states that the bandit might have been leaning over the counter when he was shot. Very well. If the bandit “threw up his hands in surprise” as he said, that would of course raise the coat some, but it would not raise it four inches and a half. “Leaning over the counter” would not raise it at all. Justice McCarthy agrees with the prosecuting attorney and says that throwing his hands up would be just the very thing that the bandit would do if the boy Arlin made an attempt to shoot him. Let me ask Mr. McCarthy a question. Suppose that you would some dark night discover that there was a burglar crawling around in your home, then suppose that you would get your gun and surprise that burglar right in the act. If the burglar should then reach for his gun, would you throw up your hands and let the burglar take a shot at you and then shoot the burglar afterward? Or would you shoot the burglar before he had a chance to reach for his gun? Think it over. It is not a question of law but of human nature. I also wish Mr. McCarthy would try to find if it is possible to raise a coat on a person four and a half inches in the manner described by the prosecuting attorney
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We will now go back to the bullet. After the bullet had penetrated the bandit, the prosecuting attorney says that it “dropped to the floor” and then disappeared. It left no mark anywhere as an ordinary bullet would. It just disappeared, that’s all. Now gentlemen, I don’t know a thing about this bullet, but I will say this, that if I should sit down and write a novel, I certainly would have to think up something more realistic than that, otherwise I would never be able to sell it. The story of a bullet that first makes an upshoot of four inches and a half at an angle of go degrees, then
cuts around another corner and penetrates a bandit and finally makes a drop like a spit ball and disappears forever, would not be very well received in the twentieth century. And just think that the greatest brains in Utah can sit and listen to such rot as that and then say that “Hillstrom” got a fair and impartial trial
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I have heard this case rehashed many times and I wish to state that I have formed my own opinion about this shooting. My opinion is this: Two or three bandits entered the Morrison store for the express purpose of killing Mr. Morrison. As they entered, both of them shouted “We’ve got you now!” and started to blaze away with automatic Colt pistols caliber .38, and having the advantage of surprise it does not seem reasonable that they would allow a boy to shoot them. The story about that remarkable disappearing bullet; the fact that the official records were changed for the purpose of proving that someone was shot in that store; all that goes to show that there is a decided lack of evidence to prove that anybody was shot in that store outside the two victims. Nobody saw the Morrison gun fired. Merlin Morrison ran in deadly fright into some back room and hid himself. In spite of the fact that he was almost scared to death he “counted seven shots” and that is supposed to be some more proof that the Morrison gun was discharged. Six shots were fired by the bandits and all the bullets found. But there had to be seven shots fired, otherwise there would be no case against me. The boy “counted seven shots” and that “evidence” is introduced by the state as “proof” that the Morrison gun was discharged. Any sensible person can readily see what chance a frightened boy, or anybody else for that matter, would have to count the shots when two bandits are blazing away with automatic pistols. There were some officers there who claimed that they smelled the end of the gun and that thereby they could tell that the gun had been recently discharged, but the gun expert from the Western Arms Company exploded that argument. He stated that it was a physical impossibility to determine with any degree of certainty at what time a gun had been discharged, in a case where smokeless powder is used, on account of the fact that the odor of powder is always there. Then there was that empty chamber in the Morrison gun. An officer testified that it was customary among police officers to keep an empty chamber under the hammer of their guns. Morrison used to be a sergeant of police, I was told
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