p. 27 | Wm. M. Tweed

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jan 6, 1874

Wm. M. Tweed.

The most noted of modern swindlers and defaulters has finally met his reward, and, considering his crimes, his punishment is not severe. The city of New York, of which he was for some time the mayor by virtue of his influence with the lower classes, had great difficulty in bringing this man to justice. All that money and talent could effect was brought to bear in his defense; but the God of Heaven has strengthened the right, and justice is at least partially vindicated. Let good men thank Heaven that crime and lawlessness are not yet wholly licensed, even in New York. A powerful influence for good must follow the conviction of this prince of modern swindlers. The Commercial has the following interesting sketch of his commitment to jail, which it entitles “The Last Act.”

JOS. CLARK.

The old jovial, hearty manner which characterized him in the days of the Tammany Ring regime was gone, but still no spectator looking at him would imagine that he was conscious that in a brief hour he would be clothed in a convict’s dress and be in the company of outcasts and the scum of society.

A keen observer, however, could readily perceive, by an occasional tremor of the mouth and anxious glance of the eyes, that the wretched man, dissemble as he might, in his heart of hearts keenly felt the horror of his miserable situation.

To an intimate friend of his who accompanied him and kept with him to the last, he said: “Well, my enemies to-day have, I guess, pretty well exhausted their malice against me,” adding, with a faint attempt at a smile, “But perhaps I ought to be grateful to them for affording me the pleasure of a carriage ride and a sail.” The principal topic of conversation that occupied the attention of the party on the short trip between the pier and the island, was the prospect of speedily obtaining a stay of proceedings and an order for a new trial. Upon this subject they talked earnestly, and expressed the utmost confidence of a favorable issue.

The shrill whistle of the steamer broke in upon the discussion, and announced to the convict that he had reached the destined place of his abode for the ensuing twelve years of his existence. At this point, Tweed’s courage seemed to fail him, and his bloodshot eye and furrowed face showed that he was suffering terribly. As he passed along the gangway, his step was faltering, and his gait unsteady, and he kept his gaze steadily fixed upon the ground. He looked indeed like a man going to execution. The few spectators who witnessed the party coming on shore watched with eager curiosity the movements and appearance of the prisoner, and as he passed by them uttered remarks, coarse, jocular, or sympathizing, as their humor prompted.

While marching from the landing to the penitentiary, the prisoner kept whispering to his son, who, bowed down with shame and sorrow, walked by the side of his unhappy father. It is understood that the friends of the family did all in their power to persuade young Tweed not to accompany the party to the penitentiary, but that their entreaties were unavailing, Mr. Tweed saying that he would not desert his father until the prison walls shut him out from his sight.

At the entrance to the penitentiary the counsel and his attendant company were met by Warden Liscombe and his deputy, McDonald. Deputy Sheriff Shields informed the prisoner that the hour to part was come. Tweed said simply, “Very well,” and immediately shook hands with his friends, bidding them farewell. Then the last bitter trial to the convict’s feelings was come. With evident agitation he turned to his faithful son, and the two again and again embraced. Then Deputy Sheriff Shields formally handed over Tweed to the custody of Warden Liscombe, and the keeper McDonald, taking him by the arm, conducted him along the corridor leading to the barber’s shop, and in a moment he was lost to the sight of his friends. Immediately on entering the shop, he was placed before the desk, when the clerk proceeded to interrogate him.

In answer to the usual questions, the prisoner gave his name as William M. Tweed, his age as sixty, his occupation, a statesman, and affirmed that he had no religion. He was then asked what was the religion of his relatives, to which he replied, “The Protestant.” This criminal was accordingly put down as a “Protestant.” He was then weighed, and it was ascertained that his weight was 263 pounds. Afterward he was taken to the bath, as are all other criminals, and after a thorough cleansing, and the shaving of the head, he was arrayed in the usual penitentiary uniform. Tweed, it is stated, brought with him letters from two New York physicians, asserting that he was a fit subject for the hospital rather than a cell. Accordingly, an examination of the prisoner was made by Dr. Alexander E. McDonalds, chief of the medical staff of the island. The doctor, however, pronounced him fit for a cell, and he was accordingly at once taken to cell No. 34, second tier, which bears the usual card-board, on which are inscribed the name, age, and occupation, of the prisoner as given by himself, his offense, and the sentence meted out to him.

Upon resigning charge of Tweed, Deputy Sheriff Shields proceeded to the apartment in the prison known as the reception-room, in order to obtain from the proper officer a receipt for the body of his prisoner. Young Tweed accompanied him. During the time, while the receipt was being made out, the keeper, McDonald, came into the room, and, addressing himself to a boy in convict costume who had charge of the clothing department, said to him roughly, “What’s the matter with you to-day? you seem to be excited. Can’t you get me that larceny jacket?” at the same time going to one of the cells and taking down a striped flannel jacket and coarse shirt, with which he went out. The criminal’s unfortunate son, as he heard the words larceny jacket used by the keeper, turned deadly pale, a tremor shook him, and he staggered against the desk upon which, with bowed head, he was leaning. Not long after this incident, the announcement was made that the convict was in his cell, and one of the guards almost simultaneously declared that the boat was ready to start on her homeward trip. The deputies, accompanied by Mr. W. M. Tweed, Jr., and the representatives of the press, started for the boat, and in a moment were steaming down the river for Pier No. 26. On landing at the pier, Mr. Tweed and his friends entered the carriage in waiting for them, and were driven rapidly away.