Sunday, 21st September 1913: Sheriff Mangum Will Run For Re-election, The Atlanta Journal
The Atlanta Journal,
Sunday, 21st September 1913,
PAGE 5, COLUMN 7.
Announces as Candidate and
Replies to Criticism of His
Treatment of Frank
Rumors to the effect that owing to advancing years Sheriff C.
Wheeler Mangum, would not again be a candidate for public
office, are set at rest today be his formal announcement of his
candidacy before the coming county primary.
Although the primary will not be held until next year two
candidates are already in the field against Sheriff Mangum, and
two others are said to be considering entering the race. In fact,
the race is already running full blast.
Owing to a recent illness, from which happily he has now
completely recovered, it was for a time rumored that Sheriff
Mangum would retire from active life, and that one of his present
deputies would head the ticket at the coming election.
Sheriff Mangum has now formally announced his candidacy,
however, in a lengthy statement in which he replies to certain
criticism in regard to his treatment of Leo M. Frank.
Sheriff Mangum's ticket, it is claimed, will receive practically
the unanimous support of the members of the Atlanta bar
because of the remarkably efficient administration of the affairs of
the office of Chief Deputy John Owen, and the other members of
his staff, who are going into a campaign with him again.
Sheriff Mangum's ticket, it is claimed, will receive practically
the unanimous support of the members of the Atlanta bar
because of the remarkably efficient administration of the affairs of
the office of Chief Deputy John Owen, and the other members of
his staff, who are going into a campaign with him again.
Sheriff Mangum, who has long been known as one of the
most popular men in the county declares, that he is confident that
his friends will again stand by him and that the coming election
will result in a victory.
PAGE 6, COLUMN 4
Sheriff C. W.
Mangum
Makes
Announcement
To the Citizens of Fulton County:
Now that the wave of excitement and heat of passion
incident to the Leo Frank trial has in a measure subsided I deem it
advisable to address a few words to the voters and the people of
the county relative to the many baseless, unfounded, and unfair
rumors which have been circulated about my treatment of the
county's prisoner, Leo M. Frank.
These rumors, many of which are too unreasonable to be
dignified with a reply or denial, have largely originated with my
personal and political enemies, solely for political purposes, but
they have been given such wide and such ingenious circulation
that I consider this statement necessary, not as a justification of
anything which I have done, but in order that those who have
listened to these rumors may understand the true facts in the
case; in order that the good citizens of the county will not be
misled by false statements originating with a few men who, for
gain or spite, are willing to attack a man for the simple
performance of his duty.
It has been said that I announced that I believe Frank
innocent of the charge against him. This I emphatically deny. I
have never made a statement of my personal belief in the case,
but have only quoted the prisoner, when I was requested to do so,
as saying himself that he was innocent.
C. W. MANGUM,
Sheriff Fulton
County:
During the trial I was criticized because I failed to handcuff
Frank when he was carried from the jail to the court house during
his trial. My enemies say that in doing this I violated the law. In
this they willfully misrepresent or show themselves densely
ignorant. The law requires the sheriff simply to safeguard his
prisoners, and this I have done.
Relative to my failure to handcuff Frank I say that it has
never been the custom of myself or my deputies in our five years'
service to the county, to handcuff a prisoner unless it was
absolutely necessary, and I take occasion to say that of more than
twenty who have been charged with murder during my
administration, only three"George Burge, George Quarles, and
Robert Clay"have worn steel cuffs, and these men were known
as desperate characters. Bain, Darden, Garner, Reeves, Copeland,
Vane, Matthews, McDonald, Parham, Camp, Folds and many
others charged with murder, have been allowed to walk to their
trials with un-manacled hands. Even negroes, when there is only
one or two to be moved at a time, are not handcuffed unless
there is some reason to believe that they will attempt to escape
or to do violence to the guard.
In other words, whenever it is possible, without running any
risk of allowing a prisoner to escape, we spare him the shame of
appearing on the streets with manacled hands, be he white or
black, Jew or Gentile. Of course, when a large number, often from
twenty to forty, prisoners are being brought to court by two or
three deputies, we find it necessary to manacle them in order to
prevent their escape, but never when there is only one prisoner
unless he is not only desperate but of such powerful build that in
single combat, he might overcome even an armed deputy. Frank
is a man of slight stature, a physical weakling.
I have also been criticized because I carried Leo Frank to and
from jail in an automobile, when other prisoners have walked
from the court of justice to the place of their incarceration. The
reason for the use of the automobile is simple and obvious. There
were many threats against the life of the prisoner and the
sheriff's office had received many anonymous communications
from people, who threaten to lynch Frank. Always there were
crowds gathered about the court house to see the prisoner, and
had I walked him to the jail he could have been surrounded by
people, some of whom might have attempted to do him harm; or
in the surrounding crowds there might have been friends, who
would have sought to liberate him.
Necessarily, I had to use an automobile to protect the
prisoner and to guard him effectively, otherwise everyone of my
deputies would have had to assist in guarding him, and they were
need elsewhere. This machine belongs personally to one of my
deputies and did not cost the county one cent.
My enemies have foolishly declared that I attend the Frank
trial very day because of a personal interest in the fortunes of the
prisoner, and that I had never before attended constantly on a
criminal trial.
Not only had threats of violence against the prisoner then
freely made, but there were many wild rumors that the Hillsboro
affair would be repeated in the Frank case, and that the judge and
other court officials were in constant danger.
While I did not credit these rumors I realized that never
before had there been such intense feeling, both for and against a
prisoner on trial in this county.
For that reason and that reason alone I attended constantly
on the trial. Had violence been attempted I would never have
forgiven myself, and the public would never have forgiven me, for
allowing my deputies to stand without a leader against a mob,
while I, the sheriff of this county, sat safe in my private office,
unable to reach the scene of action, and the scene of my duty
until it was too late to be of any actual assistance to my men. I
was there because it was my duty to be there and for no other
reason.
I have been criticized by many because they could not get
seats in the court room and the charge that I showed partiality in
this matter has been made. I deny the charge flatly and firmly. I
was sorry that every man in the county, who had any desire to
hear the trial could not do so, but space was very limited. That
the court room was not large is not my fault as I have no control
over it. I was instructed by the judge, and it is my sworn duty to
obey his orders to close the doors, when the seats in the room
had been filled, and this I did.
Doubtless some parties were allowed to pass in and out of
the room after the doors had been closed to the general public,
but I deny the charge that they were all friends of Frank. They
were attorneys, court officers, city detectives, policemen in plain
clothes and in practically all instances their presence in the court
room was necessary, and they had a right to demand and receive
admittance.
That the court was filled with men of the same race as the
defendant, I also deny. At practically every session there were ten
Gentiles to every Jew in the room.
It has been said that Frank has been allowed privileges at
the jail accorded no other prisoner. THIS IS A LIE AS PITIFUL AS IT
IS BASE. HE HAS BEEN ALLOWED THE SAME PRIVILEGES, NO
MORE OR LESS, ACCORDED EVERY OTHER PRISONER,
REGARDLESS OF HIS COLOR, RACE OR CREED.
Like the officials of the federal penitentiary of Atlanta, and
like all sincere students of criminology, I believe that as few
hardships as possible should be placed upon the man whom the
law has restrained of his liberty, and that prisoners should not be
made to suffer unnecessary indignities.
But I also believe that every prisoner should be accorded the
same treatment and discipline, and I can truthfully say that all
prisoners in the Fulton county jail, since it has been in my charge,
have been made to conform to the same rules and regulations.
Frank has had his meals sent to him from his home. I try to
make the fare of the prisoners wholesome and substantial, but it
is a rule that any prisoner whose friends or relatives desire to
furnish regular meals or special delicacies can receive them, and
this rule applies to negroes as well as white men.
If the friends of a prisoner, regardless of whom he is, care to
furnish him with books and magazines, he may have them . If a
prisoner is to be held for some length of time, and has the money
to purchase some bit of furniture, which cannot be used as a
weapon, to make his cell more comfortable, he can have it. This is
a general rule, applicable to every prisoner alike. In the Fulton
county jail there are not special rules made for one man or set of
men. I try to do everything in my power, consistent with the same
keeping of the men, to make their stay at the Tower at least
comfortable.
It has been charged that I have shown Frank partiality by
allowing his friends and relatives to visit him. In his connection I
wish to say that in this, like everything else, he has been made to
conform to the rules of the jail, and his friends and relatives have
been allowed to visit here just as the friends and relatives of
every other prisoner have been allowed to visit the Tower. If a
prisoner does not desire to receive visitors I comply with his
wishes in the matter.
I have been condemned by some because I refused to allow
city detectives to question Frank over his protest. I want to say
here and now with all emphasis at my command that I have
NEVER KNOWINGLY ALLOWED A PRISONER IN THE TWOER TO BE
PUT THROUGH THE THIRD DEGREE BY ANYBODY, AND I NEVER
WILL SO LONG AS I HOLD OFFICE. I thus throw down the gauntlet;
let him take it up who will"be he chief, captain or private. That
my position in this matter is right is shown by the fact that only
recently the court of appeals of this state has handed down a
decision condemning the Third Degree and declaring evidence
secured by means of it is valueless in a court room.
In connection with my administration of the jail, those who
are familiar with conditions have declared the work of myself and
deputies as remarkably efficient. This is largely due to the fact
that all of the deputies on duty there work on ly eight horus per
day instead of twelve hoursa s under former administrations.
While this requires more men, and curtails the amount of money
which I personally derive from the office, the result has made me
glad that I have adopted this policy, and I have the knowledge
that more working men, laboring conscientiously eight hours a
day, are sharing in the revenue of this office now than ever
before.
The rumors about the sheriff which were current during the
Frank trial are too numerous to mention in full. I did not try to
deny them then, when passion and prejudice was at its height,
but now in order that no part of the public may eb misled by false
rumors, I make this statement and clearly and emphatically state
he has not received more privileges than other prisoners, but in
some cases not as many.
My record is clean and clear. I have tried to do my full duty
at all times, and nothing but my duty.
If the good people of Fulton county think that I am wrong in
treating all prisoners decently and humanely or in refusing to
allow them to be subjected to the third degree or other
indignities, I am willing to stand by their verdict, and accept
without rancor defeat at the coming primaries. However, I may
add that I am fully confident of re-election to the high office I now
hold, the duties of which I have done my utmost to discharge
without fear, favor or affection.
In the past I have been supported by an earnest and
conscientious corps of deputies, and if there are any changes
made in their personnel the public may rest assured that it will be
done for the public good and not for political effect.
As above indicated, I am a candidate for re-election as
sheriff of Fulton county, looking backward to a clean and
honorable record, going forward with full confidence that the good
people of Fulton county are not yet ready to rebuke and cashier a
man for doing his sworn and bonded duty. With thankfulness in
my heart for past support, and with a consciousness of duty done,
I earnestly solicit your support and influence in the next primary.
Very Respectfully Yours,
C. W. MANGUM.
Sept. 20, 1913. (Advt.)
PAGE 29, COLUMN 1
Paul Donehoo
Atlanta's Blind
Coroner
BY WARD S. GREENE
A CHILD of three lay in his white cot and cried because he
was afraid of the dark. A moment before and the little room had
been yellow with lamp light; now the dread unknown lurked in the
black shadow that penned him close. They had taken the light
away.
Two years later a child of five fell ill. On the third day, as he
lay listless on the hot pillow, the light went out again, never to
return. They told him he was struck stone blind.
Blindness is ever a tragedy, but it is a pitiful and
incomprehensible thing for fate to seer the blue eyes of a little
child. Only the week before his whole world was the world of the
blue sky and the green trees; now he was muffled in the dark he
knew would never go.
When Dick Heldar, Kipling's great hero, felt the light go out,
he said, Let's curse God and die. Though the child of five did not
speak them, his thoughts must have been much like those of Dick
Heldar's, yet once the first horror of the blackness passed, once
he had peeled himself to face the sightless future, in the pitch
night that covered him, he found the bright star of hope.
Today that star of hope has brightened until the man who
was the child of five, sees it luminous before him, blazing a path
through the future, rimmed only by a seat to the United States
senate.
Congress! That is the goal of ambition for Paul Donehoo,
stone blind since meningitis griped him twenty-three years ago
and plunged him into the dark. The coronership of the city of
Atlanta he feels is but a stepping stone in the making of a
statesman.
BATTLE OF THE BLIND.
How the child of five battled with blindness until he
conquered it in so far as to make him a man among men, is a
story the whole of which Paul Donehoo himself and he alone can
ever know. And the last chapter perhaps is yet to be written.
It was a day in May, 1890, when Paul Donehoo felt the light
go out. A few weeks later he was a student in the Academy for
the Blind at Macon, where men, women and little children are
given new eyes in their finger tips and sixth sense for the one
that's vanished. Many years later he was to serve on the board of
inspectors of that same institution, appointed to the office by
Governor Joseph M. Brown.
For eight years Paul Donehoo went to school. There he first
began the training of the memory which has since become his
greatest and most marvelous asset, and there, too, there came to
him the first of his plans for the future, music as a profession.
Later the young graduate of the blind academy entered
Mercer university, where for three years more he took a special
course which still further stiffened the bulwarks of the brain which
now so seldom tricks his memory.
He left Mercer feeling that in music he had found his life
work. The germ of it had always been to him, the blindness had
served merely to intensify it. Even as early as three years of age,
he had taken a prize in Sunday school for singing and today he
can listen to the sound of a far-off bell, go to the piano, and sound
the bell note on the keyboard.
So, he came back to Atlanta, the city of his birth, here
further to perfect himself in the calling he had chosen. The years
of study were followed by years of teaching. The years of study
were followed by years of teaching. The young blind man who
played the piano with such skill, soon became a prominent figure
in Atlanta musical circles, and before long Paul Donehoo had
more pupils than he could teach.
WHERE MEMORY FAILED.
Music teaching for the blind is a task to try the metal of a
Hercules. Before Paul Donehoo could teach a single piece to a
single pupil, he himself must have that piece note by note at his
fingers' end. Then indeed did that sturdy memory stand him in
good stead. But even it, gigantic though its powers were, was not
enough.
Every new pupil meant a new piece. And new pieces spelt
ever longer and wearier hours of grueling memory work. He found
his train seething with a myriad of notes and phrases. He was
vanquished.
Besieged though he was with the stress of his occupations,
the mind of Paul Donehoo, music teacher, yet found time to
harbor dreams of another and far different sphere of activity. At
the very time the demands of his profession were the greatest he
discovered that he had been stung by the bee of politics. Like his
father before him, he determined to cast his lot with those most
interested in municipal Atlanta. He decided to run for coroner.
No sooner had this idea flashed itself upon him than he
acted upon it. Giving up entirely his career as a music teacher,
the young man announced his candidacy. Hardly before setting
foot on the course, he was victor in the race, and Fulton county
for the first time in its history had a blind coroner.
Not only unique in the annals of Fulton county, it is believed
to be unprecedented in any other county in the United States.
Over in South Carolina today there is a blind coroner, but this man
came into his office only after he had heard of Paul Donehoo and
his success, had written here to find if it was really true that one
could be blind and a coroner as well, and learning that it was
indeed possible had determined to try his chances, and had been
successful. It was Paul Donehoo who taught his fellow prisoners of
the dark a new lesson in cusses.
CAREER AS CORONER.
Some there are who doubt the wisdom of having a blind
coroner. Yet even these cannot but admire Paul Donehoo's
handicapped career in that capacity. The law allows a coroner to
receive pay for not over 150 inquests a year. In not one county in
the state are this many recorded during any twelve months save
in one county, Fulton. The first year of Coroner Donehoo's service
he had an even 150 inquests, and every year since then the
number has passed this mark.
One hundred and fifty inquests will more than prove the
word of a man possessed of every sense and faculty. For one
without eyes, they are doubly tedious and exacting. Yet, Paul
Donehoo has buckled to his task with zeal and has even
surpassed many of his predecessors in the office in his
painstaking efforts.
For one thing, he has made an innovation in the taking of
evidence. Other coroners have depended on subordinates to take
down the evidence in cases. Not so coroner Donehoo. He is his
own stenographer.
Even men who have served on his juries, time and again
watch him with admiration and even envy at each new inquest.
The witness tells his story, a long and rambling one, perhaps. At
its conclusion the proceedings stop for a bit while Coroner
Donehoo addresses himself to his typewriter, snaps a sheet of
long paper through the holder, and wades into the keys with
nimble fingers. The spectators eye him in appreciative silence as
he hums through line after line, gives a last slash and rip at the
spacer, and zips up the sheet of paper. On it is as clear and
correct a transcript of the witness' testimony as an expert
stenographer, taking shorthand notes at every stage of the story,
could have spliced together. The memory has served him well
again.
It was but a short nine months after he had been elected
coroner the first time"he is now serving his third term"that Paul
Donehoo decided he could take a little time for other things.
Some say that switching from music to law is like bridging the gulf
between heaven and the other place; yet that is exactly what Paul
Donehoo did.
HARDEST TASK OF ALL.
He entered the Atlanta Law school. Now indeed had that
Herculean memory grappled with its twelfth labor. Music was
child's play for his mind compared to the task of mastering the
intricacies, word for word, of the law. References which other men
in his class could look up again and again he was forced to hear
once and file away in the index system beneath his skull. Briefs
that others drew and read he had drawn that he might get them
by heart. Yet did he succeed.
In two years' time the requisite course, he got his degree,
was a full-fledged lawyer. He and a fellow student, went into the
partnership which they still maintain.
Attorney Donehoo has set himself the hardest task of all. His
place as lawyer, well though he fills it, is beset with difficulties.
Again, must he turn to that memory for aid. His every pleading
must be committed to memory. Others read them in court, he
speaks them.
He has traveled alone from town to town about Georgia
trying cases. But a few weeks ago he went to Cartersville, arriving
there alone in the dead of night. Yet he was fully capable of
taking care of himself, turned up at court O. K. the next morning,
took his pleas from his mind and told them to the judge, and won
his case.
Student, teacher, coroner, attorney, all are but the notches
which Paul Donehoo hopes will be cut below bigger and deeper
ones in the stick of fame. The largest and deepest before him is
his ambition for the United States senator-ship. Come when it
may, he will find his memory backing him in the fight for it. This
he asks himself: if Senator Gore, another blind man, could attain
the goal, why cannot I?
THE SIXTH SENSE.
Sitting the other day in his office in the Third National bank
building, Paul Donehoo declared that his memory was the
greatest asset a blind man can have. There is another, he said,
what might almost be called a sixth sense.
When I am walking along the street, he explained, I can
feel a clay bank in front of me long before I reach out my hand
and touch it. I can take a cane and tap every telephone post I
pass just as I get opposite it. The other senses help me, especially
in getting around the city. When I pass a drug store I can always
tell it by the odor coming out.
Same way with sounds. Many people have wondered how I
could get aboard a street car without knowing what the sign said.
Well, I know the exact schedules of every car in town. Here's my
watch, closed case, with the crystal gone. I can feel and tell
exactly what time it is. For instance, it's now six and a half
minutes to 3 o'clock. If I was down
(Continued on Page Nine.)
PAGE 31, COLUMN 4
PAUL DONEHOO, ATLANTA'S BLIND
CORONER
(Continued from Page Eleven.)
town now and heard a car coming I would know just which one it
is.
I at one time could tell them by the sound they make, and I
can know a little. The West Peachtree cars always made a
different sound because they were larger and longer. Of course,
there are many cars just alike now and the schedules are often
wrong, so I'm bound to make mistakes.
When I'm on the car I can always tell just about where we
are by the notes. I know each curve in many of the tracks. I can
tell when we pass certain corners by the clank of the switch or the
swell of the wheels in the track. And at Baker street there is
always a different sound because the car passes through a wider
space right there. And by the Candler building I can always feel
the swift wind on my cheek and know just where are.
MUSICAL AIR MEMORY.
He was asked about his ear for music. Can you hear a piece
and then sit down at the piano and play it?
He can do better than that, said his partner. You can call
off the names of the notes to him and he'll sit down and play
them. Once he had to memorize a piece of music thirty-five pages
long. He started working on it at 4 o'clock Saturday afternoon,
and by the same time Sunday afternoon could play it.
Do you hear that bell ringing down stairs? said Paul
Donehoo. The dull clang of an engine bell came up faintly from
the railroad tracks. If you'll go to the piano and strike E! you'll
reproduce that sound.
If you'll notice, he continued, All the street car gongs in
this town are pitched in exactly the same tone, or within one or
two notes of each other. I can recognize a good many of them
and tell what cars they're on, and I can tell the cars by the ring of
the push buttons, too.
To him the world seems to be a world of sounds, of smells, of
touch, of taste, with that other indefinable thing that some call
instinct and some a sixth sense. Asked what the world looked like
to him as he remembered it last, Paul Donehoo knew but faintly.
REMEMBERS RED.
The last thing I remember, I think, is an old horse that I
went driving behind the day before I got sick. As for the rest of
the world, I can't say. I have just a faint recollection of colors. I
think blue, red and green are the only ones that I know now. If
you say that brown book over there' the word brown' just means
a word for distinguishing it in description to me. It doesn't convey
any sort of picture to my mind. Red is really the only color of
which I have a very vivid memory. I think I remember that only
through fire. I guess I've got the best recollection of that old
horse. I still go horse-back riding. It's my favorite exercise, just as
it was Senator Gore's.
No, he said, I haven't tried anything else yet except
music, law, and politics. Of course, I know about other things,
many things that come-up in a practice, such as a medicine and
measurements in engineering cases. You see, I've made my rule
what Hooper Alexander said were the requirements of a well-
educated man, One that knows everything about something, and
something about everything.'
PAGE 32, COLUMN 7
FEE BARRED
AT
MUSICAL
ASS'N
SUNDAY
RECITAL
Mrs. John M. Slaton's
Conference
With Chief Beavers
Fails to
Obtain Special
Dispensation.
An echo of Atlanta's recent Sunday movie war was heard
Saturday night when it became known that City Attorney Mayson
had ruled against the Atlanta Music Association charging
admission to a Sunday concert on October 5 in the Atlanta
Theater.
At the same time was solved the mystery of the visit to the
police station Thursday afternoon of Mrs. John Marshall Slaton,
wife of Georgia's Governor, and her long secret conference with
Police Chief Beavers.
Mrs. Slaton, as president of the music association, was
seeking information as to whether, under the Sunday laws, it
would be permission for the association to charge a small
admission fee to the concert.
Explains Plan to Chief.
Although the moving picture theaters were not allowed to
open on Sunday and charge admission, Mrs. Slaton thought
perhaps that the character of concert to be given by the musical
association would not come in the same class.
To be sure of her ground, Mrs. Slaton drove to the police
station in her auto Thursday afternoon and took up the matter
with Chef Beavers, explaining to him in detail the plans of the
association and asking if there would be any objection by the
police to a small admission fee.
The Chief next sought a ruling from the City Attorney. Mr.
Mayson studied the proposition carefully and reported that the
only hope for the music association to realize on the concert
would be to place a contribution box in the theater and receive
voluntary offerings, as did the movies when they started their
futile fight to operate on Sunday. He ruled that the law would not
permit a regular, stated admission fee.
Whether the contribution box plan will be adopted by the
musical association will be determined later.
Serious Problem Arises.
Officials of the association have been put to great expense in
preparing for the concert on October 5, and this is the only reason
an effort was made to charge admission. It merely was a desire to
defray expenses.
Mrs. Slaton is expected to immediately take up the matter
with other officials of the association and report the ruling of the
City Attorney in order that some other plan may be devised.
The Atlanta Music Association has taken a recognized place
in the artistic life of Atlanta, and means much for the city's
educational development owing to the high standard it has
sought to maintain, it is under heavy expense, and the decision
barring admission fees creates a serious problem.