Chapter XXV · The Shooting of Heney.

In spite of the sensational events following the trapping of Blake, the work of impaneling a jury to try Ruef went steadily on. After months of effort,[405] a jury was finally sworn to try the case.

Again the telling of the sordid story of the city’s betrayal commenced.

Gallagher, the pivotal witness, had begun his sorry recital. In the midst of it occurred what those who had followed the methods of the graft defense had long predicted.

Assistant District Attorney Heney was shot down.[406] The shooting occurred in open court during a brief recess.

Heney was seated at his place at the attorneys’ table talking with an assistant. The jury had left the courtroom. Gallagher had for the moment left the witness box and was standing a few feet from Heney waiting opportunity to speak with him. A few feet further away was Heney’s body guard. In the room were something more than 200 citizens waiting for the trial to be resumed. There was the usual confusion which attends a five-minute court recess. Court attaches, officials, attorneys, citizens were passing to and fro without hindrance.

The man who shot Heney had no difficulty in gaining access to the courtroom. He walked deliberately to the attorneys’ table, and before he was even noticed, had fired deliberately at the Assistant Prosecutor. The gun was held not more than six inches from Heney’s head. In an instant, Heney’s bodyguard was upon the assassin. But the bodyguard’s efforts came late. Heney, apparently mortally wounded, was lying unconscious on the floor, the blood gushing from a ragged hole in front of the right ear, just under the temple.[407]

Heney’s assailant was found to be one Morris Haas, an ex-convict, who had succeeded in securing a place on the jury at the former Ruef trial. Heney had exposed him.[408] When it was demanded of him why he had attempted to kill Heney, he murmured incoherently, that it was “for humanity’s sake.” Although closely questioned Haas would tell little of value to those who were seeking to get at the real motive behind the assault. He was thoroughly searched both by Detective Burns and Captain of Police Thomas Duke, and then taken to the county jail where he was closely guarded.

A short time before the shooting of Heney, Judge Lawlor had had attorneys of both sides before him to state that in his judgment, he should remand Ruef, who was out of jail under heavy bonds, to the custody of the Sheriff for the remainder of the trial. Shortly after this conference Heney had been shot down.

When the court had re-convened, and the jury had been dismissed for the day, Judge Lawlor carried out his intention and ordered the Sheriff to take charge of Ruef. The shooting had occurred on Friday afternoon, November 13. The court adjourned until the following Monday.[409]

Heney in the meantime had been taken to a hospital. There it was found that the wound was not necessarily fatal. The rumors current that Heney had been killed were denied. This tended to calm the excitement.

Nevertheless, San Francisco and all California were aroused as never before in the State’s history. In a twinkling, the results of months of misrepresentation, ridicule and abuse of the Prosecution were swept away. Haas’ bullet had not killed Heney,[410] but it had awakened the community to tardy realization of its responsibility.[411] Men who had laughed at the Examiner’s “Mutt cartoons“ ridiculing the Prosecution, now threatened to mob The Examiner office. Patrons of the defense-supporting Chronicle now voiced their utter condemnation of that paper. Thousands withdrew their subscriptions from the two publications. The time was ripe for the demagogue. An unpolitic word from the defense just then, an incendiary speech from some unwise partisan of the Prosecution, would have been sufficient to have sent a mob marching upon the jail in which Haas and Ruef were confined, or upon the residences of the indicted bribe-givers, or against the newspaper offices which for months had labored to make the Graft Prosecution unpopular.

There was a feeling that the criminal element was too powerfully intrenched to be reached through the ordinary legal channels. The feeling, which had subsided when the Graft Prosecution opened,[412] that the graft evil could not be corrected except by extra-legal means, was to some degree revived.

In this emergency, the leaders of the Graft Prosecution, by counseling moderation and observance of the law, did yeoman service in the keeping of good order in San Francisco.

The Citizens’ League of Justice[413] called a mass meeting for the Saturday evening following the shooting. Even in the call, the League urged there be no breach of the peace.

“Francis J. Heney,” the League’s call read, “has fallen by the hand of an assassin, shot from behind while fighting at his post in the cause of justice for the people of this city. He would be the first man to appeal to the calm reason of the citizens to preserve order and proceed only by the processes of law; to look not for vengeance, but to demand swift justice through the courts. We make the same appeal.”

Mayor Taylor presided at the meeting. Long before the hour set for the opening, the auditorium was packed to the doors, with thousands on the outside clamoring for entrance. Those in charge of the meeting were compelled to call it to order several minutes before they had intended.

Professor George H. Boke of the University of California Law School, and manager of the Citizens’ League of Justice, was to introduce Mayor Taylor. Several minutes before the time set for the meeting, the crowd started a cheer for Heney. The demonstration lasted for fully five minutes. Then some one started the cry, “Throw the Examiner out.” Hundreds half rose from their seats, their eyes bent upon the press table where representatives of The Examiner were seated.

Professor Boke at once grasped the significance of the movement, and acted on the instant. Stepping to the fore, he made a brief address introducing Mayor Taylor, thereby checking the threatened demonstration.

Mayor Taylor was quick to sound the keynote of the meeting. “Let us,” he said in introducing the first speaker, “see to it that no matter who else breaks the law, that we shall not break it.”[414]

Every speaker who followed the Mayor emphasized this. “Let us,” said the Rev. William Rader, “have heads which are cool and minds which are rational.”

“We stand in this fight,” said District Attorney Langdon, “for law and order. And I want to say to you and ask you to pass it on to your neighbors, that, as crimes have been committed, those crimes must be punished, but punished within the law. And I want to say further, that as the law officers of this city and county, we shall consider any man who expresses an opinion or sentiment that we ought to resort to measures extra-judicial, as an enemy of good government.”

“Why,” demanded James D. Phelan, “should we take violent steps? Is not San Francisco a great, civilized community? Are not our American institutions still intact? They are. And although in the early days of San Francisco the Vigilance Committee, an extra-legal tribunal, was resorted to for the purpose of correcting such abuses, we must remember that at that time we were a border State, at that time we were a mining camp. Only such a strenuous method would then have succeeded, because judges who were on the bench were elected by ballot-box stuffers, a council was elected in the same way. Crime was rampant, nobody was punished. Then the men of San Francisco organized a tribunal and gave an orderly trial to every offender whom they apprehended, and as a result this city was cleansed of crime and remained a model community for twenty years.

“But conditions now are different. It is true that within the last year there has been a feeling in this community that the criminal law had broken down, and that we could not, under the law, punish the offenders; and that the courts, the highest courts, abetted and aided criminals by the rankest interpretations, technical interpretations of the statutes. They refused to lean on the side of order and justice, and they have brought disgrace upon the judiciary of California, all over the world.

“But our civilization and our institutions are safe. That vote the other day, and the election of Judge Dunne, the election two years ago of Judge Coffey and Judge Lawlor, give us courage and confidence to believe that, under the constitution and the laws, we can win our battle if you only give us time, without any resort to violence; and we are willing, though one hundred days have passed, to pursue that work, because that is the only way we can do it under the constitution and the laws.”

When Rudolph Spreckels entered the building he was greeted with demonstration. He, too, while expressing great sympathy for his friend who had been stricken down, joined in counseling that nothing be done outside the law.

With the urging that no exhibition of mob-violence be added to the burden of the afflicted community, was given assurance that the Graft Prosecution should go on; that the laws should be upheld; that those responsible for the conditions which had been forced upon San Francisco should be brought to justice. Whatever danger there was of violence to members of the graft defense, vanished at that Citizens’ League of Justice mass meeting. At its conclusion, resolutions were adopted condemning the methods of the defense, declaring unwavering allegiance of those present to law, and pledging support in the cleansing of the city of grafters and boodlers.[415]

Another crisis had passed in San Francisco. The situation was not unlike that of two years before, when the clamor that drastic means be taken to free the city of Ruef’s domination, was silenced by announcement that Rudolph Spreckels had guaranteed a fund for the investigation of municipal conditions, and to prosecute those found to be guilty of corruption.[416]

But even as the citizens met in mass meeting another tragedy of the Graft Prosecution was enacted. Haas, under the eyes of policemen specially detailed to watch him, killed himself or was killed. With him died all hope of discovering who had urged him to avenge himself upon Heney.

Haas’ suicide, if it were suicide; or his murder, if it were murder; is one of the mysteries of the graft cases. He was shot with a derringer. The weapon was an inch through at the butt and 5-8 wide at the muzzle—certainly an easily discovered weapon by officers practiced in searching men. And yet, Haas had, before he was put in his cell, been thoroughly searched both by Captain Duke[417] of the police force and Detective Burns. The two officers are certain that Haas had no weapon upon him. And yet, one theory advanced by his keepers is that Haas had the derringer all the time concealed in his shoe. Another theory is that the derringer was smuggled in to him. But, with Haas under watchful eyes of special guards, by whom? Another theory, popular at the time, was that Haas had been murdered in his cell. But if murdered—or even if the derringer were smuggled in to him—what was the motive behind it? These are questions which, short of some death-bed confession, perhaps, are not likely to be answered.

Those who hurried to his cell at the report of the derringer found Haas dead. Whether he had shot himself or whether he had been shot, his lips were sealed forever.

On the Sunday following the shooting of Heney, most of the Protestant pastors of San Francisco made the attempted assassination the subject of their sermons. The same course was taken throughout the State generally. In the afternoon mass meetings were held in all parts of the State, at which resolutions were adopted condemning the methods of the defense,[418] and pledging support to the prosecution.

Telegrams[419] of condolence and of encouragement poured in from all parts of the country.

But in spite of this popular expression of sympathy, there were astonishing exhibitions on the part of the associates of those who had been indicted or nearly indicted because of the graft revelations, of feeling against Heney. For example, Rev. David J. Evans, of Grace Episcopal Church, on the Sunday following the attempted assassination, offered prayer for the recovery of the stricken prosecutor. Instantly there was commotion in the pews. Members of the congregation, by frown and toss of head, indicated their profound disapproval of their pastor’s petition.[420] But frown and head-toss and open disapproval of the pews neither stopped the prayer, nor prevented its answer. The prayer was offered; Heney did not die.

Within an hour after Heney had been shot down, three of the foremost lawyers at the California bar, Hiram W. Johnson, Matt I. Sullivan and Joseph J. Dwyer, volunteered their services to take up the struggle for civic righteousness at the point to which Heney had carried it.

But the attorneys for Ruef, having exhausted every other delaying move, saw in the shooting of Heney opportunity for further delay. They accordingly moved for change of venue. Failing here, a motion was made for thirty days’ delay. This being denied, Ruef’s attorneys moved that the jury be dismissed. This move failing, an attempt was made to examine the twelve men in the jury box to determine whether the shooting had prejudiced them and unfitted them for jury service. These many motions were backed up with affidavits containing all that had been said at the public meetings, and all that had been printed in San Francisco newspapers, since Heney had been shot. The reading of the voluminous affidavits consumed hours. The prosecution filed answering affidavits which also consumed time. But Judge Lawlor finally denied all the contentions of the defense and ordered the trial to proceed.

During these proceedings, the jury had been locked up in charge of the regular court officials. The jury had not been in the courtroom when Heney was shot, and from the moment of the shooting had been shut away from the public. But lest the jury had learned something of the shooting, and to account for Heney’s absence, Judge Lawlor deemed it incumbent upon him to notify them that Heney had been shot, and to admonish them that the transaction so far as the court, the jury, the defendant, the People of the State, the counsel, and all other interests interested or involved in the trial were concerned was to stand as though it had not occurred. This Judge Lawlor did.[421]

The trial itself was not unlike the other graft trials. The Supervisors told the story of their bribery. Gallagher told how Ruef had given him the money, and how he had given it to Supervisor Furey. Furey testified that he had received the money from Gallagher because of his vote to grant the overhead trolley permit to the United Railroads. The story had by this time become sadly familiar to the people of San Francisco.

The trouble experienced with witnesses at former trials characterized this trial as well.

Alex. Lathem, for example, at one time Ruef’s chauffeur, disappeared from the State about the time the trial was to begin. He was brought back from Oregon under extradition, charged with having accepted a bribe to leave the jurisdiction of the court. On the stand,[422] Lathem repudiated important evidence which he had given before the Grand Jury, and to which he had made affidavit. As a minor incident of the graft trials, Lathem, because of this incident, was indicted for perjury.

But in spite of the backwardness of certain of its witnesses, the prosecution succeeded in getting its case before the jury. The jury found Ruef guilty as charged. He was sentenced to fourteen years’ penal servitude at San Quentin prison.