For The Thrill Of It Part 17

DARROW HAD LISTENED PATIENTLY as Joseph Sbarbaro asked Archibald Church questions about the mental condition of Nathan and Richard. Now it was his turn. The neurologists had had only one opportunity to examine the boys, Darrow began, and they had come into court arguing that their examination-on Sunday, 1 June, in the office of the state's attorney-allowed them to claim that neither boy suffered from mental disease. But how, Darrow asked, could they have examined Nathan and Richard under conditions that were far from ideal? Darrow himself had been in the anteroom to Crowe's office that Sunday afternoon, trying to get access to the boys; he had seen for himself the to-and-fro of the police sergeants, the stenographers, the psychiatrists, and various functionaries. How had it been possible to have determined the boys' mental condition under those circ.u.mstances? as Joseph Sbarbaro asked Archibald Church questions about the mental condition of Nathan and Richard. Now it was his turn. The neurologists had had only one opportunity to examine the boys, Darrow began, and they had come into court arguing that their examination-on Sunday, 1 June, in the office of the state's attorney-allowed them to claim that neither boy suffered from mental disease. But how, Darrow asked, could they have examined Nathan and Richard under conditions that were far from ideal? Darrow himself had been in the anteroom to Crowe's office that Sunday afternoon, trying to get access to the boys; he had seen for himself the to-and-fro of the police sergeants, the stenographers, the psychiatrists, and various functionaries. How had it been possible to have determined the boys' mental condition under those circ.u.mstances?

"Now, there were," Darrow asked Church, "some fifteen people in the room while you were talking to these boys?"

"I think," Church replied cautiously, "hardly that many, but there were many, I know that."

"Too many," Darrow suggested, "for a thorough consultation?"

"Too many," Church admitted, grudgingly, "for an ideal consultation."

"You never had anybody bring you a patient to treat where you called in any such number of people as that, did you?"

"Occasionally it is very difficult to keep all the members of the family out."

"I asked you a specific question," Darrow responded tartly, his voice rising slightly.

"No, I never treated a patient in private practice-" Church paused, reluctant to concede Darrow's point; "-examined a patient before as many people."

"You have laid down the rules yourself as to how a private examination should be conducted, have you not?"

"Well, I control the situation under those conditions."

"Did you ask any questions?"

"Yes."

"Who did most of the questioning?"

"Really, there were very few questions asked," Church glanced momentarily toward Hugh Patrick and William Krohn, sitting behind the state's attorney and his a.s.sistants. "Dr. Patrick asked a few and Dr. Krohn asked a few and Mr. Crowe asked a few, but most of it was continuous narrative on the part of Mr. Loeb and some questions asked him by Leopold and some back and forth conversation between them...."20 "Did you ask any questions to find out evidence of mental disease?"

"No."

"Did anybody else that you know of?"

"Well, all of the questions and conversations were for the purpose, as far as I was concerned, of determining their mental status."21 In other words, Darrow concluded, the examination had been entirely superficial, so superficial as to render it worthless. There had been perhaps fifteen people in Crowe's office during the examination-could it even be properly called an examination? he wondered-and yet the state's witnesses persisted in saying that they had evaluated Nathan and Richard! The examination had lasted a mere three hours, and none of the neurologists, according to Church, had even asked questions designed to elicit evidence of mental disease!

Had Darrow known, he could have asked whether Church had carried out the routine tests that neurologists customarily used when evaluating defendants. By the 1920s, physicians had devised well-known procedures for determining lesions of the nervous system. Church could have used an esthesiometer, a needlelike instrument designed to measure tactile sensibility and to test for damage to the peripheral nervous system. He could also have used a dynamometer, an instrument for measuring muscle strength and movement, useful in detecting signs of decreased muscle tone (hypotonia), symptomatic of cerebellar lesions. And even if the state's experts had not had such instruments at their disposal during the examination, it would have been possible for them to have tested for ataxia (a loss of balance due to lesions of the cerebellum) by requiring Richard and Nathan to perform simple walking and standing exercises.

Roentgenology also had become an accepted procedure in neurological diagnosis. It had become possible, as early as 1910, to map the central nervous system by X-rays; and by the 1920s, physicians had learned to detect tumors of the spinal marrow with the aid of X-rays.

The lumbar puncture-the insertion of a fine needle into the lumbar inters.p.a.ce of the spine to collect a sample of cerebrospinal fluid-enabled neurologists to calculate pressure measurements of the cerebrospinal fluid and to draw off a sample for biochemical and serological a.n.a.lysis. By 1924, the lumbar puncture had become the most common diagnostic technique favored by neurologists to test for tabes dorsalis, a form of syphilis that results in the degeneration of the dorsal columns of the spinal cord.22 That Darrow knew nothing of such diagnostic procedures and their use in neurological examination did not prevent him from pushing forward his attack on the state's testimony. Church had been a coauthor, with Frederick Peterson of Columbia University, of the textbook Nervous and Mental Diseases Nervous and Mental Diseases, long the standard work on neurological disorders and their treatment. Darrow had a copy of the most recent edition, the ninth, on the table before him. He picked up the book, a heavy volume with black covers, and turned toward Church to read his words back to him. "This is your latest on this subject," Darrow began "and you have said here: 'The examination of a patient with mental disorder is a much more complex process than that of a case of physical disease.... For it is necessary in the former not only to ascertain the present physical condition, as with ordinary patients, but also to investigate the mental state, which involves the employment of unusual and new methods and brings us into contact with a novel series of psychic phenomena, and moreover to attain our end we need to study the whole past life of the patient, his diseases, accidents, schooling, occupation, environment, temperament, character; nor can we stop here; for it is of the greatest importance to inform ourselves as to conditions among his antecedents to determine the type of family from which he sprung, and the presence or absence of an hereditary taint. There is therefore much to learn even before seeing the patient in person.'"23 Darrow paused. He looked from the book to the witness. "And you did not learn that before seeing them, surely?"

"I did not," Church replied, "have the opportunity."

Church explained that the state's attorney had called him at midday on 1 June. He had not had the time to prepare for the examination. And in any case, Church continued, his coauthor, Frederick Peterson, had written the words that Darrow had quoted. The preface, Church explained, stated that Church had been responsible for the sections on neurology and that Peterson had contributed the second section on psychiatry.

It was an evasive response. Darrow pointed out that Church would not have put his name to a book if he had disagreed with the contents. Did he agree with the words that Peterson had written on the procedure for a psychiatric examination? "Doctor, don't you think," Darrow asked, "you share in the responsibility, when you let nine editions go out?...And you would not question what I have been reading as being correct, would you, that is, as being proper in the examination of a patient, would you?"24 But Church refused to concede Darrow's point. Frederick Peterson had written the words quoted by Darrow-and he, Church, was not responsible for that section of the book.

"Just a moment," Robert Crowe interrupted, appealing to the judge. "I object to cross examining upon a textbook, a portion of which-and the portion that he is being cross-examined on-he did not write, and disclaims any responsibility for.... You can only cross-examine him on something that he has based his opinion on in this case." How could Darrow cross-examine the witness on something that Church had not written? And, in any case, Crowe continued, the words that Darrow had quoted had not been introduced into testimony on direct examination.25 It was an inconclusive argument. But Darrow had already made his point. Church had had insufficient opportunity for a proper examination of the defendants. He could not plausibly a.s.sert that Richard and Nathan were free of mental disease.

OTHER WITNESSES FOR THE STATE had no recourse but to concede that the inadequacy of the examination was the weakest link in the state's case. There had been insufficient time on 1 June for the psychiatrists properly to evaluate the mental condition of Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb. Benjamin Bachrach, in his cross-examination of Hugh Patrick, pushed the witness to accept the same inevitable conclusion: that the brevity of the examination, along with the conditions under which it had taken place, nullified any judgment the state's psychiatrists might make. There had been at least fifteen people in the room at the time of the examination-how could any a.n.a.lysis of any value be obtained under such conditions? had no recourse but to concede that the inadequacy of the examination was the weakest link in the state's case. There had been insufficient time on 1 June for the psychiatrists properly to evaluate the mental condition of Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb. Benjamin Bachrach, in his cross-examination of Hugh Patrick, pushed the witness to accept the same inevitable conclusion: that the brevity of the examination, along with the conditions under which it had taken place, nullified any judgment the state's psychiatrists might make. There had been at least fifteen people in the room at the time of the examination-how could any a.n.a.lysis of any value be obtained under such conditions?

Just how many people, Bachrach asked Patrick, had been in the room that afternoon? Ten? Fifteen? Or perhaps as many as seventeen?

"I suppose," Patrick answered cautiously, "there were about ten people there or something like that. There may have been more."

"Don't you think," Bachrach responded, "there were about fifteen?"

"No, I shouldn't think there were fifteen, but it was possible."

"Let us count them," Bachrach spoke decisively, armed with the confidence that came from knowing the answer to his question. "There were the state's attorney and three a.s.sistants. That is four."

"Four, and the two prisoners make six," Patrick agreed.

"Six."

There had been three psychiatrists and one physician present as well as several police officers-perhaps there had been as many as fifteen persons in the room.

"And four doctors are ten," Patrick conceded reluctantly. "Well it might go to fifteen...."

"And two stenographers?" Bachrach demanded impatiently.

"Yes, two stenographers. I guess it would reach-"

"About seventeen?"

"Well, I don't think so, but I don't know."

Bachrach smiled, flushed with victory. "Did you ever in your life," he asked with mock incredulity, "make an examination of any person, as to his mental state, under circ.u.mstances of that kind before?"

"I think not."26

HAROLD D DOUGLAS S SINGER, PROFESSOR and chair of psychiatry at the University of Illinois, succeeded Patrick on the witness stand. Singer, a tall, gangly man with a distinctive British accent, had studied medicine at St. Thomas's Hospital in London before moving to the United States in 1904 to become an a.s.sociate professor of neurology at Creighton University. Singer had stayed in Nebraska only three years before moving to Illinois as director of the State Psychopathic Inst.i.tute. He had taken up his present position at the University of Illinois in 1919. and chair of psychiatry at the University of Illinois, succeeded Patrick on the witness stand. Singer, a tall, gangly man with a distinctive British accent, had studied medicine at St. Thomas's Hospital in London before moving to the United States in 1904 to become an a.s.sociate professor of neurology at Creighton University. Singer had stayed in Nebraska only three years before moving to Illinois as director of the State Psychopathic Inst.i.tute. He had taken up his present position at the University of Illinois in 1919.27 Singer had read the Bowman-Hulbert report and had met briefly with Nathan and Richard in the state's attorney's office; he had been a constant presence in the courtroom and had heard the evidence presented by both sides. There had been nothing in the testimony, he stated in reply to a question from Milton Smith, a.s.sistant state's attorney, that would indicate mental disease in Leopold and Loeb. Indeed, the evidence presented in court argued against the presence of mental illness. The planning of the murder, the preparation of the alibis, the disposal of the body-all showed that Nathan and Richard had had sufficient mental acuity to calculate and to organize, and in that sense they were normal.28 What about the psychoa.n.a.lytic evidence introduced by the defense psychiatrists? Did Richard's fantasy that he was a master criminal have any significance in a.s.sessing the character of the crime? Fantasy, Singer replied, was a means of satisfying wishes that could not otherwise be fulfilled. "The phantasy life of an individual," Singer explained, "represents the striving of certain longings or appet.i.tes for expression, being prohibited by the social conditions under which he lives, more or less. The phantasy life, therefore, represents the dreaming of his longings as being fulfilled. It is a way of meeting desires which is permissible in society because it will not lead to difficulties." Richard's fantasy-a career as a master criminal-indicated merely a desire for excitement. Nathan's fantasy-as a powerful slave to a grateful king-represented, according to Singer, h.o.m.os.e.xual desire.29 Clarence Darrow listened attentively. There was a book on the table in front of him, and occasionally, as Singer continued to talk, Darrow thumbed through it absentmindedly. It was a copy of Singer's Insanity and Law: A Treatise on Forensic Psychiatry Insanity and Law: A Treatise on Forensic Psychiatry, cowritten with William Krohn and published earlier that year. Darrow had read the book and prepared his questions; soon he would begin his interrogation of the witness.

Milton Smith had now finished his examination; he had no further questions. Darrow, his left hand hooked behind one gallus as though to prevent it from snapping back, approached the witness stand, holding his copy of Singer's book in his right hand. Was it not true, Darrow began, that Singer had written in Insanity and Law Insanity and Law that mental illness often lay dormant, unseen, until precipitated into visibility by the stress of circ.u.mstances? Some individuals coped successfully with the demands of everyday life; in such cases, mental disease might never reveal itself. Others, according to Singer, succ.u.mbed to external conditions in ways that revealed what had previously been hidden. that mental illness often lay dormant, unseen, until precipitated into visibility by the stress of circ.u.mstances? Some individuals coped successfully with the demands of everyday life; in such cases, mental disease might never reveal itself. Others, according to Singer, succ.u.mbed to external conditions in ways that revealed what had previously been hidden.

Darrow started to read from Insanity and Law Insanity and Law, glancing occasionally at the witness. "'It would,'" Darrow began, reading back to Singer, "'be a mistake to a.s.sume that every person with a schizophrenic trend is going to develop a psychosis or become insane. Very many never do so at all, possibly because the complexes that are split off do not involve a very large part of the man's personality, or because the conditions under which he has to live do not make demands that he cannot meet sufficiently well.... One of the subgroups of dementia praec.o.x comprises such individuals under the name of dementia simplex. They do not often come under the observation of the psychiatrist and have but little importance.... It is readily intelligible, however, that the outbreak of a psychosis is especially liable to occur when special demands in the way of responsibility and direct contact with the real world are made. One such period is that of leaving school and emanc.i.p.ation from home control.'"30 Singer had described latent schizophrenia and had characterized the conditions under which the schizophrenic patient might become psychotic-did not his description apply accurately to Richard Loeb? Singer had also described the onset of psychosis; it manifested itself, according to Insanity and Law Insanity and Law, in a series of violent acts, apparently random and unforeseen, for which the psychotic individual showed neither remorse nor regret.

Darrow resumed reading from the book he held in his right hand: "'The outbreak is sudden, unexpected,...and apparently without motive; a truly impulsive and unconsidered act. The man's att.i.tude toward the deed after its accomplishment is devoid of remorse. It is almost as though he fails to accept authorship, he is not a free agent, and he apparently often experiences considerable relief after the act is performed.'" Was that not also an accurate description of the murder of Bobby Franks? Neither Richard Loeb nor Nathan Leopold had had any reason to kill a fourteen-year-old boy; and the murder had been unexpected and unforeseen; and neither Richard nor Nathan had expressed any remorse for their deed. On the contrary, both boys had adopted a c.o.c.ky, dismissive att.i.tude toward the murder.31 Darrow had hoped to force Singer into a contradiction-between, on the one hand, the a.n.a.lysis presented in Insanity and Law Insanity and Law and, on the other, the claim that both boys were free of mental illness-but the attempt could not be sustained: the terms of the debate were too imprecise. Singer always managed to find some qualification that helped shift the meaning of his words; and, in any case, too little was known of the defendants to match description with reality. Neither the experts for the state nor those for the defense had been able, in their descriptions on the witness stand, to capture the essence of those two inscrutable boys. Darrow's psychiatrists had spent weeks examining Nathan and Leopold, yet their inner characters seemed as elusive as ever. Crowe's experts had resolutely persisted in proclaiming the normality of the defendants, but how could such claims be sustained when neither boy felt regret for such a crime? and, on the other, the claim that both boys were free of mental illness-but the attempt could not be sustained: the terms of the debate were too imprecise. Singer always managed to find some qualification that helped shift the meaning of his words; and, in any case, too little was known of the defendants to match description with reality. Neither the experts for the state nor those for the defense had been able, in their descriptions on the witness stand, to capture the essence of those two inscrutable boys. Darrow's psychiatrists had spent weeks examining Nathan and Leopold, yet their inner characters seemed as elusive as ever. Crowe's experts had resolutely persisted in proclaiming the normality of the defendants, but how could such claims be sustained when neither boy felt regret for such a crime?

Darrow had undoubtedly undercut the state's claim that Nathan and Richard were normal; it was apparent that the state's experts had conducted a superficial and largely meaningless examination. Yet Darrow had won no concessions from the state; none of the witnesses had conceded any sign of mental illness in the defendants.

NOW THE HEARING HAD REACHED its conclusion. Each side had presented its evidence. The defense had demonstrated the character and extent of the mental illnesses that inflicted Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb. It would not be just for the judge to exercise the extreme penalty of the law on two defendants so clearly afflicted with mental disease. its conclusion. Each side had presented its evidence. The defense had demonstrated the character and extent of the mental illnesses that inflicted Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb. It would not be just for the judge to exercise the extreme penalty of the law on two defendants so clearly afflicted with mental disease.

The state had made its case also. It would be preposterous to mitigate the punishment on the grounds of mental illness. The defendants were entirely rational. They had shown no signs of impairment either before or after the crime, and now, inside the courtroom, they appeared normal. Capital punishment was entirely appropriate in such a case.

It remained only for the judge to hear the closing statements from each side. It seemed that both defense and prosecution had already said all they wanted to say-there was surely nothing new to add. But Robert Crowe was to give the final summation, following immediately after Clarence Darrow, and Crowe had prepared a surprise that would catch the defense unawares. And Crowe had the final word-it would not be possible for the defense to rebut his allegations.

15 CLOSING STATEMENTSTUESDAY, 19 A 19 AUGUST 1924T 1924THURSDAY, 28 A 28 AUGUST 1924 1924The penalty under the laws of the State of Illinois for aggravated, deliberate murder, is death.... If this is not an aggravated deliberate murder on the facts as they are before the court, if this is not a murder of the extreme type on the facts, then of course a lesser penalty can be invoked; but when, as here, the greatest turpitude, months of detailed planning, careful execution of every detail, a money motive, a kidnaping for ransom, the deliberate murder, the cruel blows of a sharp steel chisel, the gagging, the death and the hiding of the body all appear as they do in this case, the malice and deliberation take the crime out of the scale of lesser penalties and prescribe death.1Thomas Marshall, a.s.sistant state's attorney for Cook County, 19 August 1924I want to say, your honor, that if we do not hang these two most brutal murderers, we might just as well abolish capital punishment, because it will mean nothing in our law.... Murder must stop, and the only way you will stop murder is by hanging the murderers; and if your honor hangs these two murderers, it will set an example to the others, if we have any of them among us, that justice is swift, and that justice is sure, and that if they fail to live up to the letter of the law they will receive the extreme penalty of the law.2Joseph Savage, a.s.sistant state's attorney for Cook County, 21 August 1924 WALTER K KRAUSER WAITED AT THE corner of Halsted and West 47th streets. It was a cold December morning, just one week before Christmas 1922, and Krauser could feel the wintry chill penetrating his thin jacket. He stamped his feet in a futile attempt to keep warm and cursed his friend, Bernard Grant, for his want of punctuality. corner of Halsted and West 47th streets. It was a cold December morning, just one week before Christmas 1922, and Krauser could feel the wintry chill penetrating his thin jacket. He stamped his feet in a futile attempt to keep warm and cursed his friend, Bernard Grant, for his want of punctuality.

Both boys-Krauser was nineteen; Grant, eighteen-lived in Back of the Yards, a notorious slum area, in dilapidated ramshackle terrace houses built at the turn of the century for the stockyard workers. Both boys had criminal records: Krauser was a petty thief, known to the police for a string of burglaries; Grant had been arrested a dozen times already, once in connection with the murder of Frank McGurk, a police sergeant shot during a payroll robbery. Both boys were unemployed and looking for work, but even at the height of the Christmas season, there were no jobs for two unschooled illiterate teenagers.3 The second boy finally appeared, and they started south, down Halsted. It was still only seven o'clock, too early in the morning to be looking for work; the storekeepers had not yet begun to unlock their shutters and open for business.

They drifted haphazardly from street to street. There was no plan; they did not, if truth be told, even know how to begin looking for work or where to find it.

The streets were still relatively deserted in the morning darkness; dawn had just broken and only now were the storekeepers throwing up the blinds and shutters. Krauser touched the revolver in his jacket pocket and ran his index finger down the barrel. Perhaps, he thought, it would be easier to rob a store than to find a job.

Krauser stopped his companion in front of the Atlantic and Pacific Tea Store at 5361 Morgan Street. Through the front of the store, they could see the manager, Daniel Gla.s.s, moving around behind the counter, stepping up and down a short ladder, stacking cans on the shelves above him.

Krauser and Grant peered again into the store, more intently this time, to look beyond Gla.s.s into the interior of the store, to see if he was alone. Grant nudged his accomplice with his elbow; the store was empty. As they pa.s.sed through the doorway, Krauser drew his gun from his jacket and held it in his right hand.

They had no intent to kill; they only wanted the cash in the register. Krauser held Gla.s.s at gunpoint while Grant searched for the money in the cash drawer. Krauser ordered the manager to the back of the store-if they could find some rope in the storeroom, they would tie him up and make good their escape.

Inside the storeroom, unaware of the drama that was making its way toward him, Ralph Souders sat reading the morning newspaper. There had recently been a rash of robberies of A&P stores in the area. Souders, a probationary policeman, was about to begin the morning shift guarding the store. His gun lay on a chair beside him; his right hand held a cigarette.

As Krauser entered the storeroom, he suddenly saw the policeman. Grant was following close behind. Krauser barked out a warning to his accomplice, "Get the copper's gun!"

Souders looked up in surprise. His cigarette fell to the floor as he jumped up, away from his chair. The policeman grabbed for Krauser's gun; the three men struggled together in the middle of the room and suddenly there was a loud explosion-the gun had gone off, and two more shots were fired in rapid succession.4 Ralph Souders, who was killed, left behind a young widow, Mary, with one young child and a second expected the following April. Detectives picked up Krauser and Grant that evening, and within hours both had confessed to the murder of the young policeman.5 The court sentenced both boys to hang, but appeals to the Illinois supreme court delayed their execution. By August 1924, twenty months after Souders's death, Krauser and Grant still waited on death row for the final disposition of their cases.6

ON T TUESDAY, 19 A 19 AUGUST 1924 1924, Thomas Marshall, a.s.sistant state's attorney for Cook County, stood in front of John Caverly in the sixth-floor courtroom in the Criminal Court Building. The hearing on Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb was almost concluded; the state had questioned its last witness, and now Marshall was presenting his closing statement on behalf of the state. Thomas Marshall, a.s.sistant state's attorney for Cook County, stood in front of John Caverly in the sixth-floor courtroom in the Criminal Court Building. The hearing on Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb was almost concluded; the state had questioned its last witness, and now Marshall was presenting his closing statement on behalf of the state.

What sort of justice, Marshall demanded, would prevail in Chicago's courts if Krauser and Grant went to the scaffold while Leopold and Loeb escaped with a prison sentence? The Criminal Court had sentenced Walter Krauser and Bernard Grant to death for the killing of a young policeman, but there had been no forethought, no premeditation, in their act. Neither Krauser nor Grant had been aware that Ralph Souders was on the premises; they had intended merely to rob the store. The shooting had been incidental to the robbery. "There was," Marshall explained, "no deliberate original intention to commit the murder of that police officer. There was no thought of the murder of that police officer."7 And what, Marshall asked, of Leopold and Loeb and the murder of Bobby Franks?

Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb had plotted and planned the murder for six months. They had been meticulous in their preparations, preparations that had included the use of alibis and false ident.i.ties and the rehearsal of the scheme to obtain the ransom. There had been nothing impulsive about the killing of Bobby Franks. Few crimes in the history of Chicago, Marshall stated, had shown as detailed preparation and premeditation as the murder of this fourteen-year-old boy. Yet Darrow dared to ask for mitigation of punishment!

At the time of the killing, Krauser and Grant were both young men-nineteen and eighteen years old, respectively-but, apart from their youth, they were as unlike Leopold and Loeb as one could imagine. Krauser and Grant had grown up in the squalid slum district known as Back of the Yards, west of the meatpacking plants on the South Side. They had known only poverty and dest.i.tution; both had come from broken homes; they had had no schooling worth the name; both were illiterate. Their original crime, the robbery of the A&P store, Marshall suggested, had been born almost of necessity, and the murder of the policeman had been an unseen consequence.

What a contrast, Marshall exclaimed, with those pampered, wealthy, self-indulgent killers, Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb! Leopold and Loeb had breezed through life, with all the advantages that money could buy. Their parents had showered them with all the luxuries they could desire.

Bernard Grant had not even fired the gun that had sent the bullets into Ralph Souders. And yet now he sat in his cell, awaiting execution on 17 October. How, Marshall exclaimed, could the court not give Leopold and Loeb the same sentence-death by hanging-that Grant had received?

"Shall Grant, who killed a police officer in a struggle in a robbery in that store...go to the gallows...when men of the same age, of greater education, of better opportunity, can deliberately plan and scheme a murder and kidnaping for ransom for months and months, carry it into execution and by any possibility escape that penalty? Grant...committed an atrocious crime, but in comparison the crime at bar revolts whereas Grant's crime can be understood."8 Darrow had asked that his clients' age mitigate the punishment. But many youths in Cook County-some younger even than Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb-had received the death penalty for murder, and none had killed with comparable deliberation.

David Anderson, a nineteen-year-old executed for murder in 1908, was a case in point, Marshall explained. Anderson had been present when a companion, Albert McGagg, had shot and killed a plainclothes detective on the street. At his trial, the state had failed even to show that Anderson had drawn his revolver. Nevertheless, the court had found Anderson guilty of murder and had sentenced him to death, a verdict later upheld by the Illinois supreme court.9 Nicholas Viani, a member of the Cardinella gang, was only seventeen years old when he killed Andrew Bowman, a saloon keeper, during the robbery of a restaurant on Ca.n.a.l Street, near the factory district. Perhaps, Marshall suggested, a clever and resourceful lawyer might have appealed in that case for mitigation of punishment, just as Darrow had. Salvatore Cardinella, a thirty-nine-year-old Sicilian, had initiated Viani into a life of crime. Cardinella was a notorious f.a.gin, infamous for his ability to manipulate young boys; Viani, who ended his life on the scaffold, was one of the less fortunate boys drawn into Cardinella's spiderweb. How, Marshall demanded, could one compare Viani's crime-a bungled robbery that turned, in a moment, without premeditation, into murder-to the deliberate and calculated killing of Bobby Franks?10 Marshall continued to read from his list of men executed by Cook County for murder. Thomas Schultz, nineteen years old; Thomas Errico, nineteen; Leonard c.r.a.po, nineteen; William Yancey Mills, twenty-one; Dennis Anderson, twenty-one; Andrew Williams, twenty-two; John (Smiling Jack) O'Brien, twenty-two; Frank Camponi, twenty-two; John Henry Riese, twenty-two. All had ended their lives swinging from the beam of a scaffold in the Cook County jail, yet none of them, not one, Marshall emphasized, had planned his crime with as much deliberation as Leopold and Loeb in the killing of Bobby Franks.11 If Leopold's and Loeb's youth did not mitigate the crime, then what of Darrow's plea that their mental condition should save them from the gallows? Marshall reminded the court that the defendants had pleaded guilty to the murder. Both, therefore, had admitted responsibility. But responsibility for an action was not divisible; in law, a defendant was either responsible or, alternatively, bore no responsibility at all. The defense had admitted responsibility and, with its admission, had conceded that Leopold and Loeb were eligible for the penitentiary. And if they were eligible for the penitentiary, they were equally eligible for the gallows.

The court, Marshall argued, should impose its sentence not in consideration of the mental condition of the defendants-"their fate is determined not by weak mind or phantasy, delusion, or mental disease"-but with regard to the gravity of the offense.12 Murder was punishable in Illinois by a sentence of death, by life in the penitentiary, or by a prison sentence not less than fourteen years. The state legislature allowed judicial discretion in the determination of punishment. But that discretion, Marshall reminded Caverly, should give effect to "the will of the law, not the will of the individual.... By judicial discretion is meant sound discretion guided by law, not an arbitrary discretion, never exercised for the purpose of giving effect to the will of the judge, always for the purpose of giving effect to the will of the legislature, or, in other words, to the will of the law."13 And in the case now before the court, the crime was so flagrantly willful, so deliberate and premeditated, that Caverly, if he were to give effect to the law, had little choice but to impose the death penalty. The killing of Bobby Franks was unique, Marshall claimed, in the degree of preparation and forethought that had preceded it; and the callousness of the act, an act committed more as an intellectual exercise than as a crime of pa.s.sion, gave the murder an especially horrific aspect. There were no mitigating circ.u.mstances; there were abundant aggravating circ.u.mstances; and both defendants, moreover, had confessed their guilt and admitted responsibility! The murder cried out for the death penalty; any other sentence would be a travesty.

"A fourteen year old helpless school boy lured by deceit into the automobile, by two stout robust young men, bent upon murder, bent upon kidnaping for ransom, for Ten Thousand Dollars in old bills; lured into that car, seated in the front seat to talk about a tennis racket with his friend, whom he had known for a long time; and while he is facing forward in that car, talking about a tennis racket, he is beaten upon the head with a steel chisel, and his life crushed out at the hands of two strong young men,-a helpless boy."

Marshall had already spoken for almost two days-his voice was hoa.r.s.e-and now he had almost finished. "There is nothing in Illinois jurisprudence that compares with it. It cannot be found on the books.... And so upon the whole of the record, compare all of the Illinois cases I have cited from the beginning down to this moment, and nowhere in any of them will you find the premeditation, the deliberate malice, the cunning plans, the months of preparation, the thought, the science, the ability.... There is only one sentence that can be imposed upon these vile culprits.... Any lesser penalty than the extreme penalty of the law under such circ.u.mstances and upon the record in this case, would make a mockery of the law itself."14

WALTER B BACHRACH, IN HIS RESPONSE for the defense, replied that Thomas Marshall was wrong to say that the defense had advanced mental illness to dilute the responsibility of Nathan and Richard for the murder. Bachrach seemed to have a calming influence on the courtroom; his manner, as he stood before the bench, was thoughtful, even scholarly; his sentences, precise and neat, seemed designed to dissect Marshall's erroneous logic; and his voice, smooth and silky, drifted through the warm, moist air of the courtroom, lulling his audience into agreement. The defense admitted full responsibility for the crime, Bachrach stated; what other conclusion could one draw from a plea of guilty? And responsibility was not, of course, divisible; one could not be partially responsible for an action. for the defense, replied that Thomas Marshall was wrong to say that the defense had advanced mental illness to dilute the responsibility of Nathan and Richard for the murder. Bachrach seemed to have a calming influence on the courtroom; his manner, as he stood before the bench, was thoughtful, even scholarly; his sentences, precise and neat, seemed designed to dissect Marshall's erroneous logic; and his voice, smooth and silky, drifted through the warm, moist air of the courtroom, lulling his audience into agreement. The defense admitted full responsibility for the crime, Bachrach stated; what other conclusion could one draw from a plea of guilty? And responsibility was not, of course, divisible; one could not be partially responsible for an action.15 But the judge, Bachrach continued, had a duty and a right to consider the circ.u.mstances of the murder when deliberating on the appropriate punishment. The Illinois legislature had provided the court with discretion in fixing the penalty for the crime. It expected the court to examine the condition of the murderer in sentencing him. A man who had killed the seducer of his wife might, for example, have acted in a jealous rage, out of sudden anger; surely, under those circ.u.mstances, the court would take into account the mental condition of the murderer when determining punishment.16 Age, also, was a mitigating circ.u.mstance; a child had not the same judgment, knowledge, or experience that one would expect to find in an adult. There was not, therefore, the same degree of deliberation in the action of a child as in the action of an adult, and as a consequence the court would determine on a lesser punishment.17 Was not an individual suffering from mental illness comparable to a child? Both lacked the ability to comprehend the effect of their actions on others; both lacked knowledge and experience in successful social relations; and both lacked, therefore, awareness and understanding of moral behavior. The defense had demonstrated mental illness in Nathan and Richard, but this was not an attempt to evade responsibility, Bachrach explained. Just as their youth was an aspect of the case that called for a lesser punishment, so their mental condition also mitigated punishment.18 And, of course, there was no doubt that both Nathan and Richard were mentally ill. Nathan was a paranoiac. He displayed all the symptoms of someone suffering from a paranoid psychosis: delusions of grandeur, self-satisfied superiority, disregard of others, and exaggerated self-importance. Nathan, in letters to Richard Loeb and in comments to cla.s.smates at the University of Chicago, had repeatedly represented himself as a superman who had no need either to behave according to the law or to conform to social convention. His philosophy was an individualistic hedonism that held others in contempt; whatever gave him pleasure or satisfaction determined his daily course of action.

Walter Bachrach paused and glanced briefly across the aisle to look at the cl.u.s.ter of psychiatrists sitting behind the prosecution lawyers. He smiled briefly-almost imperceptibly-as he noticed William Krohn seated directly behind Robert Crowe. Bachrach now leaned forward slightly to pick up a book that had been lying on the table before him. He began, with steady deliberation, as the courtroom waited to hear his words, to leaf through its pages. He resumed speaking. The symptoms of a paranoid psychosis, so conspicuous in Nathan Leopold, were, Bachrach stated, elegantly described by William Krohn and Douglas Singer in their recent book, Insanity and Law: A Treatise on Forensic Psychiatry Insanity and Law: A Treatise on Forensic Psychiatry. Bachrach turned to page sixty-eight and started to read: "'The essence of the paranoid personality is an exaggerated appreciation of self. Everything that happens is considered in relation to the effects it has on the self, and there is a corresponding diminution in the sentiments of altruism and gregariousness.... The man is a dominant aggressive person, anxious to be in the forefront and careless of the feelings and interests of others. He takes life seriously, works hard, and with purpose.'" Was that not an accurate description of Nathan? asked Bachrach. "'He is always sure of himself, is satisfied with his own views and constantly endeavors to impose them on others.... Naturally, he is not popular and he does not make friends though he may have many acquaintances.... He prides himself on his intelligence and control of emotions, and, as a matter of fact, reasons logically and connectedly.'"19 William Krohn, in his testimony for the state, had claimed that Nathan had shown no evidence of mental disease during the examination in the office of the state's attorney. Nathan had expressed himself in a logical and coherent manner with no long pauses or inappropriate gestures such as one might see in a person suffering from neurological disease. Yet-Bachrach now asked-was such external normality in speech and gesture necessarily a sign of mental health; or could a mentally ill individual nevertheless speak and talk in an apparently normal manner? Bachrach turned to page seventy-four and began to read, again, from Krohn's description of a paranoid personality: "'Throughout, the intelligence remains intact; perception is clear and there is no disorientation in the narrower sense of this term. Memory is good, in spite of the falsifications in meaning and context that have been mentioned. The man remains in contact with reality, active, alert and interested and there is no tendency to deterioration or dementia. Hallucinations are unusual, though they may occur during periods of marked excitement.'"20 Once again Bachrach looked briefly across the courtroom at Krohn. He then turned, with a slightly supercilious expression, to look directly at the judge. "Now there, if your honor please," Bachrach said, "you have a statement of Drs. Singer and Krohn which in effect destroys their testimony as given here in the court; the testimony of Dr. Krohn that he based his judgment as to the absence of mental disease of Leopold, upon his memory, his logical processes and his orientation, and his senses, are all shown by his own book to be no evidence that a mental disease did not exist at all."21 The state's claim that Nathan was normal was contradicted by the diagnosis of paranoid psychosis presented in Insanity and Law Insanity and Law. And what about Richard Loeb? Was the state's evidence with regard to Richard also undermined by Krohn's book?

Richard was a schizophrenic, Bachrach explained. During his p.u.b.erty and adolescence, Richard had displayed a progressive loss of contact with reality, a failure to function in everyday life, and a disintegration of personality. He believed himself to be a master criminal, capable of leading other criminals in the organization of perfect crimes. The fantasy was deeply rooted in his psyche; it had been a feature of his everyday thoughts for at least six years-perhaps longer-and showed no sign of diminution. On the contrary; Richard had attempted to translate his wish into reality, stealing cars, burning down outhouses, robbing private homes, and finally killing a fourteen-year-old boy. Even now, Bachrach continued, he was obsessed with the image of himself as a criminal, standing alone in a prison cell, while spectators looked on with a mixture of pity and admiration.

William Krohn, testifying as a witness for the state, had denied, of course, that Richard suffered in any degree from mental illness. The boy was intelligent, lucid, and coherent in his manner and expression and could not be mentally diseased. But what, Bachrach asked, as, once again, he picked up the book that lay before him on the defense table, had Krohn written in Insanity and Law Insanity and Law? "'The intelligence of schizophrenic persons,'" Bachrach read, "'is usually good and is often above the average.... Typically, perception and the formation of memories with clear grasp and orientation are fully up to the average.... The trouble lies not in the quality of the intellectual tools, but in the use that is made of them.... In school he often does extremely well so far as scholastic acquisitions are concerned. He is liable to be absorbed in books and especially in topics that are philosophic and abstract rather than those that would bring him into dealing with the real and the concrete. Often the school successes give rise to hopes of a brilliant future, incapable of realization because of the impossibility of effectively meeting reality.'"22 Was that not also, Bachrach asked, an accurate description of Richard Loeb? Richard was outwardly normal; but that, according to Krohn's own statements in Insanity and Law Insanity and Law, would be consistent with a diagnosis of schizophrenia.

The failure of the state psychiatrists to discover mental illness in Richard and Nathan was a consequence of the abbreviated examination in the state's attorney's office on Sunday, 1 June. Whom should the court believe: the state psychiatrists or the defense psychiatrists? The former had examined the defendants for three hours on a Sunday afternoon in a crowded office; the latter had examined the defendants over several weeks in an isolated, secure room equipped with the necessary scientific equipment. Only one side had presented any credible scientific evidence in this hearing, Bachrach explained, and that evidence led inexorably to the determination of mental illness in Richard Loeb and Nathan Leopold. "Now, how can the testimony," Bachrach concluded, exasperated that there remained any doubt about the matter, "of men like Drs. Singer, Krohn, Patrick, and Church be mentioned in the same breath with the testimony of the experts of the defense?"23

WALTER B BACHRACH FINISHED SPEAKING SHORTLY before noon on Friday, 22 August. During the recess for lunch, hundreds of Chicagoans began to converge on the Criminal Court Building. Clarence Darrow, scheduled to speak directly after Bachrach, had hinted that the Leopold-Loeb hearing would be the last court case of his career. It was the final opportunity to hear Darrow speak in a criminal trial, the last chance to hear the most famous lawyer in the United States! before noon on Friday, 22 August. During the recess for lunch, hundreds of Chicagoans began to converge on the Criminal Court Building. Clarence Darrow, scheduled to speak directly after Bachrach, had hinted that the Leopold-Loeb hearing would be the last court case of his career. It was the final opportunity to hear Darrow speak in a criminal trial, the last chance to hear the most famous lawyer in the United States!

By two o'clock that afternoon, 2,000 Chicagoans stood before the doors of the Criminal Court Building in the bright sunshine flooding Austin Avenue. They were packed into a tight knot, a semicircle, in front of the narrow entrance. The crowd seemed to get larger every minute; it had brushed past the line of police guarding the street entrance and already it had forced its way into the entrance hall, up the staircase on the left, winding its way up six flights of stairs. A line of bailiffs, stern and imposing in their dark brown uniforms, their nightsticks ready, stood at the top of the stairs, but the crowd smashed its way through, sweeping aside the thin line, and surging forward down the corridor that led to the courtroom of the chief justice.24 A dozen women had fainted in the crush; two persons had been trampled by the crowd; and a bailiff, seriously hurt, had been driven away in an ambulance. Police reinforcements had now arrived in Austin Avenue. Squads of blue-jacketed constables rushed forward, their nightsticks smashing first left, then right, as they fought to regain control of the building. Mounted police charged their horses at the mob, seeking to split it away from the entrance. For ten minutes, Austin Avenue was a battleground as the crowd fought back against the police; but eventually the constables won control of the street. They could now turn their attention to clearing the corridors and stairways of the Criminal Court Building.25 Inside the courtroom, Clarence Darrow had started speaking. He wore a loose-fitting gray suit, a blue shirt, and a white wash necktie of a kind that had been fashionable twenty years earlier. His hair, thinning and gray, fell over his forehead; his wrinkled face, punctuated by his shining brown eyes, expressed resolve; and his hands moved eloquently, in synchronicity with his words. The courtroom was full to overflowing-it would have been impossible to squeeze even one more person into the room-and all eyes were focused on Darrow standing in the small s.p.a.ce in front of the bench. The afternoon heat was almost unbearable-the thermometer had already reached eighty-two degrees-and Darrow, holding a pair of eyegla.s.ses in one hand and a handkerchief in the other, was mopping the perspiration from his forehead as he addressed the court.26 "It has been almost three months," Darrow began, "since I first a.s.sumed the great reponsibility that has devolved upon me and my a.s.sociates in this case, and I am willing to confess that it has been three months of perplexity and great anxiety. A trouble which I would have gladly been spared excepting for my feelings of affection toward some of the members of one of these families. It is a responsibility that is almost too great for any one to a.s.sume that has devolved upon me. But we lawyers can no more choose than the court can choose."

The spectators at the rear of the room leaned forward, but it was impossible for them to hear Darrow's words above the racket coming from the hallway. Outside the courtroom, in the corridor, the crowd pressed forward, pushing and shoving at the sheriffs barring the way; punches were thrown and blows were exchanged. Inside the courtroom, m.u.f.fled shouts and screams could be heard coming from the other side of the thick oak doors.

"Your Honor," Darrow said, speaking above the din, "I think I had better wait."

"Is that hall filled outside there?" Caverly called out to a bailiff standing at the back of the room. "Officers," he instructed a group of sheriffs, "clean out that hall, please and if you have not got enough men, get fifty more. Put everybody out of the building except those in the room now."

The crowd eventually retreated down the corridor and back down the stairs to the fifth floor. Curses and shouts could still be heard, but they came more faintly now; within five minutes the scuffling outside the courtroom had ended.27 Robert Crowe's demand for the death sentence, Darrow began, speaking in a quiet, subdued voice, was solely a consequence of the wealth and prominence of the defendants' families. Take away the Loeb fortune; take away the Leopold fortune; take away the Franks fortune-and would anyone be interested in the case now before the court? The newspapers had devoted countless articles, many thousands of words, day after day, to the courtroom hearing-but, if the defendants had been unknown, obscure, and penniless, would anyone apart from the immediate families have cared about the murder of Bobby Franks? It had not even, Darrow continued, been a particularly b.l.o.o.d.y or violent murder, and if one were to compare it with some of the cases that had previously appeared before the Criminal Court, it would seem unremarkable.

But the wealth of the defendants, together with the random nature of the killing and the absence of any motive for the crime, had transformed the case into one of the most sensational crimes in the history of Chicago. And, of course, Darrow remarked, with bitterness in his voice, the state's attorney had done everything possible to elevate the notoriety of the murder, portraying it, falsely, as the worst such act in the history of Illinois. "I have heard"-Darrow's voice was sharper now, less subdued-"nothing but the cry for blood. I have heard raised from the office of the State's Attorney nothing but the breath of hate." In any other case, the prosecution would have been content with a life sentence for a guilty plea from two teenagers; but the wealth of the families had barred them from the customary consideration that Robert Crowe would normally have extended.28 Both Nathan and Richard had pleaded guilty-yet Crowe demanded the death penalty! Nathan and Richard had been minors, nineteen and eighteen years old, respectively, when they killed Bobby Franks-yet Crowe demanded the death penalty! Did the court realize, Darrow asked Caverly, that it would be an unprecedented act to execute defendants so young on a guilty plea?

Darrow stepped across to the defense table and picked up a single sheet of paper containing a typewritten list of executions in Cook County. There had been ninety hangings in the history of Chicago, he continued; only three of those ninety persons had been hanged on a guilty plea; and none of those three had been younger than age twenty-nine. Julius Mannow, thirty years old, had pleaded guilty to murder with robbery and was hanged in 1895; Daniel McCarthy, twenty-nine years old, was executed on a guilty plea in 1897; and Thomas Fitzgerald, forty-one, the murderer of six-year-old Janet Wilkinson, had received the death sentence on a plea of guilty in 1919.29 There was no precedent, Darrow exclaimed, for Crowe's demand that the court hang two defendants who had not yet reached their majority. Capital punishment on a guilty plea-just three cases in the history of Cook County!-was so infrequent that its imposition seemed unjust and unwarranted. Moreover, recent decisions of the Criminal Court made the death penalty appear even more archaic. Since 1914, 350 people had pleaded guilty to murder in Cook County, but only one, Thomas Fitzgerald, had received the death penalty. And it was no coincidence, Darrow remarked, pointing directly at the state's attorney, that Robert Crowe had been the judge who sentenced Fitzgerald to death.30 There was no justification, according to precedent, for the death penalty in the case before the court; it would be an unprecedented act to hang Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb. Nor, continued Darrow, was there even any justification in the circ.u.mstances of the act. The murder had neither motive nor purpose; it had been a senseless, random action that could be explained only on the basis of mental illness. The prosecution had hinted that the boys had killed Bobby for the ransom, to pay off their gambling debts, but this seemed too far-fetched to contemplate seriously for more than a moment. Both Nathan and Richard had as much money as they could possibly desire; each boy received a generous allowance from his father. The state, moreover, had provided scant evidence that either Nathan or Richard had gambled for high stakes. There had been one witness-one witness!-who had testified that he had seen Nathan and Richard play cards but the amount wagered had been derisory, a total of ninety dollars. Crowe was desperate, no doubt, to find a motive for the killing, but he was clutching at a weak reed if he hoped to establish the ransom as a sufficient motive for the murder.31 The state's attorney had claimed that this was the worst murder in the history of Illinois. But where was the motive? The killing had been "a senseless, useless, purposeless, motiveless act," Darrow challenged. "There was absolutely no purpose in it all, no reason in it all, and no motive in it all.... What does the State say about it? In order to make this the most cruel thing that ever happened, of course they must have a motive. And what, do they say, was the motive?...'The motive was to get ten thousand dollars' say they. These two boys, neither one of whom needed a cent, scions of wealthy people, killed this little inoffensive boy to get ten thousand dollars." But Richard Loeb had $3,000 in his bank account and had not even bothered to collect the interest on three Liberty bonds that he owned. Nathan Leopold had been about to go on a European vacation that summer, a vacation paid for by his father. Why, Darrow asked, was there any need for them to risk their freedom, and even their lives, in a scheme to kidnap a boy for ransom? "Your Honor," Darrow appealed to the bench, holding out his hands before him, as though in supplication, "I would be ashamed to talk about this except that in all seriousness-all apparent seriousness-they are asking to kill these two boys on the strength of this flimsy foolishness."32 It was futile, Darrow exclaimed, to seek a rational motive for so bizarre a crime. The crime was inexplicable unless one a.s.sumed that both Nathan and Richard were mentally ill. And each boy's mental condition was a consequence of the forces that had determined him. "Science has been at work," Darrow stated, with his customary self-a.s.surance; "humanity has been at work, scholarship has been at work and intelligent people know that every human being is the product of the endless heredity back of him and the infinite environment around him. He is made as he is and he is the sport of all that goes around as applied to him.... Under the same stress and storm, you might act one way and I might act another."

It was a comforting a.s.sumption, but it remained just that-at least in Darrow's account. Heredity and environment had shaped each boy's conduct, but how, exactly? Darrow claimed, once again, an emotional deficiency in the boys' reactions to the murder-all the psychiatrists had remarked the contrast between each boy's advanced intellect and his stunted emotional capacity. But beyond some vague statements on "the emotional life...the nerves, the muscles, the endocrine glands, the vegetative system," Darrow was unable to give any more complete account.33 Darrow's reluctance, in his closing speech, to use the testimony of his scientific experts was nothing less than an admission of failure. He could not rely on the scientific evidence, because the evidence did not demonstrate that either boy had acted under compulsion in committing the murder. William White's psychoa.n.a.lysis, William Healy's intelligence tests, and Harold Hulbert's endocrinology-none of it, either separately or in combination, was sufficient to explain the murder; and Darrow, compelled to abandon the scientific evidence, had only his homespun philosophy of extreme determinism to fall back on. "I know," Darrow continued, speaking of Richard Loeb, "that one of two things happened to this boy; that this terrible crime was inherent in his organism, and came from some ancestor, or that it came through his education and his training after he was born. I do not know what remote ancestors may have sent down the seed that corrupted him, and I do not know through how many ancestors it may have pa.s.sed until it reached d.i.c.kie Loeb. All I know is, it is true, and there is not a biologist in the world who will not say I am right."34 But if Richard's mental condition was a consequence of the hereditary and environmental forces that had determined him, then where could one fix responsibility? Richard, in Darrow's account, was a plaything of impersonal forces, some stretching back over many generations; and in this rendering, Richard bore no responsibility for his actions. But if one extended the argument, was not everyone shaped by such forces? Therefore, was anyone ever responsible? There was, in Darrow's world, no such thing as individual responsibility, and there was no purpose in a legal system that a.s.signed responsibility and determined punishment. Indeed, Darrow was explicit in his rejection of the concept of individual responsibility. With a characteristic shrug of his shoulders, his left hand buried in his trouser pocket, his right hand gesturing vaguely at the bench, Darrow expelled the concept of blame from the courtroom. "Is d.i.c.key Loeb to blame because out of the infinite forces that conspired to form him, the infinite forces that were at work producing him ages before he was born, that because of these infinite combinations he was born without [emotional capacity?]...Is he to blame for what he did not have and never had?" Darrow pushed back a lock of hair from his forehead and half-turned toward the spectators. "Is he to blame that his machine is imperfect?"35 Nathan Leopold also was blameless. Nathan too suffered from emotional incapacity; he too had an excess of intellect and a deficit of emotion. Nathan was "just a half boy," Darrow continued, "an intellect, an intellectual machine going without balance and without a governor, seeking to find out everything there was to life intellectually; seeking to solve every philosophy, but using his intellect only."36 The metaphor of the machine was the intellectual kernel of Darrow's philosophy. Crime was a consequence of imperfections in the machinery-a loose cog here, a missing governor there-and just as the concept of responsibility was inapplicable to the machine, so individuals were blameless for their conduct. Neither Nathan nor Richard was responsible for the killing of Bobby Franks. If responsibility had to be a.s.signed for that event, then, Darrow argued, blame society for the killing and refrain from punishing Nathan and Richard. "I protest," Darrow cried, "against the crimes and mistakes of society being visited upon them."37 It was the Great War that, more than any other single event or factor, had contributed to the murder of Bobby Franks. The killing of human beings had become so commonplace, so casual and routine, that society now had a bloodl.u.s.t which, almost inevitably, had found its way into Nathan and Richard. "It is due to the cruelty that has paralyzed the hearts of men growing out of the war. We are used to blood, your honor." Darrow held his right hand out before him, his forefinger pointing upward. "We have not only had it shed in bucketfuls, we have it shed in rivers, lakes and oceans, and we have delighted in it, we have preached it, we have worked for it, we have advised it, we have taught it to the young, encouraged the old, until the world has been drenched in blood, and it has left its stains of blood upon every human heart and upon every human.... For four long years the civilized world was engaged in killing men, Christian against Christian, barbarians uniting with Christians: anything to kill.... I need not tell your honor this, because you know; I need not tell you how many upright, honorable young boys have come into this court charged with murder, some saved and some gone to their death, boys who fought in this war and learned how cheap human life was. You know it and I know it."

Darrow had now droned on for three days, interminably rambling his way down rhetorical paths in a disorganized, chaotic mess of a speech. There was little structure to his remarks; he habitually veered off on a tangent at the slightest provocation. Despite its length, his summation contained little of substance; Darrow scarcely even mentioned the scientific testimony introduced during the hearing. His audience fidgeted and yawned yet listened respectfully; and it was only toward the conclusion of the speech, when he indulged in his customary th