The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1888-10-17
INTERVIEWING OWEN BRUEN.
How Plucky Reporter Made the No
torious WhYo Talk.

How Plucky Reporter Made the NO
torious Whyo Talk.
New York, Oct. 1S.-Now that Owen
Bruen, the notorious leader of the Whyo
gang, has gone the way of his predecessors
and is cursing and raving in his stone cell In
Sing Sing, it will be interesting to recall
the experience of a New York reporter
with that desperate and chief OF toughs.
1t was an experience both interesting ana
exciting, and not unlike the thrilling occur
rences in the dives of Paris, familiar to ali
the readers of the mysteries Of Paris" In
fact, as the reporter told me the story the
other day, it presented to my mind vivid
picture closely resembling Sues representa-
ton of Leopold's encounter with the tlend-
ish murderer in the .ill-smelling gin-mIll IN
the Partisan slums.
The reporter is recognized as one of the
ablest newspaper men in New York, ana
also as versatile correspondent and 1t was
in large part due to his reputation for pluck
and to his skill in adapting himself to any
situation, that he was selected for the tick
lish and dangerous work OF interviewing
the worst desperate in New York city.
1t was dusk on a stormy April day when
the managing editor of the Sun came to the
reporter and informed him of his desire to
publish an account of Bruen's views on any
and all questions.
ask him anything" he said, land we
will publish his answers. Only make him
talk"
The reporter was prepared to attend
dinner party at the time, and was in even
ing dress. He sought out Police Captain
McCullagh, and learned from him where
Bruen was to be found. 1t was midnight
when, having torn himself away from the
social pleasantness in which he had partici-
pated, he entered the low dive in Pell street
which Bruen made his headquarters. His
overcoat was buttoned tightly around his
neck, concealing the full dress SUIT and the
pistol which bulged is hippocket. He had
come prepared for emergencies.
Bruen was standing at the bar drinking
when the reporter entered. The latter APP
preached him and touched him on the
shoulder.
"Bruen," he SAID, 81 want to talk to you
for a minute where we won't be over
he 3rd."
Bruen looked at him in doubt, but finally
followed him to a greasy table at wh1ca
they sat down. The saloon was a vie den
barely fifteen feet square, and dimly lit by
gas which fiickered from the broken burn
ers. The bar was a dilapdated, broken
down affair, the wreck of dozens OF murd-
erous fights. The bartender was desperate
looking wretch, whose mouth was be-
smeared with tobacco juice. There were
several loungers in the place who eyed the
intruder with curious and unfrlendly
glances.
Bruen's personal appearance surprised
the reporter He wore clean and well-fttidg
clothes, neat black Derby and white linen.
There was no mistaking the tough, how
ever. Not over feeJ inches in height,
he still showed evide CO of great strength
Enormous hands, massive shoulders and
bull neck were distinguishing features. The
most prominent of his physical character
istics. however, was deep scar in his chin,
the relic of bloody fight.
1t did not take the reporter long to dis
cover that Bruen did not want to talk, but
was bound TO get it. He at once assumed
the offensive.
81 don't know what der sam is wantin'
ter bother me for, said Bruen in surly re-
spouse to the first question.
"Now don't you be a - fooln said the
reporter, you want to get it through your
thick skull that the Sun is doing you a
great honor in taking any notice of you at
all. We are going to give you fair play but
you don't want to act like a jackass; under
standF
Bruen WINGED and his hand Travelled
around to his pistol, the butt of which was
plainly dscernible. The reporter pretended
not to notice his action, but continued to
ply Bruen with questions. The big hand was
almost on the pistol when the reporter
brought bis own fist down on the table with
bang.
You lay your pistol on the table, Bruen,
and I'll break you in two,n he said impress
sively. Il can do it; don't you know l
canT'
Bruen's face paled, his eyes rolled rapidly,
and the SCR in his chin, the physical ba-
rometer of his emotions, trembled notice
ably. At the same time his hand came back
in front again and the pistol remained I'M
disturbed He was thoroughly cowed, al
though more than a match, physically. for
the reporter. After that he answered all
questions, but in a guarded way. Several
times he relapsed into savagery, but aquick.
bold "You, don't be fool" from his inter-
locutor brought him back into submission.
You are too low for me to argue with, u
the reporter said once; you would only
fight with crowd at your back"
When the reporter left it was 1 o'clock a.
m. He had secured a column and a half
about Bruen'5 daily life, his opinions of the
great men Of the world, his ideas of morality
and the studies and pursuits he had engaged
in. He had learned that the Whyo des-
perado was coward, who used his pistol
on his victims back, and also that he was
devotedly faithful to Driscoll, his immsdi-
ate predecessor in the gangs leadership,
who was then in the Tombs on charge of
murder, and has since been hanged. II e
had found, too, that the Whyo was proud
of the good name Of his sisters and fearful
less something might be said against them.
He had done all this by putting on a bold
front and by an apparent disregard for his
personal safety. Nevertheless, he had kept
his own pistol in convenient proximity.
CHARLES j. RosEBAULT.