Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-10-27
IN THE AGE OF TRUTH

When the age of absolute veracity arrives
somewhere around 1905 maybe-the
newspaper accounts Of the hanging OF
some famous criminal VIII be something
like the neutrality-suspicious.:
'WIlliam Sykes. more Familiarity known
to our readers by his nickname, Butch the
Bite was hanged in the county Jail yard
at 9 O'Clock yesterday morning. We do
not say that he paid the penalty OF his
crime, because everybody knows that hang
ing is the penalty for murder in this juris-
diction, and we seek to avoid superf1uous
words.
There was nothing unusual about the
hanging of Butch the Bite, who it may be
recalled by some of our readers who read
the criminal news which, in answer to the
demand of the groundlings. we are obliged
to print in this newspaper-it may be re-
called by these We say that Butch the
Bite slaughtered his wife with cotton
hook after throwing lighted lamp at her
one evening few months ago.
After his sentence Butch adopted neither
manner of bravado nor one of abjectness.
He didn't perceive the necessity of taking
either one of these poses, and SO he just
remained Butch the Bite to the end. That
is to say. he just sat In his cell and smoked
short clay pipe and figured on the here
after or addressed himself to whatever
mental occupation he best liked. While he
never whined about the matter after his
sentence. he did reply, when questioned.
that he was rather sorry that he had killed
his wife. He was Intoxicated. he said.
when 1t happened. and he didn't remember
much about 1t, except that his wife had
first tossed dish of red-hot stewed toma-
toes all over his countenance because he
hadn't brought all Of his wages home. But,
for all that, said Butch, he was sorry that
he had killed her. II only for the reason
that 1t appeared that he was going to hang
for the Job. Other than these remarks
Butch hadn't much to say to anybody. In
records of the ancient world we often find
documents that seem to show that SEN
fenced murderers in past ages were very
laxative in their death cells, but Butch
has never been guilty of any superfiuous
conversation since first he came before the
public eye.
Butch didn't pass a sleepless last night
on earth. Neither did he sleep the sleep of
any innocent little child He slept a part
Of the time, and he was awake part Of
the time, as was natural enough for man
in Butch's circumstances. He didn't read
the Bible that the clergyman had left for
him on leaving the cell on Butch's final
evening On earth He might have read 1t
had he been able. but Butch never learned
how to read. Notwithstanding the fact
that the book was of practical use to
him he did not toss it angrily on the floor
when the clergyman left 1t with him. He
just allowed it to rest on the bench beside
iiAiiA' oAu iCI IL So al that.
''The turnkey. sometimes called the death
watch by hanging reporters who enjoy
solemnity, sat outside of Butch's door dur
ing the night and did not get up every
once in a while and walk up and down the
corridor with measured and holloway
echoing tread. The turnkey was engaged
In reading very interesting novel through
out the entire night, and he scarcely left
his chair except when Butch maced him
for chew of tobacco The turnkey
wouldn't have measured his tread even If
he had walked up and down the corridor.
'At o'clock the turnkey turned the
corner of his novel page down and told
Butch that he might just as well get that
new suit of clothes This was not a black
suit. 1t was a mixed gray goods, and it
looked pretty well on Butch when he got
| 1t on. As soon as he got dressed Butch
did not call for hearty breakfast. con-
sisting of three lamb chops. ham and eggs.
stack Of flannel cakes, four soft-boiled
eggs and three cups of coffee.
81 guess 1 don't want to eat nothin','
was what Butch had to say about the
breakfast thing. "A little hooter O. booze
wouldn't go bad. though and so Butch was
provided with a good drink of liquor to
sustain him through the little matter in
hand.
THE clergyman arrived shortly after
ward He was not a fussy or hysterical
clergyman, but Just good. kindly man who
had been doing the best he could to make
1t easy for Butch. The clergyman simply
told Butch that he was sorry that he'd got
SUCH d Dciu start anu poor. DTe6k IN the
game of life; that he felt that Butch wasn't
a murderer at heart. but that he had allow
ed himself to become so picked in rum
that he wasn't responsible for himself at
the time of the crime. being little more
than a wild beast; that he was glad Butch
was sorry for what he had done. and that
he felt and believed that Butch would GER
tainly get square deal in the next world.
Butch. being plain man. and no fool, APP
preciated this kind of talk from the clergy
man. He showed his appreciation by rest
ing his hand on the clergymans shoulder
and saying. Pal. you're all right, all right.
THE warden Of the prison showed up
soon after the arrival Of the clergyman.
He didn't attempt to be brisk and hearty
and cheerful. but acted like a warden might
be expected to act in the circumstances.
He knew that there wasn't anything to be
cheerful about in the situation. The warden
simply said. Butch. guess it's pretty near
| time and Butch replied. That's right, Cap.
and I'm ready, and there was no death
warrant read in the narrowing sepuchral'
| voice that wardens in ancient times used
to employ on such occasions
"Four or five sleepy-looking newspaper
reporters, of whom the present writer was
one. arrived presently. The reporters didn't
naturally enough, like their assignment,
because 1t got them out of bed at an I'M
earthly hour, but they felt sorry for Butch.
kind O.. all the same. Reporters always do
feel sorry for chaps about to be executed,
| no matter what the fellows have DONE
There wasn't any march to the gallows.'
warden just said, This way, gentlemen to
the party, and he led the way to the yard.
Butch walking right behind him and the
| others following. There was nothing either
of bravado or of cravenness about Butch.
He just walked like he had always walked.
The clergyman strobe along close behind
him. saying, These things always work out,
1 hope and believe in the long run, Sykes,
and 1 am glad to you play the part of a
man. oh. I'm not worrying. podner,' re-
piled Butch In his natural Tone without the
least huskiness, except that, of course,
I'm sorry I croaked the gal, and I wisht
she was alive now I sure do. But by
cones Is bygones. and so that's all there is
to It. Butch didn't make the least at
tempt to be sentimental. He was pretty
shrewd sort of fellow, was Butch. for
rough character, and he never descended to
the ma udlin pose from the beginning Of the
incident to the end.
when Butch mounted the platform and
had had his hands tied by the wardens
assistant he wasn't asked if he had any
thing to say. Everybody there present
knew that Butch didn't have anything to
say that he hadn't already said. and SO
they spared him the needless question.
Before the black cap was pulled over his
head. however. Butch looked around at the
group. all of whom felt sure-enough sorry
for him, and he said: 'S'long, fellers.
g.