The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1928-01-13
Pair Walk Without Sign of Fear to Seat of
Execution, Praying for Mercy; Double
Electrocution in Fourteen Minutes
WOMAN PLEADS FOR FORGIVENESS
Blonde Slayer Goes First to Death; Forty
Witnesses in Sing Sing Chamber as
Murderers Expiate Their Crime
Other Snyder Gray details ON
Page One, Section Two.
nv LOUIS n. KEEMLE

United Press staff Correspondent
SING SING PRISON, OSSIN-
ING, N. Y, Jan. 13.-Ruth
Snyder and Henry Judd Gray,
lovers. and murderers, have
paid the penalty for their love
and murder liz the same electric
chair.
. They went to death, between
II and lila o'clock last night,
without a sign Of fear and pray.
ing to God for mercy.
The first woman to die in this
, state in twenty mine years, and one
of the few ever to suffer capital
punishment in this country, met
death with calmness and resigna-
ton.
She and Gray, who had been IL
licit lovers, were put to death for
killing her husband, Albert Snyder,
in Queens Village, N. " last
March. They chloroformed him,
beat him to death with a sash
weight and strangled him with pic
ture wire.
Their lives were forfeited to the
State in a little high-ceilinged room
about forty feet long and twenty
feet wide, in which a group of forty
persons, including two women, had
gathered. IT.
Forgiveness Asked s4s<,s.s.,..s,
"Forgive me, Father, for all my
sins," Mrs. Snyder said in low,
thin little voice just before 1900
volts Of electricity were shot into
her body. Then SHE whimpered and
Sobbed ever so family.
In the solemn, strained stiffness of
the execution chamber it was plain
ly audible, and it sounded like a lit
tie child about to be punished. Then
the current was turned on. She
never moved again.
The witnesses, gathered in the
warden's Office, were led to the
death chamber in q far corner of
the prison by long route under
the open sky. A few stars showed.
1t was cold.
Warden Is at Rear
Warden Lewis E. LaweS stood at
the rear. Guards and the doctors
ranged either wall At the left
rear, opposite the witness benches,
was the closed door of the autopsy
chamber.
The witnesses were ushered in a
minute or two before IL o'clock, all
the others were in their places. No
one spoke. There was a shuffling
as the witnesses took their places.
The guards stood with folded arms
The Shuffling stopped. There was
a second or two of silence as the
witnesses eyed the empty chair. 1t
was something like an old-fashioned
barber's chair, with high back.
Mrs. Snyder, her faded blonde
hair hanging straight in sort Of
Buster Brown bob, was dressed in a
short, dark skirt of cheap prison
material and light green Smock
She wore slippers and one Of her
white stockings was rolled halfway
down the calf.
A matron was on either side and
the Rev. John P. McCaffrey, Catholic
chaplain of the prison, walked in
front, holding a crucifix before her
eyes and praying in low-voiced
Latin. A guard was well in the rear,
Mrs. Snyder, a little woman
against whom the silent guards ap-
peared like giants, walked slowly
and steadily. Her eyes were straight
ahead and apparently were taking in
the figure of the cross.
She advanced to the chair, guided
by the matrons, who then stood in
front as though shielding her from
view. She was assisted into the chair.
Guards Work Swiftly
AS she sat in the chair, the guards
closed in and moved swiftly. Two
knelt and fastened her ankles to the
short straps in front of the chair.
The electrode was attached to her
bare right leg. A strap went around
her waist and another across her
chest, pinning her in.
The death cap, regulation black
leather football helmet with an elec-
trode in the crown to meet the bare
spot clipped on top of her head, was
fastened in place.
The death mask, double affair
that covers the eyes and mouth, with
only a strip across the nose bare,
was adjusted and the guards stepped
back.
Until she sat in the chair, Mrs.
Snyder had made no sound. p
AS she sat down, she suddenly be-
gan. to speak. Her voice, low and
with that note of a frightened child
in it, shattered the stiffness like the
breaking of a glass turnbler.
''Forgive them, Father, they know
not what they do"
Tho words tumbled out less like
prayer than like some familiar
Line, spoken to keep her courage.
"Forgive them, Father"
Her voice was a note HIGHER and