LINKS IN THE CHAIN OF CRIME

Of “Bogy,” early-day champion telegrapher of the United States, it was alleged by those of his craft: “It’s Bogy here, Bogy there, Bogy almost anywhere.”

Blessed with an alert, incisive brain naturally coÖrdinated with the quickest of terminal reflexes, Bogy was drawn to the key when even “duplex” telegraphy was a far-removed possibility. Also, he was rated an electrician when the “Electrical World” issued a fourpage sheet dotted with elementary diagrams and analyses, vulgar craftsmen would now pronounce kindergarten stuff.

As to natural gifts, it is probable that Thomas A. Edison hadn’t a very great deal the edge on Bogy, his contemporary; indeed, if tradition is to be accepted, both, when young, were afflicted with an overdose of inertia, though Edison even then spent much of his time dabbling with electrical instruments.

Edison, so the tale runs, stuck to the home base and to the dabbling, until there was born in him the desire to do something no other man had done, and to serve his fellowmen in the doing. In due time the “inertia” gave place to a power of consecutive, concentrated effort, matched but few times in the annals of human endeavor.

Edison finally reached the stage where he blessed work and was blessed by it; and to-day, when crowding close to four-score-and-ten, “Work is worship” with him, and none need expect his approbation who trains the clock eye, while measuring commensurate labor with sand that has run.

Bogy, struck with an instinctive distaste for buckling to and blocking out results agreeably with his bulking gifts, and periodically by an engulfing wave of wanderlust, wouldn’t plant himself and take root. He could both “send” and “receive” faster than any man on earth. He was the best of fellows when “lush”; but he couldn’t control either the soles of his feet, or the feet of his brain. Therefore ’twas Bogy in America in April, Canada in July, England in October, and Australia in December.

Bogy, the personification of the aimless, senseless globe-trotter. Bogy, distributing his precious belongings in bits about the globe. Bogy, sensing not the least of responsibility unto himself, to man or his Maker, to properly express princely attributes. Bogy, lighting like the butterfly here for a sip, there for a sip, then making tangentially for other fields and cheap sweets.Writing the author about Bogy, Edison related: “I heard a funny one about Bogy: One day he walked into the New York Produce exchange, and going to the W. U. booth asked the loan of a dollar from the operator. Bogy said, ‘I am Bogy; have you never heard of me?’ The operator said ‘No.’ ‘Well,’ says Bogy, ‘you must be a helluvanoperator.’”

The last time the writer saw Bogy, he was down-and-out, unblushingly “hitting” his home friends for petty largesse, the bulk of which went for lager beer—his arch enemy.

Just why did beer poison Bogy’s life? Because it nailed him to environment that insidiously sapped his manhood, along with his mental and manual skill. He shuffled from the subscriber for the last time a nerve-shattered derelict. He had chosen one of scores of pikes over which young men travel at a pace that kills pride in worthy work.

It wasn’t in Bogy to take the final leap into a life of crime, He was bigger than that at his littlest. Besides, he lacked nerve to accept the gambler’s chance at the game of predation. Further, his old friends couldn’t say one nay whose purse was open to all when, as he put it, he was “in luck.”

But Bogies there are, thousands of them, who, given but an added dash of degenerate deviltry, are drawn as naturally to criminal shoals as needle to magnet; shoals, many of which break from a treacherous undertow, many more of which cannot be charted so as to arrest the serious attention of up-coming lads, and some of which none can hope to avoid entirely, save by the help of Him Who alone can fend all of the thrusts of temptation.

Basically, however, Bogy habitually expressed three of the prime attributes of the predal felon, in that he wouldn’t work consecutively, was ego-centric to the pitiable point, and would lead a complex, carnal, varied, and parasitic life. Also, in going out for, and feeding on, unearned increment, he shadowed forth incipiently the all-pervasive moral criminal whom no penal code feazes, yet he who, because of his oblique principles and practices, is chargeable more than another for both the birth and the onrush of crime.

Fundamentally, nearly all of crime reaches to myriads of things done and left undone by those, the great majority of whom never suspicioned that they were shoving criminal pawns into play.

Others baldly mark anti-social cards thusly, for example: Here’s a shark who schemes grossly to manipulate price levels on commodities, when the strings to millions of lean purses are already stretched to the snapping point.

“All the traffic will bear!” is the slogan of this jobbing Shylock, who presses for the usurer’s pounds of flesh money, e’en to the point of taking the very heart out of the mass of his countrymen.The bitterness of such meanest of wholesale thievery consists in the fact that it is commonly engineered to the end that the thieves and their retainers may flaunt brassy symbols of ill-gotten gain in the faces of those whose bent backs are about all that is left them to show for their having been the primary producers of those symbols.

There’s a faultlessly-clothed and groomed crook whose soft palm reaches for what he knows to be of value its weight in paper: the which he is about to exchange obligingly for what he knows to be the bulk of a life’s savings, won by patient toil against great odds.

Down to the depths, along with his dupe, go the wife and children of the “poor fish.” The man and his mate must retrace, retrench, and take up the old grind at a time when the inevitable toll takes of both spirit and flesh. But what’s a little thing like that to him who must have his old wine, young things, and “dough” with which to double his bets while he makes the grand rounds of the sporting sentry boxes? This thinly-veneered, mulcting type of parasite pirouettes debonairly over the spaces of the “movie” screen, where he takes up his abode in the indiscriminating hearts of younglings.

Watch that bull-jowled “promotor” of the pug-ugly sport—another type of human cuckoo. Get the ghoulish glint in his eyes as he “spills” vernacular of the gutter telling an instinctively fine buckra of a “boy” what a “chump” he’d be to go on playing the mule at productive work, when he “packs a double punch” with which to land him in the midst of “easy pickin’.” Observe the war within the lad as between innate decency and, in a sense, laudable desire for the limelight and “soft” money.

Follow the lad in the prize ring six months later. Note his unerring judgment of distance; his containedness and resourcefulness under whirlwind assault; his chloroforming blow, held coolly for the “opening” he seeks, then delivered lightning-like to the part of the body of his adversary he had been patiently “playing” for; see his battered, bleeding, and befuddled foe borne from the ring, supported by his “seconds”; and then think on high qualities of gameness and skill, matched by a fine mentality and piston-power and reaction of muscle, given over, as an occupation, to the spilling of his brother’s blood, for a price accursed in the sight of every good thing.

You couldn’t miss the practical “side kick” of such as the “professor” pug; you couldn’t, from church portal to the padded cell of a convict prison. He’s no low-down mixer with mud larks—not he! Should you suggest such a thing, he’d bristle and bark. And had you the temerity to propose introduction to his sister of even a pugilistic “champeon” he’d probably sink his mental teeth into you. Agreeably with the social ear, he avoids war of words over his Maker’s edict: “The meek shall inherit the earth”; but by nature he craves action of the kind that left the Roman amphitheatre a stench in the nostrils of a dawning civilization such as the Christ envisaged. And so, you will find him enthusiastically back of the kind of “Big Brothering of Boys” that pits mere bantams of kids against each other in a brutal “bout” to a “finish.”

The covered lie comes easy, of course; hence, the bestial business is euphemistically touted as “boxing exhibitions”; boxing, mark you, that leaves a pigmy of a lad cut and slashed, stretched senseless, face downward, with the blood trickling from his nose and ears to the canvas.

Probably in just one “go” the lad had taken on external marks that will seriously handicap him for all of his earthly time; very possibly he had suffered internal injury that will rise up along about the medial line of life, and cut him off; and surely he had been imbued with instincts which, more than all other instincts, impelled purblind mortals to rush for the late shambles as for a barbecue.

School lads ruthlessly spill human blood for amusement, and at the same time seek to establish in the souls of men “a peace that passeth understanding”? Every man who thinks beyond the tip of his nose, knows that the two propositions are preposterously antithetic; that historians of the future will have so declared them; and that Almighty God puts his curse upon the doubled fist, let the doubling take what form it may, other than in defense of sacred rights.

Meet the “glad-hand,” ubiquitous charlatan: Janus-faced, side-stepping straddler; monkey-on-a-stick to the last touch; echo of the last voice; hand behind his back for “cash”—no paper, no witnesses, since he is clever as the foraging fox is clever; plausible peddler of light promises with which to ease the going to his goal; insinuating distributer of tainted largesse; any man’s man so he be the highest bidder; no man’s man who despises disloyal duplicity; mixer with mixers of noxious social broth, this man-mongrel of varied type and intensity of crass cunning, is the most craven of moral cowards, in that he cannot be brought to an accounting with conscience. Were he “hitched to a star,” he’d just naturally fix his gaze on the abyss. Everywhere he interposes the oblique act to queer the big thing. In reform endeavor, he plays to hands that land him within the big money, and let intrinsic reformative processes go hang.

The so-called “good mixer” will measure to any length of tape. At his best, he will stretch to the size of a Warren G. Harding, motivated by impulse to reduce friction engendered by clashing convictions. He seldom does less than well, because he is guided by a genuine desire to help ease the heart of contention, through striking a working balance and thus leaving the contenders with hands clasped. Such serve God in serving man.

At his worst, he will shrink to the stature of the political man-of-all-work. His part it is to veer votes to suit his paymasters. What his instruments to hand? Ask him, since the print of a paragraph can encompass but a modicum of his machinations.

From ward heeler to worshipful woman, this subterranean trickster is charged with selection of the tool that will turn the trick.

The “instrument” may take the form of a crass bid in coin of the realm for such as marshalling of thugs to intimidate units of the opposition at the polls, and to line up “floaters”; or to dig up detached matter written or spoken by an opponent, and so garnish and garble it as to rob it of the meaning the original spokesman, or writer, intended it should convey; or to shout from the house tops the minute details of a natural fault, buried for long years under the statute of limitations, and through the offender having taken on nobility of soul after having squared the account, in so far as it could be squared; or to persist in a campaign of slander concerning allegations that had time and again been discredited through due processes of unquestionable research; or to stir up antagonisms of class and creed that persist beyond the polls, and further close the eyes of single-seeing partisans and bigots. In short, to deal dirt-daubed deuces from the bottom of the political deck, e’en though by so doing he outrages decency, and reverses the Great Pleader, Who cautioned so often for charity in human judgments.

Who does not know the legal trimmer whose best hold is debasement of the trademark of his craft? The basic bones of jurisprudence, and the ethics of his profession, alike make it morally incumbent upon a lawyer to see justice done—no more, no less. True, the human mind in all of its functioning is fallible. There will be honest differences of interpretation as to what constitutes justice, agreeably with legal lore, written and traditional; but there can be no defense of the shyster whose practice reduces mainly to attempts at derailing justice; of him who elects to effect inequitable exchange, or to defeat the aims of law framed to assure the common peace and security.

Because legions of spurious practitioners the country over lend themselves to grease the going for recidivistic criminals, it is largely that the latter take long and desperate chances they would not dare otherwise. The reason given also explains in positive part why the American marauder is flippantly the most deadly of any of his ilk in the world; and why he constantly mounts in numbers beyond those of any other nation.

To the barterers of the bebadged: to those intrusted with the public safety on the first lines of social defense, it is left to lengthen the long odds yielded the criminal in his pursuit of crime. Shameful, and hard to tell as it is of a body of men, the grand majority of whom remain faithful to their oaths of office, it is nevertheless true that a constantly increasing percentage of active peace officers of cities of the first class particularly, wink at penal offenses not only, but actually lock arms with felonious offenders in the landing of all kinds of unlawful loot. Moreover, it is by no means exceptional for policemen to hold criminous club over the heads of certain of ex-prisoners who, given a fair fighting chance, probably would have “pulled straight” after parole from prison. And moreover, it has been charged freely, betimes established in courts of law, that morally-debauched chieftains had impelled police pawns to urge criminals to greater activity in the garnering of tainted spoils, in the division of which, king-pin grafters declared themselves “in” for the lion’s share.

And then, as if to bind the whole nefarious business, self-nominated lay reformers with itch for place and portion, or for specific power and control, or for a cheap popularity with prisoners, or to be cited as bellwethers of reform, or from just ornery ignorance, couldn’t rest satisfied until they had deleted from reformative measures next to the last of directive virtue; and from the commission of crime, drawn all but the sterile sting of consequence. This, in the first instance, through so ordering educative processes as to strip them of fundamental efficience, while at the same time capitalizing by-play charged both with the spirit and practices of the would-be parasitic sport; and in the second instance, by granting paroles based mainly on behavior, instead of on an acquired ability in the manual and auxiliary processes, sufficient to meet free-life exactions at honest endeavor.

More than any other class of social wreckers, the latter individuals have been blamable for the rough-riding killer; firstly, because they have been men, by and large, who should have been so pestled in the social crucible as to have made it practically impossible for them to have veered so grossly from essential human values, while confounding magnitudes; and secondly, for the reason that they have wrecked in the teeth of the most solemn opposition of those who have made a life’s concentrated study of that which makes and keeps men criminal: done it while breaking bread with criminals, and done it with due regard for every known finite and infinite influence that makes for the social rehabilitation of the repeating felon.

This one’s fetich had to function before all else; that one’s fad needs must go a’riding, and no matter that the fundamentals limped on crutches; another imagined himself the Moses to lead all to the reformative land of promise; a fourth was cock-sure of his strictly individual balm with which to work miracles of reform; yet had all of their magic been combined, and used to the height of its power, it wouldn’t have made so much as a dent in case-hardened crime; it wouldn’t, because nothing less than all-around preparedness to put off crime will make a dent in crime; and that’s exactly what our friends have maneuvred to kill, is the ability of singularly needy fellows to upstand in their own shoes and make an honest living.

Baseball crowned King! Brutalities named to conceal their intrinsic curse! Banal amusements still adjusted to the hands and minds of nearly-confirmed social slackers! Perquisites stretched to the point of parting company with common sense! Favoritism bestowed where it would supposedly carry for the greatest advertising power in free life! Gross criminals, naturally of the ground-hog type, and the nucleus of crime, practically left either to shift for themselves, or smugly passed up to others for solution of their pitiable problems! The gauge of reformative effort regulated to the degenerate reactions of instinctive social wolves, at the expense of their sore needs! And all done as if done from the peak of the hill of finite prescience; in very fact, with gratuitous disregard of all of human experience not seen from that hypothetical “hill.”

In relation thereto, the crucial points are: true criminals think substantially in the same measures as the writer writes; doing it, habituals have done precisely what habituals naturally would do in the circumstance, which is to say: they have ground grist bagged to their liking and brought to their mill, and by the same token, they have moved as one to refuse millings that didn’t mate with their machinations.

Not a whit of false suggestion, an item of spurious method, a camouflaged lie, an iota of bad example, nor a denatured piece of deviltry, has been lost upon any but the least intelligent of lawbreakers; and even they must have had veiled minds indeed, not to have understood.

In line with easy buttering of bread and the going pressure for banal by-play in prison life, criminals and ex-criminals alike have outraged truth in order to discredit men who had wished them well, and had acted the part; but whether in the rÔle of the dispossessed or dispossessing, actual criminals have never for a moment stepped out of cadence with the cardinal motif, which has been to bamboozle the blinkered: swallow-tail criminologists preferred, because they are the easiest to gull.

Some have been gulled because a comprehensive understanding of that which builds to given criminals, and then to their progressively serious crimes, has been strangest to their striving. Others have been rendered single-seeing through obsessional use of the monocular lens, given over to proof of the presupposition. Still others must have hushed conviction in order to meet this or that material consideration.

And certain of active workers in the work must have ridden as jockeys to orders under false colors, since the inescapable exactions of reformative endeavor cannot be misread by any tyro who will take a good look.

Hence it comes about that the crime problem works out substantially like this: multiply the congenital predisposition of the average criminal to commit crime, by the sum of the direct and indirect bids made for him to do so, and you account naturally for the present carousal of crime in the United States, engineered, in the main, by habitual criminals.

Pounding on such as the aftermath of the World War as acute cause for crime, doesn’t begin to pick to the bone. America had outfooted the civilized world at breeding and nursing criminals, long before the prospect of a foreign war had seeped into the national consciousness.

No doubt, certain of the legions of ex-criminals who sieved into the national forces, here and abroad, for that war, were therefore emboldened to take up the swing around the criminal circle at the completion of that service; but if true, that were a mere flash in the pan as compared with the daily grand total of crime committed in continental America.

If we are to catch up with crime and come up with the criminal, the obscured fact is the fact that needs must take root and abide in American minds. The obscured fact is, that infinitely more than the ideals from which correctional plants are operated, the ideals from which such as counting houses consummate—affect the grand ratios of crime.

So long as those at the top break moral law to bits and remain practically immune to legal proscriptions in the breaking, so long will crowded-out fellows at the bottom crack jokes over little things like penal codes.

However it goes with the rest of the world, America has reached the stage of unfolding whereof inequity at a price won’t work.

Nothing short of an enlightened national conscience will cut much of a swath in the stand of crime; a conscience that holds every man to the open mart, there to deal one-hundred cents to the dollar—give or take.

Remedial measures, taken as against the going saturnalia of crime the country over, will perforce center on prevention. Remodelling crime-soaked human clay won’t cure the case.

First, then, purge the land of natural criminals and breeders of criminals: this, in part, through restrictive immigration laws that religiously restrict; in part by searching out resident agitators against the public peace and security, and ticketing them for the countries whence they came; and in part by confining home-brew habituals and keeping them confined.

Secondly, begin instruction for a common virtue where children take on bents for thinking and doing at maturity; which is to say: at the hearths, and in the public schools of the land.

So much being admitted, it follows, with undeniable force, that the first logical step in point to be taken by America, should be reËstablishment of moral instruction in the public schools.

Thereof, America was steered, and steers for the rocks; for, “Just as the twig is bent, the tree’s inclined.”

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