Mountain Justice

Chapter 3

Chapter 3After a couple of hours of sleep that morning, I grabbed the street car to Stewart Circle on Monument Avenue on the far western section of the city. After I had stepped to the street, I checked my watch. It was noon, hopefully the pastor would be in. For a few moments I just stared in awe at the mammoth stone structure before me. The church had only been built two years prior. The large towers at the corner reminded me of the Tower of London.

I approached a young boy pulling weeds from a flower bed at the front steps.

“Excuse me,” I asked, “but can you tell me where I might find Dr. Scherer?”

“The pastor is in his study, at the back of the church,” the boy said, never slowing down from his task, or looking up. “It has his name on the door. I’ll show you if you want me to.”

I watched the boy for a few moments, sensing something unusual about him.

“No, I’m sure I can find it,” I said. “I hate pulling weeds. You actually look like you enjoy it.”

“Yes sir,” the boy said. “It’s always fun doing God’s work. The pastor said my weed pulling is just as important to God as his work is.”

“Thank you very much for your time,” I said.

I knelt and reached out may hand to shake his. He ignored my gesture. It was only then I realized the young boy was blind. For a moment, I realized my life wasn’t as bleak as I thought it to be. I patted him on the head.

As directed, at the back corner were three steps leading down to a door. Above the door was a sign that read, “Dr. John J. Scherer, visitors always welcome.” I tapped on the door.

“Please come in,” a voice called from inside.

I entered and said, “Dr. Scherer, I’m Jeremiah Haynes. From the paper? You had told me I could come by if I had questions? I was hoping you might have a few moments.”

The man stood and approached me, both his hands outstretched.

I couldn’t help but notice that this man, who was not more than ten years older than me, seemed to have such a divine persona. Righteous, but not pious. Striking, but not handsome. Tall and slim, the pastor looked like what I though the Pope would look like, minus the vestments.

“Of course, of course. It’s good to see you. Please have a seat. “

“I met your young gardener; he is a fine young man.”

“Oh, you mean Jason. Yes, he is a truly exceptional youngster. He came from a bad home that rejected him because of his disability. Anytime I can, I try to help young men find their footing. That’s usually all it takes, a hand down, instead of a hand-out.”

“I know everything that has happened has been arduous on you, but I was hoping you might offer some insight into what you think the real Floyd and Claude Allen were like.”

The pastor pushed his six-foot frame back into the big leather chair, locked his hands in front of him, and raised his hands to his chin as if in prayer. His eyes took on a distant look, as he told his story of how, back in 1912, he and some of the other pastors had started a prison ministry. The Allens had been brought to Richmond on Saturday, October 26th. On the third or fourth day after they arrived he was given permission to speak with them. Dr. Scherer said both of them, at the beginning, were somewhat reserved. What mountain people would call ’stand offish’. He thought it was perhaps the shock of being in what people have begun to call “death row”.

“But after a couple of weeks,” he said, “they began to open up to me. I think it benefited me when they discovered I grew up near Hillsville.”

“You’re not from a big city?”

“No, not at all. I was born in Marion, only about 80 miles away from Hillsville. My father John J. Senior, was born in Rural Retreat, and was a college president. He opened Marion College. So, I think once they learned that, they felt I could understand them more than some of the other pastors, and they began to open up.”

“If I might ask, what were the first things they talked about?”

“I’m sure you understand there are many things that were said in confidence that I cannot reveal.”

“Yes sir, I certainly will respect that. Anything you might share will be appreciated. I‘m sure you know, but I do want to be forthright with you, I am using this for future articles, and so I will be taking notes. If you wish, I will name you only as ‘an unidentified witness’.”

“I assumed that was why you are here, and I’ll be glad to tell you what I know that doesn’t fall within the realm of confidentially. I would like to help you find the truth.“

My left eye twitched at the pastor’s choice of words. He smiled and continued.

“To answer your question though, both men were more concerned about their loved ones than about themselves. Mr. Allen was especially concerned about his wife who was not in good health.”

“Yes, I could see that reflected in his last statements. But I’m sorry, please continue.”

“Claude was concerned about his mother and his girlfriend Nellie Wisler. They were not allowed to write letters their first two weeks here, so they asked me to contact their loved ones saying I was their spiritual advisor, and to let them know they were adjusting, and to not worry.”

“Miss Wisler was very active in trying to obtain a pardon for Claude, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, very much. She was fervent in her defense of him. She was extremely articulate. A teacher I believe. I think I heard her father was also a clergyman. She had the tenacity of a bull dog though, and the governor had to respect her, even if he never fully supported her requests.”

“How were their states of mind when they first arrived? The first couple of months?”

“Mr. Allen was still having a lot of problems with his hip, where he had been shot, and seemed to be in a great deal of pain. I don’t think I ever heard him complain though. He would apologize because he couldn’t kneel to pray. I told him that he need not worry, that God cared more for what came from man’s heart, than what came from his knees.”

“Dr. Scherer,…”

“Please call me John, I couldn’t be much older than you. May I call you Jeremiah?”

“Certainly John, Thank you.” I said, then forgetting what I was asking, looked back down on my notepad. “Oh yes, Doctor, I mean, John, I have heard that you personally took the initiative in trying to get the Allens released. May I hear more about that?”

The pastor lowered his hands to the table and leaned forward.

“Yes, I think it is common knowledge that many worked diligently for some kind of reprieve, or at least to change the sentence to life, although I don’t think either of the Allens would have wanted to spend their life in prison. I first began thinking about becoming involved beyond that of a spiritual leader about six weeks after they arrived. At that time, I ran into George Lafayette Carter…”

“You mean the millionaire?”

“Yes, Mr. Carter was from Hillsville. He is a very wealthy man, with coal mines, railroads, and real estate throughout Virginia, Tennessee and West Virginia. I knew him because he gave a very large endowment to Marion College.”

“Marion College?”

“Yes, the college my father started. I met him while a student there, and he recognized me even fifteen years later. He asked me to go with him to meet with Governor Mann. It was my understanding that the two men were once close personal friends.”

I continued to take notes as Pastor Scherer told his story. He explained how Mr. Carter had started out very cordial, telling how he had recited about twenty minutes of documented facts supporting his request, and then finalized his presentation by asking that the Allens’ sentences be commuted. For the next thirty minutes Carter and the governor argued the merits of the case. Dr. Scherer said, even though Mr. Carter was not a lawyer, the businessman argued articulately. In the end though, the governor could not be swayed. It seemed the governor was mainly antagonistic toward Mr. Floyd Allen, so then Mr. Carter began pleading that Claude’s life be spared. That was when the discussion got extremely hot. Mr. Carter wasn’t used to not getting his way, and the governor was not used to having his authority questioned. Dr. Scherer said that after about two hours of the impasse, the governor told Mr. Carter that he had another appointment, wished him a safe trip home, and rose to shake his hand.

“That is when it really got testy,” Dr. Scherer said.

“So it didn’t end well?” I said.

“You are correct. Mr. Carter stood up, slammed his fist on the desk, and gave the governor one of the iciest stares I have ever seen. Then he said some words that I didn’t fully comprehend, but I will never forget. I’ll not forget because when he said them, Governor Mann turned a pale shade of which I have never seen on the most dreadful corpse.”

By this time I was literally on the edge of my seat.

“And just what were those words?” I asked.

“He said, ‘Well, Pontius Pilate, I don’t care how many times you wash those filthy hands of yours, the blood of these men WILL be on you.’ He then said, ‘I can promise you, you’ll never win another election’ .”

I let those words sink in. Everyone had been surprised when Mann was elected governor because of his almost fanatical temperance views. I had heard there had been some large contributors. But it was nearly impossible to believe a successful business man like George Lafayette Carter would support a staunch Democrat like Mann. After this investigation on the Allens was over, I definitely wanted to pursue a story. Apparently this businessman had layers of complexity most people had never imagined. I had heard some considered him even ruthless in his business dealings. I looked forward to meeting him one day.

“So is that when you started your campaign for commuting the sentences?” I asked.

“Yes, hearing the facts that Mr. Carter had presented, and witnessing the unreasonableness of the governor to even discuss the matter, filled me with the desire to do more myself.”

“And that is when you came to our paper?”

“That’s correct; that is when I approached The Evening Journal and gave them the evidence as I saw it. Your editor studied it for a few days, then phoned me that he felt they would change their original stand and take up a fight to commute the sentences. That’s when the petitions began.”

I remembered after the first editorial came out, we got a couple of threats, but then letters by the hundreds began pouring in wanting to know how to go about signing a petition for at least a new trial. Of course, it didn’t hurt when now United States Senator, Claude Swanson came out in support of the young man who had taken his name as his own.

This was also about the time that Nellie Wisler began writing all newspapers throughout the state. She single-handedly won over at least a dozen papers on her own. We copied the letter she had sent to the governor, begging him to just talk to Claude, offering that she herself would stay in his death row cell until the meeting was over. After we reported that, we received a tidal wave of support.

“I had heard there were nearly a hundred thousand signatures on the petition at the end,” I said and then added. “Is it true your brother Luther signed the petition, and he worked for Baldwin-Felts?”

“He did work for them, until he signed the petition and went before the governor with me. They then decided they no longer needed his services,” the pastor said with a chuckle. “You do know that many, I think all except one of the jurors, who had sentenced them, signed.”

“Yes, I remember that. It surprised me that information did not sway the attitude of the state.”

“I just can’t see how an elected official can deny the wishes of so many of his citizens,” the pastor said, shaking his head with an unbelieving look.

“So how were the Allens in the final days before the execution?” I asked. “On the days that I interviewed them, they seemed to be holding up, but I’m sure the final days were rough.”

“I believe they still had hope, all the way up until the end. The date just kept getting delayed. You know the first date was set for November 19th, then it was moved to December 13th. Then they decided they would let the state supreme court consider it, so they moved it to January 17th.”

“That’s when my editor let me come in. The reporter who had been covering it almost died from appendicitis. I was sent to cover the January 10th hearing when Mr. Byrd and Mr. Smith presented their case. When I left that hearing, I was certain there was no way the courts could refuse to retry the case.”

“I agree,” the pastor said, rubbing his temples as if he had a migraine, “the evidence proved beyond any doubt that there could not have been a conspiracy, and that is the biggest reason they were sentenced to death. I was so confident, and so were they.”

“But they were once again disappointed?”

“Yes. Each time, two weeks prior to the scheduled dates, they would begin preparing for their deaths. Then it would be postponed. They were naturally relieved, but also the strain was weighing heavily upon them.”

“I can only imagine how difficult that was.”

“I can remember Mr. Allen’s face when he read the first article you wrote, that the State’s conspiracy charge had been shattered by new evidence, and if affidavits were to be believed, and they have always carried great weight in a court of law, it seemed more appropriate that the court officials should be charged with conspiracy.”

I allowed a small smile.

“Yes, it was the next day that the editor got your phone call that Floyd Allen wanted to see me. I thought Mr. Allen was going to fall over when he saw how young I was.”

“He told me that you had relatives in Carroll County.”

“Yes, my grandfather’s brother was a brother-in-law to Sidna’s mother Elizabeth. I only found this out when I told an aunt that I had been asked to visit Floyd.”

“So you saw as much of them as I did the last two months, up until March 24th when Justices White and Hughes refused to hear the case. After that they were placed in lock-down, and I wasn’t even able to see them until the day of the 28th.”

I hesitated for a few seconds, trying to form the sentence that I knew I had to ask. I knew there was no finesse way in asking, so I just blurted out.

“Just between you and me, were Floyd and Claude Allen guilty?”

“Guilty of murder? Probably. I do think they shot with the intent to kill. From what I understand, there was such bedlam, no one will ever know who shot whom. But one thing I will unequivocally say, there was absolutely no way there was a conspiracy to murder. Pure and simple.”

“OK, John, as I said, I’m not going to use your name. Is there anything else you feel comfortable telling me? It was my understanding there were some, I don’t know how to say it, some unusual activities the last night.”

He walked to the door, and looked to see if anyone was within hearing distance. He returned, sat down on the sofa, and over the next fifteen minutes told me a story of espionage and intrigue of the last twenty-four hours of Floyd and Claude Allen’s life.

After returning from my visit, a phone call to some old friends of mine in the governor’s office substantiated the story I had been told.

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Richmond Evening Journal

March 29, 1913

It has been learned, through unidentified sources, of a twelfth hour attempt to delay, if not commute the death sentence of Floyd and Claude Allen.

After the third continuance, a day of execution was set for March 28. The supporters of the Allens had one last hope. They researched the state code, and felt the lt. governor had the full authority of the office of governor in the absence of the governor. It was reported, by an unknown party, that when it was announced that Governor Mann would be leaving the state two days prior to the execution, that Lt. Governor James Taylor Ellyson was requested by Allen supporters to grant clemency to the prisoners. Prison Superintendent Wood agreed to schedule the electrocution later in the day on the 28th, rather than immediately after sunrise. It is expected that uncertain as to the legality, and possible accusations that might be brought against him, the lt. governor had contacted the state attorney general for clarification.

It was believed that early on the morning of the 27th, a wire was sent, possibly by his teenage son, to Governor Mann while he was in Pennsylvania. He expected later to continue his trip to Princeton University. The wire informed him of what was transpiring back in Richmond. He immediately cancelled his speaking engagement, boarded a train and returned to the Commonwealth. Upon arriving in Leesburg, he immediately sent a wire to the lt. governor that read, ‘I am in Virginia and acting as governor, signed William Hodges Mann.’

He did in fact reach Richmond slightly before midnight, and immediately ordered the execution to continue the next day. Word was not delivered in time to the jurors who were serving as witnesses. They had been sent away earlier that morning and had to be quickly summoned to the prison.

As promised yesterday, we are giving you exclusives each day for the next week. Over those days we will be presenting the Last Statements as prepared by Floyd and Claude Allen, and given to this paper. We begin with that of Claude Allen.

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The Last Statement of Claude Allen

As I am now condemned to die and realize that all hope is gone, I thought it my duty to tell what I know of the trouble for which I have been tried, for which I must pay with my life. Before going further I will give a few things of my past life.

I was born June 11th, 1889, and from my earliest recollection and to the present time I have been taught to speak the truth in everything, and deal honestly with my fellow man, which I have tried to do. Our parents have tried to raise us to feel that we must be honorable and that under no circumstances must we speak falsehoods. When fourteen years old I started in at Fairview Academy, near Hillsville, Virginia, and was there a part of two years and afterwards attended business college at Raleigh, N.C. On account of my mother's health being very bad I decided to stay at home after leaving school and to be of what comfort I could to her, as my brother was married and I was the only child left at home. All my life I tried to live free from trouble with anyone and regardless of the relations between people and others I was never drawn into any of their troubles.

I have known sometime of my father and Dexter Goad being enemies but never thought of their ill feeling ending as it has. I went to Hillsville during my father's trial and heard some of the evidence and from what I heard I had no idea that he would even get a jail sentence and never thought for one moment of any trouble being there. The first I knew of it was when it began and what I did was without any premeditation whatever. There was no plot beforehand or any conspiracy, so far as I know, and I do not believe there was with any of the others. It was all so sudden and unexpected that I had no time to think and did on the spur of the moment something that I had never thought of doing. It is useless for me to repeat here what I have told on the witness stand, as that is known already, and I have no changes to make. Of course there may have been statements made by others very different from mine but if the whole world were against me I would tell all as I saw it just the same. What the other Allens and the Edwardses did and who they shot at I know nothing about. When I saw Dexter Goad shoot at my father I tried to shoot him and he is the only man I shot at.

Some probably think that I shot Judge Massie, but I did not nor did I fire the first shot in the court room. I always have believed and now believe that Judge Massie was a just man and a friend of ours. And I had no reason in the world to take his life or to harm him in any way. I have been accused of conspiring and planning to shoot up the court at Hillsville and other things which I am not guilty of. I had too much love and respect for my dear mother and my sweetheart, if there had been nothing else to keep me from planning a deed which would have separated me from them forever on this earth. No one could have persuaded me into trouble. This all came on so sudden and unexpected and I had no time to think of what was best. If the truth alone had been told I would not be where I am now. but if anyone knowingly testified falsely against me I forgive them and believe some have told such as they knew was false. There is a time coming when we will not be judged by what others say, but by Him who knoweth all things, even our thoughts; and then all will be made right. If I suffer here it will be made right in the great day when everyone must be judged according to their deeds.

The words you have read were transcribed directly from the statement. Neither this reporter, nor The Evening Journal, changed these words in any way. Continue to follow the printing of these statements over the next week.

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