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LEE JUST II SHOT ARTIST'S SKETCH OF HIS WIFE IN THE FRANK AND COURTROOM By JAMES B. NEVIN. If Mr. Luther Z. Rosser’s bite is one-half so dangerous as his growl undoubtedly Is disconcerting and awe-inspiring, theTe will be little save shreds and patches of the prosecution left when the State comes eventually to sum up its case against Leo Frank. Rosser’s examination of Newt Lee was one of the most nerve racking and interesting I ever listened to. • It reminded me much of a big N maftiff worrying and teasing a huge brown rat, and grimly bent eventual ly upon the rats utter annihilation. A witness up against one of Ros ser’s mighty bombardments is in a decidedly uncomfortable predicament —no doubt about that! True, Lee snapped back at Rosser and growled angrily every little bit, end strove this way and that to get away from the Insistent prod of the tremendously menacing mass of hu manity forever in front of him, wor rying, teasing, sneering, and threaten ing, but he could not. Always the terrible Rosser was there—and so, every little bit, Le3 ■would fall back Into the witness chair, with an audible sigh, and say. ever so softly and abjectly, “Yasslr, yassir, Ah guess dat’s so!” Sometimes Lee Countered. Bulldozer Rosser may be, browbeat- er perhips, he still Is far and away the most picturesque figure in the trial as it has progressed to date. The Solicitor (General outspokenly resents the Rosser methods of exam ining wltnesse, and endeavors with all the resourcefulness at his com mand to counteract them so far at naught as he may—but just as plain ly he fears the powerful figure lead ing the case for Frank, and dreads to the very limit the effectiveness of his methods. It must he remembered that the State is relying hargely upon the testimony of two ignorant negroes f jr the conviction of Frank. Conley is the State’s star witness end Newt Lee is its second best bet. Both are densely ignorant,, and, theo retically at least, more or less easy marks for the Rosser method of ex- * amination. Time and again, Lee rallied and came back at his tormenter with telling effect—it is likely altogether that more than bnoe the jury’s sym pathy went out to Lee in large meas ure. while Rosser was griming him— and to the darkey’s occasional salli?sf and adroit sidesteps, the spectators in the court room frequently respond ed readily with approving titters and * guffaws. Still, more than once Rosser mixed the negro up somewhat—and we may hear more of that when the adroit Arnold comes to the bar for argu ment. . , , _, , , ‘Rapiers’ Second the Clubs. And so, it seems to me now that the battle is to divide after this fashion: Rosser is to wield the bludgeon, and Dorsey is to neutralize or ward off its shock wherever and whenever he can. while Arnold and Hooper are to undertake the more skillful and artistic, but none the less deadly, rapier work .. . a Rosser is to smash and bang things around, and Arnold is to puncture, thrust and parry. It will be, in those circumstances, full and fair time ftom small boys and persons of hesitating dispositions to stand from under—but neither Dorsey nor Hooper is made of that variety of human clay. "Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad,” of course and "Luther Rosser has scored many a brilliant victory in the past through the simple profess of making the other fellow mad. And he can make Dorsey mad, too and does, frequently! If only Dorsey had Hooper s poise and unruffled calm, the assaults of Rosser and the aggravating persist ence Of the man would be as harm less as the shots of a popgun against a modern man-of-war. Dorsey Falls Into Trap. » Rut Dorsey isn’t Hooper, and the consequence is that Dorsey gets very * angry now and then, which is ex actly what Rosser is driving al and when Dorsey communicates t of his distress of m.nd anfl temper to the witness on the stand, the physehological condition Rosser is fighting for has been set up, and if he doesn't make th « every time it happens, his hand will > have lost its cunning and he will helie and contradict a lifetime , achievement at the bar. At times, there is something grim- 1v humorous about Rosser—as when, having befuddled a witness and ex asperated him to the very verge of , Mr Rosser will say, with "udfed sarcasm and belittling em phasis "Oh. well, well not quarrel about that—we’ll not quarrel, you an if that doesn't make the witness a thousand times madder than ever before 1 can not imagine why! When it comes to handling a wit- t,ps^ of the caliber of Sergeant Dobbs Mr. Rosser does not perform any particular transformation in his ”e d< samL eS big e massive, “"powerful, crushing, snorting, fighting, destroy ing mass Of humanity, under full mental anil physical steam ahead. His Scowl Good Argument. If anybody in this world is capa- bl P of'lifting himself by his own bootstraps, unquestionably Mr. Ros ser is the man! No one in all the courtroom watches him so closely, and so ap parently so analytically, as does the defendant's wife, Lucile Frank. Frank watches him rather curious ly even quizleally; the elder Mrs. Frank—the defendant's mother—not Li,,, so closely—but the prisoner's wife rarely takes her eyes off her husband's leading counsel. ■. And them is something amazingly fascinating about Mr. Rosser. , Rp is fascinating physically—of course his superb mental equipment is no* debatable—much after the same fashion that old John L. Sulli van used to he. In his palmy days, one of old John L.’s scowls often served to scare an adversary Instantly into a doubt that a second scowl not infrequently evolved rapidly Into despair. Old Jake Kilrain told me once in Washington city that he never was genuinely afraid but once in his life, and that was the first time his an cient enemy, John L. Sullivan, frowned ferociously upon him in the beginning of their first fight—and that he (Kilrain) never got over It. Both Center on Purpose. “If only once or twice he had smiled upon me and looked the least little bit pleasant, I might have licked him,” said white-haired old Jake Kilrain, “but he never did once —Indeed, I never once saw Sullivan smile while fighting, in all the days I have known him!” And I mean It as a compliment to Luther Z. Rosser when I credit him with that same sort of terrible defi niteness of purpose In trying a case. Mr. Rosser lets it be peen. cau tiously and carefully at first, that he had a deadly intent toward Lee. He made it plain by an adroit develop ment of questioning, that he proposed showing, If he could, more in Lee’s connection with this crime than the public latterly has Imagined to be possible. Eventually It dawned upon the thick-witted negro there In the wit ness chair that Rosser was leading up, through all those puzzling and wor rying questions, to a fixed and steady mark, and Lee coud be seen plainly to souirm and twist as he drew in- evitablv nearer and nearer the peril ous brink. Story Virtually Unshaken. He began to shift and back away from questions, to comnlain of inac- curacv in the stenographic reports of the Coroner’s inquest, to evade and become indefinite. Evidently, at one time, the negro was growing afraid, nnd he undertook to be as cunning and as cautious as he might. And vet, with all of that, he stood the ordeal pretty well, and came through relatlvelv unhurt and cer tainly not seriously damaged I think his evidence. a.s an Isolated thing, amounts to little, anvway—but I think it went to the 1ury fairly well unchal lenged, at that! The fighting so far. in-its fuller as- oect, has been so plainly skirmish ing and jockeving for position that raanv spectators must hav.e won dered often, as I did, what sort of accounting that other and far more important sable figure in the Frank trial. Jim Conlev. might be exDected to give of himself under the merci less fire of Rosser. It is about the negro Conlev that the battle will reach Its zenith and the fighting will be the fiercest. After Conley has been disposed of. one way or the other, the case against Frank will be either up or down, ac cording to the status of Conley when his remarkable story has been put to the ultimate test. Will Conlev Stand the Test? Will Conley be as nimble-witted as Lee was? Will he be able to withstand the onslaughts of Rosser and Arnold, even approximately as well as Newt stood them? If he does Conlev thus far has held himself to gether prettv well. His examinations, however, have been altogether one sided. A very different story may be told after he has been up against the best legal talent the defense could secure. Newspapers have reported, from time to time, how Conley was “grill ed” by thus and so—never a party to the defense—and it has been related how well he “stuck to his story” when, after three trials, he apparently suc ceeded in getting hold of a storv he could stick to overnight as a funda mental proposition: hut whether the word “grilled” should not really have been “drilled” never has been per fectly clear in my mind. Conlev ought to have his story well in hand by now. in anv event; and po. if It is a true story, neither Mr. Rosser nor Mr. Arnold will succeed in breaking him down. On the other hand, if Conlev relates an untrue storv. surely Rosser and Arnold will be able to locate the loose joints in It. and when they do Conley should read ap read 11 v as anvbodv the big and sinister danger signal that there and then will loom significantly ahead of him. Rosser Shoots in Dark. As for the examination of Newt Lee bv Mr. Rosser, it impressed me often as a mere shooting in the dark, hop ing to hit something. To my mind there is nothing much to Lee 'save and excepting the one fact that he discovered the dead bodv of little Mary Phagan in the factory cellar. He is a genuine negro, with all .of a negro’s superstitious antipathy for a dead bodv. He went into the cellar on a perfectly natural and ordinary mis sion. and there he discovered the bodv Just so soon as he satisfied himself as to what It was he undoubtedly did as he swore, “light a rag out of thar!” Immediately he called the police, as He bad been instructed to do bv Frank, when he (Lee) first was em ployed a.s a night watchman in the factory. That is all he knows about tTm crime—and it is* all Mr. Rosser ever got ou of him. and ever will get out of him. The remainder of his testimony is relatively unimportant, although, to be sure, there an* bits of it that will serve to account for any seeming un- naturalnesv* in the behavior of Frank Just prior to his departure from thq, factory Saturday afternoon and later along in the evening Battle Has Just Begun. The battle for Leo Frank’s life lib. ertv and honor as a man. the fight to clear his home of the shadow of trag edy forever, has hardly yet begun. The fighting f»o far has been inde cisive. and to neither side has fallen anv advantage worth reckoning upon. The State has sustained itself very well because it hasn’t lost anything — and about as much may be said for the defense. And not until Jim Conley gets into the case will the really big guns be unlimbered. The prisoner and his wife are the center of all eyes in the crowded courtroom. Mrs. Frank is at her husband’s side throughout every session of court. They apparently are unmindful of the gaze of the curious, and converse frequently— often apparently with satisfaction on the progress of the case. Baby Brought to Life By Use of Pulmotor HARRISBURG. PA., July 30.— Forty-four minutes after an eleven- pound baby was born to-day to Mr. and Mrs. Edward Weaver, of this city, without any heart action and no signs of breathing, life was put into it by means' of a pulmotor. It required seven minutes to rush the machine across the city, and after thirty-seven minutes of work the in- fnat began to breathe and cry. Profits of Farmers Average $640 a Year WASHINGTON, July 30.—Farming is not the most profitable business in the world, according to a bulletin of the Department of Agriculture. For the first time in the history of farming in the United States, the de partment has managed to get ac curate data on the subject. It reports that the average income of the American farmer is $640.40 per year. Mrs.: Frank at times turns a withering glance toward the prosecutor’s table. DELUSE IF FREE VOTES CLOSES E Pony Contest Manager Repeats Warning That No Contestant Is Safe—Shetlands Parade. “Red Letter Ballots’’ came in an avalanche Tue^Jay afternoon and evening, burying the clerks in the contest manager’s office. This was the last bonus offer, the last bit of help for the boys and girls who are striving for The Georgian and American ponies. Wednesday, Thurs day—Thursday midnight, and the race is over. Admiring crowds in the business district of Atlanta stood along the sidewalks Wednesday morning to see the 22 ponies which will go to the two winners in each of eleven dis tricts. Though unused to city sights, the ponies behaved very well, and certainly made a splendid showing. District Races Close. There ^ just one thing for the boys and girls to remember—it all w r ill be over Thursday at midnight. There are close races in almost every dis trict. The boy or girl who is nosed out of first place by a very few' votes will regret for years that he did not see just a few more people the last day; that he did not try for at least one more subscription than the num ber he thought enough. Some of the most confident—the bragging sort—are in most danger of losing. This is the “tip” from the contest manager. No one is safe. ^nd Thursday is at hand. Followed Advice. Hardly one of the contestants over looked his opportunity, offered by the ‘Red Letter Ballots,” to get 2.000 votes for $2. Some of the boys and girls brought in dozens of these “Red Letter Ballots.” They followed the advice of the con test manager and concentrated all their efforts on subscriptions to The Sunday American up until Tuesday night. That offer now is history. A brlet. sharp sprint, with no favors asked or given, and the pony contest will end in a blaze of glory. Frank and Wife Perfect in Poise; Mother Pitiful Figure Frank sits calmly with his hands crossed in his lap as the hours pass. By L. F. WOODRUFF Arm akimbo, glasses firmly set. changing position seldom, Leo M. Frank sits through hie Trial with his thoughts in Kamchatka. Terra del Fuego, or the Antipodes, r-o far as the spectators in the courtroom can judge. He may realize that if the twelve men he faces decide that he is guilty of the murder of Mary Phagan, the decree of earthly court will be that his sole hope of the future will be an appeal to the Court on High. Hit- mind may constantly carry the im pression of the likelihood of the solemn reading of the death war rant, the awful march to the death chamber, the sight of the all terrify ing gibbet, the dreadful ascension of its steel stair*', the few words of re ligious consolation—and then the drop. Frank's Face a Mask. But if he does realize these things, his face it* as completely masked against emotion as that of a skilled poker player. To all appearances, he is the de fendant in a civil suit on a contract of $100, and he has the money in his pocket to pay the Judgment if the court should rule against him. An outsider entering the court room, uninformed, would look in vain for the man whose chief interest is in the trial. There is a world of earnestness written on the faces of the array of counsel. The Juror** sit with fixed faces. Their nervous fanning telis their emotion. The court is all in terest and the spectators lean for ward, eurg strained to catch every word, eyes keen to observe every move. But Leo Frank sits there placid, as a pool, calm as a champion about to go forth to assured victory. If any thing, hi** appearance indicates that the trial is not a trial to him. It is simply a detail of a misfortune that is through circumstance. Frank’s months in prison have not affected fiim physically. His eyes are extremely luminous. His olive skin is exceedingly claar. He holds his spare frame erectly. He speaks seldom. Occasionally he turns to pass a word w#h his wife. Every now and then he has a brief conference with hi» counsel. More often he gazes straight ahead—at nothing. He sits next to the massive Luther Rosser. When Rosser is on his feet he is next to studious-appearing Reub Arnold. When he Speaks to them, his voice i« impassionate and his sen tences are carefully framed. Frank’s Wife Confident. Behind him is his wife. Mrs. Frank is remarkably handuome woman. She,shares the stoicism of her hus band in the trial. Though she has not missed one minute of the hear ing, she has never shown that she realizes that the outcome of the case may change her to a widow. Twice after the court has taken recesses, and Frank has been turned over to his deputy sheriff guardian, she has embraced and kissed him. But afterward *»he has walked from the courtroom, head thrown back, shoulders erect, apparently un concerned. On tire street she would be taken for a woman out for an aft ernoon of shopping rather than the woman who bears the name of the man charged with the blackest crime known to Atlanta criminology. Then to the left of her site the pa thetic figure of the trial. To those w’ho believe Frank guilty, his person ality is not one to arouse pity. His self-assurance is too apparent. His wife hardly stirs sympathy. She, too, is apparently confident of victory. But there’s the mother. Hour after hour she cits and listens to,men try ing to send her firstborn to the gal lows. Hour after hour she is thrilled by the skillful struggle that his coun- s< 1 makes to have the family name cleared of the stain brought by the charge that now rests against it. Mother's Eyes Always on Son. Mr*'. Frank is a motherly-looking woman. Her form is ample, and in her younger days was evidently a woman of striking appearance. She is typical of thi mother of her race— the revered head of the Hebrew fam ily. In this trial, though, her eyes are practically always fixed on her son Their yearning light spreads through the big courtroom. Their every flash vends the mes sage that she wants him back on her breast a free man. No single Gature of the trial es capes her When the prosecution scores, another line i*» added to the face that has been wrinkled by the three months of waiting and horror. When the defense seems* to have an advantage, there is a joy expressed as great a.s the power of Niagara When the attorneys ask a question, her eyes are fixed on the questioner! When the witness answers, her gaze is on him. When the court rules, every movement of hi** lips is marked by her. But there is always an eye for her son. During the trial he wished a drink «*f water. The pitcher was on the desk of his counsel, far from his seat and near hers. When he looked for it, she divined his wish. She was on her feet in a second. The glass was in her hand. The water was poured out. In her trembling grasp it was passed to him. As he took It. his stoicism broke. He smiled his acknowledgment of the IHtle act of kindness, and there was a wealth of love in hi** smile, and she smiled back reassurance. Su perlatives couldn’t tell the meaning of that smile. • • • Mery Phagan is dead She died horribly, the victim of as cruel a beast -c s ever polluted the soil of the Southland. But Mary Phagan is dead; she sleeps peacefully beneath a flowered sod. The mother of Leo Frank is alive, and be her son innocent or guilty, the mother is the pitiful figure in this black ani baffling mystery. mimic FLASHES PIERCE WEARYING SQUABBLES OF L By 0. B. KEELER. The trouble Is, plain human emo tions won’t stick at concert pitch all the time. And so the Frank trial, after the first twenty minutes, say, becomes much like any other trial. Except in the flashes. You get into the courtroom with some formality. At once you are in the midst of order. It is rather pon derous, made-to-order order. But it is order. Officials stalk about, walking on the balls of their feet, like pussy cats. But they do not purr. They request you to be seated. You must not stand up; you must sit down. Unfortunately, you must stand up to walk to a place to si* down. And that grieves the of ficials. They mop their faces. One in particular uses an entirely red bandana handkerchief—sometimes for for his face, sometimes to flag stand ing spectators, who must sit dowm. There is order. Thrills Get Temporary Check. Until you are thoroughly sitting down there is no chance for the con cert pitch to vibrate. Human emo tions are constituted so curiousl^ that a rasping collar has been known to overbalance the dread presercc of the King of Terrors. Honest persons have admitted this. And the grim por tent of the Frank trial produces no thrills while you are stepping on other people’s feet. Being seated, the first thing you do is to perspire gently. That of itself is not romantic. Also it interferes with the concert pitch. It Is hard to reconcile perspiration and cold pric kles back of the ears. You get the first tingle when you pick out the accused. Your neighbor does not help you do this. One’s neighbor at a trial rarely knows any thing about anything connected with it. You pick out the prisoner because you have seen many pictures of him. He i.« one of those whose pictures look like them. You are quite certain who it is. First Chord a Mere Tinkle. But the opening chord of the con cert pitch is disappointing. It is not majestic and soul-stirring. Frank ly, it is more of a tinkle. Here is a slim little man. He is dark. His face is sharply cut and lean. His eyes are well opened, back of thick lenses. * * * That was the first real tingle. * • • Did those eyes glare down upon the huddled figure of Mary Phagan in the echoing loneliness of the pencil factory that Saturday afternoon? Glared through the thick lenses? The grotesquery jars oddly. The thrill pastes. There is Rube Arnold, objecting to something. It is among the duties of counsel for the defense to be constantly injured. Mr. Arnold is good at that. He is not going to fail, if the court please, in his full duty to his client, who sits there. And the particular part of Mr. Ar nold's duty at this moment is to s^e that his learned brother does not get before the jury from this witness any of his (the witness’) ideas as to how the defendant looked the morning aft er the tragedy at the pencil factory. Mr. Arnold Philosophizes. Mr. Arnold begs to submit that an officer, if it please the court, thinks everybody looks guilty. Mr. Arnold begs to submit further that the hu man face is the most inscrutable thing In the world. And Mr. Arnold will say— You discover the defendant’s wife and mother, and lose the thread of Mr. Arnold’s philosophy. They sit by his side. The mothers face is of the inscrutable type pic tured by Mr. Arnold. The wife’3 face. * • * That was thrill No. 2. * • • You realize In a flash what the Frank trial means to her. * • * She watches the witnesses more closely than her husband. She moves her fan nervously at times. She re gards the prosecutor and his assist ant with a certain contemptuous de fiance. * * • The tingle lasts un til you realize she is chewing gum. Mr. Arnold’s philosophic objection has spun itself out. Mr. Dorsey re sumes his questioning. Mr. Dorsey has a querulous manner of asking , questions. Mr. Arnold’s Injured ob jections may explain that. The Pathos of a Dress. The testimony just now is not thrilling. It has to do with a stair way and an office and some very usual-looking cord or heavy twine. The witness has to get up frequently and point out things on a framed plan of the pencil factory that hangs on the wall where the jury can see it. He uses an umbrella. He may be pointing out the very spot where Mary Phagan * • * Rut the handle of the umbrella Is bent. Is it his own umbrella? It looks like a woman’s. * * * Where did Mr. Dorsey get that twine, anyway? Oh. the mittcape. There are other things In the suitcase. • • * A little heap of things on the floor of the witness stand—a crumpled dress, a hat. * * • And that time you wink your eyes very hard, because they sting. What was In that little girl's mind as she put on that hat for the last time? What painrtaking care had ahe used, to make it her “best” hat—what needle pricks, maybe, in the small fingers? And the lavender dress. * * * And the end of all, in the dust and dirt of the pencil factory basement. Just for a flash it’s all real. And cold. And grim. And pitiful. Rosser Soars—Regardless. Then Mr. Arnold objects again, and there is another dreary wrangle, and the idea gets* uppermost in your head that the city detective is a most lit eral-minded witness. It is confusing. Mary Phagan’s sister Is there. She wears a black hat and an unaccus tomed veil. You look in vain for tributes to emotion. She shows a mild interest In Mr. Roeser’s pomp and circumstance of language. In stead of another thrill, you gain a hazy Impression that Mr. Rosser is an orator who loves to soar—who would soar In fact, when he might get along faster by walking. You hear the purr of the fans, the shuffle of feet, the clearing of throats. You are senrtble that it is very warm and that the Judge twice has handled his palm leaf as if it were a gavel. You see a Juror yawn luxuriously and once more find proof that yawning is contagious. Oh. yes—after the first twenty minutes (say), the Frank trial Is much like any other, except Again a Thrill—Then Reaction. “A big splotch that looked like blood.” “Where was it?” “Well, some of it was over in the comer. * * * It looked as if it had been swept over with something white. * * * The rest ■** “Well, tell the jury where was the rest.” “Around a nail that stuck out. * * * The top of the nail was cov ered with blood, and * * *” You sit back and your hands hurt from squeezing the arms of the seat. They are talking about a stairw'ay again, and the city detective is point ing out something on the map with the bent-handled umbrella. No use. Plain human emotions simply won’t stick at concert pitch, even for the terrific romance of murder. Once in a while, over the w'hirr of fans and the shuffle of feet and the interminable squabbling of counsel, you feel the shadow of a crime—an uglier crime than that which took Eugene Aram out of Lynn, “with gyves upon his w r rist.” But only in the flashes. SEASHORE EXCURSION AUGUST 7. Jacksonville, Brunswick, St. Simon, Cumberland, At lantic Beach, $6.00—Limit ed 6 days. Tampa, Fla., $8 —Limited 8 days. TWO SPECIAL TRAINS. 10 p. m. solid Pullman train. 10:15 p. m. Coach train. Make Reservations Now. SOUTHERN RAILWAY. PAY ME FOR CURES ONLY If you have been taking treatment for weeks and month) and pay ing out yaur hard earned money wfthout being cured, don’t you think It t« high time to accept DR. HUGHES’ GRAND OFFER? You will certainly not be out auy more moan If not cured. Cetf ci tation and Examination are Free for the next thirty days. If I decide that your condition will not yield readily to my treat ment. 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