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TTTE ATLANTA GEORGIAN AND NEWS. CONLEY TELLS OF DISPOSAL OF PHAGAN GIRL'S BODY,. Factory Sweeper Recites Details of Tragedy, Accusing Leo M. Frank Jl CONLEY’S STORY AS MATTER OF FACT AS IT IT HERE OF R T J Continued From Page 1. accusation against the young factory superintendent who sat eyeing him coolly and impassively. Conley fol lowed this charge with a thrilling narrative of the grew- some events of ihat day at the factory in which he said he had a part. “He said he had struck her too hard when sin- fought back at him and that she had fallen back and hit her head against something,’’ was the negro’s statement in effect. As every spectator in the crowded courtroom hung on his words, Conley unfolded his dramatic story. He related the details already familiar to the public and added to them a story of revolting actions unprintable in their nature which he ascribed to the young super intendent. Glibly he recited his tale of horror. So fast the words fell from his lips that the stenographers were hard put to keep up with him and the jurors, straining forward in their seats, found difficulty in following his recital. Gripped Audience With Story. He sat there, an uncouth, thick-lipped ignorant negro, but he told a story that gripped his auditors with a compelling inteerst that an eolquent-tongued orator could not have aroused. Clad in a suit of clothes which the officers only re cently got for him to take the place of those he had worn ever since the time he was arrested, he entered the courtroom with the shadow of a smile on his lips. He was pleased with the interest he was attracting. What did anything matter so long as he was the center of the white folks’ interest now. A blue shirt, newly laundered, but ill-fitting, was unbuttoned at the throat. He carried his old cap in his hands as he made his way half proudly to the witness box. He never was confused. While giving his sensa tional testimony, he rested his elbows easily on the arms of his chair. Now and then he arose to illustrate some movement of Frank or himself, lie turned his face to the jury and talked to them fearlessly and rapidly. He never wavered. Even when massive Luther Rosser began the grill ing inquisition which was barely well started when the noon recess came, the negro maintained the same poise. He had a story to tell and he told it in his own way. He refused to be led by Rosser. If the attorney made a suggestion of what happened, Conley was very likely to reply: “No; that ain’t so; it was this way—” and then go on and relate the incident in his own way. Details Tragic Day in Order. Conley began his testimony from early in the morn ing of the fateful Saturday on which Mary Phagan met her death. He told of going to the factory at 8:80 in the morning because Frank told him Friday that he wanted him there at that time. He testified that Frank had said he wanted him to be there to watch at the door, as he had been in the habit of doing on other oc casions when Frank had women visitors in his office. He detailed each move from that time until Frank went to Montag’s and returned and carried his thrilling narrative along to the moment when Frank, he said, called him from the top of the stairs on the second floor and directed him to go back and get a girl whom he had struck too hard and who had hit her head against something. From that point he related in minute detail a story of carry ing the body, with Frank’s help, to the front of the building and down the elevator. Tells of Disposal of the Bod y. An audience sat spellbound as he narrated the ghastly story of bundling the limp body into some crocus bagging and starting on his trip to the basement. Unconcernedly, as though it were an everyday matter, he told of the burden becoming too heavy and of Frank coming with an oath on his lips to help him. When he had finished this grisly portion of his testimony, he was asked concerning Frank's actions at other times. He respond ed with a revolting story on incidents which he said had occurred in Frank’s office and in the metal room. There was nothing lacking of the dramatic. The very cord that was found about the neck of the murdered -1 was given the negro and he threw it about his own black neck. He showed exactly where it made its deep impress in the ten der neck of the little factory girl. He drew the noose tighter and tighter. Frank looked on quiet ly with never a quiver of his features. As lie slipped it taut about his neck he demonstrated the exact positron of the rope as it, ac cording to the State’s contention, strangled the life of the girl. Other Women Figure in Details. He told of other times when he said Frank had made appoint ments with women at the factory. He told of alleged incidents in Frank’s office at which the young superintendent’s wife hung her head in momentary shame, her face bathed in crimson. He recalled a Thanksgiving Day in particular when a tall, heavdy built woman entered the factory and he was instructed to watch the door for inopportune visitors. He declared it was this duty he was performing on the first floor of the factory when Mary Phagan came to her death. Only once during his narrative was there a lightening of the tragic interest with which it was hedged. This was shortly after the cross-examination had begun. Frank and his wife both laughed heartily when Attorney Ros- TRiAL JUDGE L S. ROAN By 0. B. I Jim Conley, hewer of wood and I drawer of water. On the witness, stand at the Frank trial this morning, Jim unfolded a tale whose lightest word—you know the rest. It was a story that flexed attention to the breaking point; a story that w'hitened knuckles and pressed finger nails into palms; a story that absorbed the usual court room stir and rustle, and froze the hearers into lines upon lines of strain ing faces. And Jim Conley told that story as he might have told the story of a day’s work at well-digging, or driv ing a dray, or sweeping up the sec ond floor at the National Pencil Fac tory. Jim was matter-of-fact. A Story in Monosyllables. And the farther boundary of the hideous slips very near as you lis ten to a matter-of-fact narrative, in words of one syllable, such as that Jim Conley told this morning. A hewer of wood—and Jim Conley slipped the strangling cord over his oVn neck, to show how he said he had found it about the neck of Mary Phagan. A drawer of water—and Jim Conley’s work-worn hands were quick to twist and turn the burlap, wrap ping and lifting and bearing an im aginary horrid burden. True or false, Jim Conley told his tale as a part of the day’s work. He spoke rapidly; very rapidly. His vocabulary was small, and he seemed to know all the words well. Mr. Dorsey asked him few questions, once the real business was reached. The defense opposed few r er objec tions. It was with Jim Conley. His Face Never Changes. Not a line of his face changed. His broad, low forehead was unwrinkled. He was prompt to eke out his mea ger descriptive powers with ges tures. “Mr. Frank, he set in his chair, and ser facetiously referred to Frank A. Hooper, admittedly the Beau Brummell of the trial lawyers, as “that old weazened-up fellow with the gray hair. ’ ’ Conley was trying to describe the color of the hair of Daisy Hopkins, one of the girls figuring in the testimony. He pointed out that of Attorney Hooper as most like that of the girl. A ripple of laughter arose in the courtroom in which the prisoner and his wife joined. Conley’s Story In Detail; Women Barred By Judge Thorp was a murmur of excitement following the calling of Jim Conley; there was a wait of several min utes, officers having just left the police station with the negro a minute or two before he was called. Judge Roan impatiently ordered the Sheriff to bring in the witness. A number of spectators who were crowded up too close to the jury box were moved back by the court deputies. “The Sheriff hasn’t got Jim Conley,” said Attor ney Rosser, after a statement from Deputy Sheriff Plen- nie Miner. “Mr. Starnes will bring him in,” returned Solicitor Dorsey. “See if Mrs. White has arrived,” then requested Dorsey. “She has a very young baby, and when I had her subpenaed this morning she said that she would have to send to the factory and get her husband before she could come.” Courtroom Quiet as Conley Enters. “You may call her later,” said Mr. Rosser, “there won’t be any objection.” Jim Conley was brought into the courtroom just at this time. He t$ok the witness chair and was sworn in while in the chair. Solicitor Dorsey examined him and everyone leaned forward, while extreme quiet pre vailed. Q. What is your name?—A. James Conley. Q. Do you know Leo M. Frank?—A. Yes. Q. Point him out.—(Conley did so.) Q. Did you have any conversation with him on Friday after noon before the murder of Mary Phagan?—(Conley’s answer was indistinct.) Q. How long had you been working at the penci^ factory?—A. About two years. “Frank Told Me to Come Back.” Q. What did he say to you on Friday?—A. He said for me to come back at 8:30 o’clock Saturday morning. Q. Did you go?—A. Yes, about 8:30 o’clock. Q. Who got there first, you or Mr. Frank?—A. We met at the front door. Q. What did he say?—A. He said I was too early for what he wanted me to do. I told him I thought he wanted me to do what I had been doing on every Saturday. Q. What had you been doing on other Saturdays? “I object,” said Rosser. “This witness should not be led.” Q. What did you do this Saturday?—A. I watched the door while Mr. Frank said he was going upstairs for a little chat. Q. Was anybody else with him? “I must object again,” interrupted Rosser. Q. Who was there?—A. Well, girls would come up. One time another man and another girl come up. Q. What sort of looking woman was she?—A. She was a heavy woman. Q. What time was this?—A. Thanksgiving day, 1912. Watched at Door. Q. What did you do?—A. I stayed down at the door and watched. Q. Now state all that Mr. Frank said to you that morning. A. He said I was a little early; that he wanted me to do what I had done on other Saturdays. Q. What was that?—A. To watch while he went up and had a little chat. Q. What did Mr. Frank do then?—A. He went over to Mr. Mon tag’s. Q. That is the corner of Nelson and Forsyth streets, isn’t it? (Dorsey showed a rough sketch to the witness.)—A. Yes. Q. What time did you get to Nelson and Forsyth streets? A. Somewhere between 10 and 10:30. Q. Did you see Mr. Frank?—A. Yes, he passed me going to ward Mon tag’s. Q. What did he say?—A. “Ha, ha, you are here, are you?” Q. Did you see him later?—A. Yes, when he came back. Q. Did he say anything?—A. No, except to come over. Followed Him to Factory. Q. Did you go, and what way?—A. He passed Alverson’s gro eery store and bumped against a man. Q. What else?—A. He stopped at Curtis’ drug store and drank something. Q. Did you follow him?—A. Yes. Q. When you got to the factory, what happened?—A. He opened the door and showed me how to lock the door. He said that he was going to have a young lady up there and he wanted me to lock the door. He said that he would stamp his foot and that would be a signal for me to come up. Q. What else?—A. He knocked me in the chest kind of play ful-like and said: “Don’t let Darley see you.” Q. What did he do then?—A. He went up to his office. Q. Who else did you see?—A. 1 saw Darley come in and come KEELER. he twis’ about, this way and that; he twis’ like m• was too far to the front, or too far to the back, or the chair was too big, or too little. * • • And then he do his handg this way (clasping them), and he look up at the ceiling, and he say: ‘Why should I hang? I got rich ^people in Brook lyn.’ ” “And what did Jim do then?” “Me? I look up at the ceiling, too. But I ain't see nothing.” And again, after the fearful visit to the basement: “Mr. Frank, he stumble like that when he get out of the elevator, and he wipe his face and he say, ‘Gee, that was an awful hard job.’ And I say, 'Pshaw, Mr. Frank, your job wasn’t nothin’ like what mine was.' ” “And what time was it?” "I look up at the clock and the clock say ’fo minutes of 2.” Story Unfolds Like a Film. True or false, Jim Conley’s story unrolled Itself with all the speed and certainty of a picture film. He did not hesitate once. His narrative was packed with detail. But there was no emotion in the telling. “Yes, sir—I didn’t w r ant to go back there with them notes because I was scared,” Jim said readily. But he might have been talking of not want ing to go down in a well on a “job of work,” because the rope didn’t look good. And about this grim task of wrap ping the dead girl in burlap, “like you do up the wash in a sheet on a Mon day morning” and the struggling jour ney to the basement and the scrawled notes, and all the rest—why did Jim Conley do it? “Mr. Frank, he tell me to do It.” True or false, there spoke the crude training of the centuries, the enduring command laid from near the begin ning on the hewers of wood and draw ers of water—on the servants of the < world. down. Q. Who was with him?—A. Miss Mattie Smith. Q. What was she doing?—A. She had a handkerchief as if she was crying-. * Q. What, if anything, did Miss Mattie Smith have in her hand? A. She had a pocketbook, a handkerchief and an umbrella. Q. Was she in a good humor or a bad humor?—A. She looked like she was crying. Q. How long did Miss Smith stay in the factory?—A. Just a short time. “You promised me you wouldn’t lead this witness,” inter rupted Mr. Rosser. ‘ ‘ I promised you I would do the best I could, ’ ’ replied Dorsey. Q. Was this before or after you went to Nelson street?—A. It was after. Conley then told of seeing a number of employees come in. Q. Who else did you see?—A. Miss Mary Perkins. Q. Who?—A. Miss Mary Perkins, I called her, the girl who is dead. Q. What else did you hear?—A. I heard footsteps going back towards the metal room, and in a little bit I heard a scream. Q. What happened next?—A. Miss Monteen Stover came in. In a little bit she went out. Q. What did you hear then?—A. Heard footsteps like some body running on tip toe from Mr. Frank’s office towards the metal room. In a minute I heard the steps running back to the metal room. Q. What happened after that?—A. I sat down on a box and went to sleep. Q. What was the next thing you heard?—A. Mr. Frank stamp ing on the floor three times. Then he called me. f Q. What did he say?—A. He asked me if I noticed a little girl' go out. I told him I saw one, but didn’t see the other. Q. How long was it before you heard the whistle?—A. Not long. Q. What did you do?—A. I unlocked the door and went up stairs. Mr. Frank was standing at the head at the stairs shivering t and shaking. , Q. Did he have anything in his hand?—A. A cord. Q. What did he say?—He asked me if I noticed a little girl come in. I told him I saw two. Q. Did you ever see any girls in Frank’s office alone with him? —A. One day I saw him down on his knees in front of a girl in his office and she was stroking his hair. * Says Frank Said He Hit Gi rl. Q. When Frank called you upstairs that Saturday afternoon, what did he say?—A. He said he had struck a little girl with his fist and she had fallen against something and hurt herself. Q. What else?—A. He told me he wanted me to help him carry her down stairs. He said there was money in it for me. Q. What else did you do?—A. I went back to the dressing room where he told me she was and found a girl lying flat of her back with a cord around her neck— Dorsey here interrupted the witness. Q. About where did you find this girl when you went back there?—Conley took a parasol and pointed out where he had found the girl, hsing the diagram to show it). A.—It was right in front of the ladies’ washroom. Q. What did Mr. Frank do?—A. He said “sh-h, sh-h, sh-h. M I told him she was dead. He told me to get a piece of cloth out of a box back there and wrap up her head. > Solicitor Dorsey had to admonish Conley not to talk so fast. , A large piece oi cotton bale wrapping was exhibited. ♦ Q. What is that, Jim?—A. That is a piece of cloth like I got out of the box and rolled the girl’s body into. Q. Why did you do it?—A. Because Mr. Frank told me to. Q. How did she look?—A. She had her hands stretched out