Address to the Jury in the Munn Trial
The United States vs. Daniel W. Munn — Chicago whiskey conspiracy, 1876.

by Robert G. Ingersoll
(1876)

From The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll (Dresden Edition, 1900–1902), Volume 10.
Source: https://thegreatagnostic.com/works/munn-trial/
Public domain. CC0 / Public Domain Mark 1.0.

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• The United States vs. Daniel W. Munn, Deputy Supervisor of
    Internal Revenue, who was indicted under Section 5440 of the
    Revised Statutes of the United States.
    There was an unusual rush to obtain admission to the United
    States District Courtroom yesterday to listen to the closing
    arguments of counsel in the Munn whiskey conspiracy trial
    which has attracted so much attention during the past ten
    days. The stalwart deputy who guards the entrance to this
    judicial precinct was compelled to employ his entire
    strength and power of persuasion to keep the eager, anxious
    crowd from trespassing on the convenience and dignity of the
    court. About ten o'clock the Court took the bench, and Col.
    Ingersoll walked into the room, took off a broad-brimmed
    felt hat, which gives the barrister, while he has it on,
    somewhat the appearance of a full-grown, well-developed
    Quaker in good standing in the society to which he belongs.
    When he has the hat removed, however, the counsellor's
    appearance undergoes a marked change. He then looks like the
    crop-haired follower of the house of Montague in the
    Shakespearean play. He sat down on a crazy old chair which
    threatened every moment to break down beneath his weight,
    and listened to the remarks of Judge Doolittle for the
    remainder of the morning, until it came his time to talk.
    Colonel Ingersoll never troubles himself to take notes of
    anything. What he cannot recollect he does not have any use
    for.
    Judge Doolittle occupied the morning session until the time
    for adjournment at one o'clock, with a review of the case on
    the side of the defence. He was followed by Mr. Ingersoll in
    the afternoon.
    At two o' clock the court-room was more crowded than before,
    and at that hour Mr. Ingersoll appeared in the forum and
    delivered his speech in behalf of the defendant.—The Times,
    Chicago, Ills., May 23, 1876.

IF the Court please and the gentlemen of the jury: Out of an abundance
of caution and, as it were, an extravagance of prudence, I propose to
make a few remarks to you in this case. The evidence has been gone over
by my associates, and arguments have been submitted to you which, in
my judgment, are perfectly convincing as far as the innocence of this
defendant is concerned. I am aware, however, that there is a prejudice
against a case of this character. I am aware that there is a prejudice
against any man engaged in the manufacture of alcohol. I know there is
a prejudice against a case of this kind; and there is a very good reason
for it. I believe to a certain degree with the district attorney in this
case, who has said that every man who makes whiskey is demoralized. I
believe, gentlemen, to a certain degree, it demoralizes those who make
it, those who sell it, and those who drink it. I believe from the time
it issues from the coiled and poisonous worm of the distillery, until it
empties into the hell of crime, dishonor, and death, that it demoralizes
everybody that touches it. I do not believe anybody can contemplate the
subject without becoming prejudiced against this liquid crime. All we
have to do, gentlemen, is to think of the wrecks upon either bank of the
stream of death—of the suicides, of the insanity, of the poverty, of
the ignorance, of the distress, of the little children tugging at the
faded dresses of weeping and despairing wives, asking for bread; of the
men of genius it has wrecked; the millions struggling with imaginary
serpents produced by this devilish thing. And when you think of the
jails, of the almshouses, of the asylums, of the prisons, of the
scaffolds upon either bank—I do not wonder that every thoughtful man is
prejudiced against the damned stuff called alcohol. And I know that we,
to a certain degree, have to fight that prejudice in this case; and so I
say, for this reason among others, I deem it proper that I should submit
to you, gentlemen, the ideas that occur to my mind upon this subject.

It may be proper for me to say here that I thank you, one and all, for
the patience you have shown during this trial. You have patiently heard
this testimony; you have patiently given your attention, I believe, to
every word that has fallen from the lips of these witnesses, and for one
I am grateful to you for it.

Now, gentlemen, understanding that there is this prejudice, knowing at
the time the case commenced that it existed, I asked each one of you
if there was any prejudice in your minds which in your judgment would
prevent your giving a fair and candid verdict in this case, and you all,
honestly, I know, replied that there was not. The district attorney,
Judge Bangs, stated to you in the opening of this case, for the purpose
of preparing your minds for the examination of this testimony, that you
must, first of all, divest your minds of sympathy. I do not say that,
gentlemen, neither would I say it were I the attorney of the Government
of the United States, but I do say this: Divest yourselves of prejudice
if you have it, but do not, gentlemen, divest yourselves of sympathy.
What is the great distinguishing characteristic of man? What is it that
distinguishes you and me from the lower animals—from the beasts? More,
I say, than anything else, human sympathy—human sympathy. Were it not
for sympathy, gentlemen, the idea of justice never would have entered
the human brain. This thing called sympathy is the mother of justice,
and although justice has been painted blind, never has she been
represented as heartless until so represented by the district attorney
in this case. I tell you there is no more sacred, no more holy, and
no purer thing than what you and I call sympathy; and the man who is
unsympathetic is not a man. Gentlemen, the white breast of the lily is
filthy as compared to the human heart perfumed with love and sympathy. I
do not want you to divest yourselves of sympathy, neither do I want
you to try the case entirely upon sympathy, but I want you sympathetic
enough to put yourselves honestly in the place of this defendant. Now,
gentlemen, as a matter of fact, this case resolves itself into simply
one point; all the rest is nothing; all the rest is the merest fog that
can be brushed from the mind with a wave of the hand, and it is all
resolved down to simply one point, and that is: Is Jacob Rehin worthy of
credit? Has Jacob Rehm told against this defendant a true story?

Now, that is all there is in this case. The other points that they
raise, and which I shall allude to before I get through, are valuable
only as they cast a certain amount of suspicion upon the defendant, but
the real point is, and the attorneys for the Government know it, Is Mr.
Jacob Rehm's story worthy of credit? Did he tell the truth? Judge Bangs
felt that was the only question, and for that reason, in advance, he
defended the reputation of Jacob Rehm for truth and veracity; and he
made to the jury this remarkable statement: "The reputation of Jacob
Rehm for truth and veracity is good. It spreads all over the city of
Chicago like sunlight." That was the statement made by the district
attorney of the United States. I do not believe that he would swear to
that part of his speech. It was an insult to every person on this jury.
It was an insult to this court; it was an insult to the intelligence of
every bystander, that the reputation of Jacob Rehm spread like sunlight
all over the city of Chicago! My God! what kind of sunlight do you mean?
Think of it!

Now, then, gentlemen, he knew it was necessary to defend the character
of Mr. Rehm; he knew it was necessary to defend that statement. He knew
that the testimony of Mr. Rehm was the only nail upon which the jury
could possibly hang a verdict of guilty in this case.

And now I propose to examine a little the testimony of Mr. Jacob Rehm. I
believe it was stated by Judge Bangs that one of the best tests of truth
was that a lie was at war with all the facts in the universe, and that
every fact standing, as it were, on guard, was a member of the police of
the universe to arrest all lies.

Let me state another truth. Every fact in the universe will fit every
other fact in the universe. A lie never did, never will, fit anything
but another lie made to fit it. Never, never! A lie is unnatural. A lie,
in the nature of things, is a monstrosity. A lie is no part of the great
circle, including the universe within its grasp, and consequently, as I
said before, will fit nothing except another lie. Now, then, to examine
the testimony of a witness, you examine into its naturalness, into its
probability, because you expect another man to act something as you
would under the same circumstances. We have no other way to judge other
people except by our own experience and an authenticated record of the
experience of others, consequently, when a man is telling a story, you
have to apply to it the test of your own experience, and as I say the
recorded tests of other honest men.

Now, let us suppose just for a moment that the testimony of Mr.
Jacob Rehm is true. Let us suppose it. It has been stated to you, and
admirably stated, by Judge Doolittle,—admirably stated,—that it was
the height of absurdity to suppose that a man would do as he did for
nothing. But let me put it in another light somewhat. According to
the testimony of Mr. Jacob Rehm, he first tried to stop this stealing.
Nobody offered him any money to stop it, but he simply went to the
collector, Irwin, and said they were stealing, and that it must be
stopped; and thereupon Collector Irwin changed the gaugers for the
purpose of stopping the stealing. A few days thereafter, somebody came
to him and wanted the stealing to commence, and he told them they would
have to pay for it, and the amount they would have to pay for it, and
he then went to Collector Irwin, whom he supposed at that time to be
a perfectly honest and upright man, and told him, in short, that they
wanted to steal, and would give five hundred dollars a month. Irwin
said, "Go ahead."

He admits that they did steal. He admits that they made a bargain with
him. He admits that that happened, and he assigned all these gaugers and
store-keepers. He admits that he did that for two years. He admits that
he received at least one hundred and twenty thousand dollars of this
money. He admits that in order to carry out this scheme he knew that
every distiller would have to sign a lie every time he made a report to
the Government. He admits that he knew every gauger would have to swear
to a lie at the end of every month in his report of the transactions of
each day. He admits that every store-keeper would be guilty of perjury
every time he made a report. He admits that he knew that the thing that
he was committing for two years was a daily penitentiary offence. He
admits that he put himself in the power of all these gaugers and all
these store-keepers, and all these distillers and rectifiers,—put it
in their power to have him arrested for a penitentiary offence at any
moment during the whole two years, and yet he tells you that he did this
absolutely for nothing! He tells you every cent he received he divided
and paid over; that he never kept a solitary dollar, except it may be
for a box of cigars. I want the attorney for the Government to tell this
jury that he believes that story. And if he does tell you so, gentlemen,
I will give you notice now that you need not believe any other word Mr.
Ayer says—if he says he believes that.

Now, then, what more? He knew that all these men were committing these
penitentiary offences, and that he was putting himself in the power of
all these men; and what was his motive? What, gentlemen, was his object?

It is impossible for me to imagine. If he got no money, if he made
nothing out of this transaction, it is impossible for me to imagine
why he embarked in such a course of crime. Why then did he say to
you, gentlemen, that he paid all this money over? It was to build up a
reputation with you. It was to make you think that whereas he paid this
all over, that whereas he did all this business simply to accommodate
his friends, that he was worthy of credit in his statement of this case.
He told you that he did not keep a dollar simply to make a reputation
with you. What did he want a reputation with you for? So that he would
be believed. And what did he want to be believed for? So that he could
send Munn to the penitentiary and, as the price of Munn's incarceration,
get his own liberty. That is the reason he swore it, and there is no
other reason in the world. Is it probable a man would commit all these
crimes for nothing? Is it possible that he would hire and bribe other
men to commit these crimes for nothing? I ask you; I ask your common
sense; I appeal to your brains: Is it probable that he would do all that
absolutely for nothing? Is it probable he would lay himself liable to
the penitentiary every hour in the day for two years for nothing? There
is and can be but one answer to such a question as that. Why, gentlemen,
if his statement is true that he did all this for nothing, he is the
most disinterested villain, the most self-sacrificing and self-denying
thief of which the history of the world gives any record. Is it
possible?

Is it possible, I say, that a man would make himself the sewer of all
the official rot in this city, in which was deposited the excrement of
frauds? Is it possible he would turn himself into a scavenger cart into
which should be thrown all the moral offal of the city of Chicago for
nothing? Whoever answers that question in the affirmative is, in my
judgment, an idiot. Nobody can. Nobody has a mind so constructed that it
can lodge an affirmative answer to that question within its brain.

What next? He tells you that Munn was in this plot; and that he, Mr.
Rehm, at the same time was selling protection to these distillers. No
distillers—and you know it—would have given him ten dollars a barrel
unless they expected protection. He then was engaged in the sale of
protection, was he not? Did you ever know of a vender crying down his
own wares? Did you ever hear of a merchant crying down the quality
of the cloth he wished to sell? Did you ever hear of a grocery man
endeavoring to cry down that which he wished you to buy?

Jacob Rehm was selling protection at ten dollars a barrel, and sometimes
asking twelve dollars and fifty cents. Was it not natural for him to
endeavor to convince distillers that he had plenty of protection to
sell? Was it not natural for him to make the distillers believe, "If
you will give me ten dollars a barrel you will have perfect protection"?
Would it be natural for him to say, "I will protect you for ten dollars
a barrel, and yet I have none of the officers in my pay"? They would
say, "What kind of protection have you got, sir?" Would it not be
natural for him to make out his protection as good as he possibly could?
Would it not be natural for him to tell you, "I have got all these
officers on my side, from the lowest gauger to the gentleman
who presides over the internal revenue department at the city of
Washington"? The more protection he had the more money he could get,
and consequently it would not be natural for him to cry down his own
protection.

If Mr. Munn was in it, and if Mr. Munn at that time was the superior
officer of the collector, and this man had protection to sell, would he
not have said that Munn was also in the ring? When he was trying to sell
protection to George Burrows at ten dollars a barrel, George Burrows
asked him if Munn was in the ring and he said he was not. If Mr. Munn
had been why didn't he say that Munn was? For the reason that that would
make his protection appear to be of a better quality, and he could have
sold it at a better price. But he said "no," and that they did not
need him, because they could manage him, and fool him through this man
Bridges, and you will recollect that Bridges was appointed directly by
the Government and not by Munn; and Bridges reported directly to the
Government and not to Munn. He had nothing to do with him one way or the
other, except that they were both in the Revenue Department.

Now, I say if it is possible that a man can cry down his own wares
that he wishes to sell, then you may say that the statement of Rehm is
natural.

Now, gentlemen, why should he inform Burrows that Munn was about to make
a visit here? In order that Burrows might have an opportunity to
have his house put in order. Why should he have sent notices to other
distillers that Munn was coming? Why should he tell them to put their
houses in order? So as to be ready for a visit from Mr. Munn. It may be
that the counsel for the Government will say, "This shows the infinite
fidelity of this infinite rascal."

Now, I will come to this part of my argument again, but the next thing
I will speak of is his story, where he says that he actually paid the
money to Munn himself, and if there is anything left of that after I get
through with it you are at perfect liberty to find the defendant guilty.
You must recollect that he had a bargain. Now, according to his story,
he paid this money to Bridges. You must recollect, according to his
story, that Munn at that time was one of the conspirators, had been
receiving money—a half of thirty-five thousand dollars or forty-five
thousand dollars having gone into his pocket. Recollect that. He goes
over one day to the rectifying-house of Roelle & Junker, and there are
some barrels found, the stamps of which had not been scratched. Mr. Munn
was assured by Roelle that there was no fraud. Roelle still swears that
there was no fraud. He was afterward assured by Junker that there was no
fraud. Junker still swears that there was no fraud.

Now, what does Rehm come in to swear? Rehm says that Bridges came to him
and told him that Munn was going to make trouble—going to make trouble
about these barrels that had the stamps on that were not scratched off.
Why did not Rehm say to him, "How is he going to make a fuss? He has got
twenty thousand dollars of money already. He is in the conspiracy. He is
a nice man to make a fuss! What is he going to make a fuss about?" Would
it not have been just as likely that Bridges should have made a fuss as
that Munn should have made it? Bridges, according to the testimony
of your immaculate witness, was in this no more than Munn—not
one particle. And why was Munn going to make trouble? Mr. Rehm has
endeavored to answer that question. Mr. Rehm then goes to Munn, sent
there by Bridges—it would be very hard to find out why he did not give
the money to Bridges,—but he went to Munn and says: "You are going to
make some trouble about what you found at Roelle & Junker's?" "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because," he says, "the men at work there—the persons employed
there—will make a fuss about it, but they will see it and say that it
is overlooked."

Now, that is the reason that Rehm puts in the mouth of the defendant.
Afterward he goes himself to Junker and advises him to give him five
hundred dollars, and Junker proposes one thousand dollars, and gives
him one thousand dollars, and then he sends for Munn and he comes to his
office, and he hands him one thousand dollars.

Now, gentlemen, the reason Munn gave was that the men there would notice
it and make a disturbance about it.

Well, then, why not pay the men? What is the use of paying Munn? If this
was done to prevent the men working at the rectifying-house from making
trouble, why not pay the men? Why not pay the men who were going to make
the trouble? Why give an extra thousand dollars to a conspirator to whom
you had already given twenty thousand dollars, and who, at that time,
according to the testimony of Rehm, was officially rotten? Why not
give the money to men who were going to make the trouble? And the next
question is this—and if you will recollect the testimony of Roelle, he
swears that when the defendant came to the rectifying-house, he (Roelle)
was alone. He swears that he was alone. He swears that all the rest had
gone to dinner, and according to Roelle's testimony there was nobody
there but himself. Where were the men that were going to make this
disturbance? Where were the men that were going to notice this
oversight? Where were the men that were going to stir up difficulties
at Washington or any other place? According to the testimony of Roelle
those people were at dinner, and where, gentlemen, is the philosophy of
that lie which they have told? Where is it? Why should he have paid Munn
money? Why didn't he pay it to Bridges? If it was for the purpose of
stopping the men from making trouble, why not pay it to the men they
wished to stop? I ask the gentlemen to answer that question. I ask the
gentlemen to tell us what men were in danger of making this trouble? Was
it the gauger who received six hundred dollars a month for being a liar
and a thief? Was it the book-keeper who, every report that he made,
swore to a lie? Was there any danger of these liars and of these thieves
making a fuss on their own account? Was there any danger of that gauger
stopping his own pay? Was there any danger of that book-keeper trying to
throw himself out of employment? Was there any danger of any thief or
of any conspirator saying anything calculated to bring this rascality
to the surface? If a bribed gauger would not tell it; if a bribed
book-keeper would not tell it, I ask the Attorney-General for the
Government, would Munn tell it, who had received, according to your
evidence, over twenty thousand dollars of fraudulent money? Was there
any danger of Munn turning state's evidence against himself? Was there
not just as much danger of Bridges making a fuss as Munn? Was there not,
according to their testimony, the same danger of Rehm himself going
to Washington as there would be of a bribed gauger, and of a lying
book-keeper? Gentlemen, your story won't hang together. There is no
philosophy in it, and it will not fit anything except another lie made
on purpose to fit it; and it has got to be made by a better mechanic
than Jacob Rehm.

Now, then, gentlemen, what more? The district attorney told you, and
I was astonished when he told it—I was astonished—he said that the
testimony of Jacob Rehm was not impeached; that, on the contrary, it was
sustained by these other witnesses. Had he made such a statement under
oath I am afraid an indictment for perjury would lie. He said that the
testimony had been sustained rather than impeached. How sustained?

"Mr. Rehm, did you ever give Mr. Burroughs notice that Mr. Munn was
coming in order that he might put his house in order?"

Mr. Rehm says, "No."

We then asked Mr. Burroughs, "Did Mr. Rehm ever give you such notice?"
and he corroborates Mr. Rehm by saying "Yes," if that is what you call
corroboration.

"Did you tell Mr. Hesing that Munn was not in it?" "I did not." "Mr.
Hesing, did Mr. Rehm tell you that Munn was not in it." "He did."

That is another instance of the attorney's idea of corroboration.

"Did you tell Hesing that Hoyt was innocent?" "I did not." "Mr. Hesing,
did Mr. Rehm tell you that Hoyt was innocent?" "He did."

Another corroboration.

"Did you tell him that Munn never was in it—that Munn was innocent?"
"No."

We then asked him,

"Did he tell you that?" "He did."

We say to Burroughs,

"In 1874, in 1873, in 1872, did Rehm tell you that Munn was not in it?"
"He did."

That is another idea I suppose of corroboration.

Q. Mr. Rehm, how much money did the house of Dickenson &c Leach give
you? A. Twenty-five thousand dollars.

Q. Will you swear they did not give you thirty? A. I will.

Mr. Leach on the stand:

Q. How much money did your house give Rehm? A. Between forty thousand
and fifty thousand dollars.

Another instance of corroboration.

We then called Mr. Burroughs upon the stand. He belonged to the same
house:

Q. How much money did you give Jacob Rehm? A. Fifty-two thousand
dollars.

Another instance of corroboration.

Q. Mr. Rehm, did Mr. Abel ever give you any money? A. Yes, sir.

Q. How many times? A. Once.

Q. How much? A. Five hundred dollars.

Q. Will you swear it was not a thousand? A. Yes.

Mr. Abel take the stand.

Q. Did you ever pay Jacob Rehm any money? A. Yes.

Q. How often? A. Once.

Q. How much? A. Two thousand dollars.

And that is another instance of the corroboration of Jacob Rehm. And
when a man is thus corroborated, gentlemen, his reputation for truth and
veracity "spreads like sunlight all over the city of Chicago." There was
not a circumstance, there was not a statement made by Mr. Rehm except it
was made in the presence of Bridges, who is in Canada; of Irwin, who is
in his grave, or in the presence of the defendant, who stands here with
his mouth closed—not one solitary circumstance, with those exceptions,
that has not been contradicted. Can you believe this man? Can you
believe this man who has been contradicted by every one brought upon the
stand? Can you take his word after he has sworn as he has? I tell you,
gentlemen, you cannot do it, and as Judge Doolittle told you, if there
is an infamous crime in the world, it is the crime of perjury. All the
sneaking instincts; all the groveling, crawling instincts unite and
blend in this one crime called perjury. It clothes itself, gentlemen, in
the shining vestments of an oath in order that it may tell a lie.

Perjury poisons the wells of truth, the sources of justice. Perjury
leaps from the hedges of circumstance, from the walls of fact, to
assassinate justice and innocence. Perjury is the basest and meanest and
most cowardly of crimes. What can it do? Perjury can change the common
air that we breathe into the axe of an executioner. Perjury out of this
air can forge manacles for free hands. Perjury out of a single word
can make a hangman's rope and noose. Perjury out of a word can build a
scaffold upon which the great and noble must suffer. It was told during
the Middle Ages and in the time of the Inquisition, that the inquisitors
had a statue of the Virgin Mary, and when a man was brave enough to
think his own thoughts he was brought before this tribunal and before
this beautiful statue, robed in gorgeous robes and decked with jewels,
and as a punishment he was made to embrace it. The inquisitor touched a
hidden spring; the arms of the statue clutched the victim and drew him
to a breast filled with daggers. Such, gentlemen, is perjury, and if you
take into consideration the evidence of this witness when you retire to
the jury-room, you, in my judgment, will commit an outrage. Every man
here should spurn that man from the threshold of his conscience as he
would a rabid cur from the threshold of his house.

Is there any safety in the world if you take the testimony of these men,
especially when character avails nothing? Is there any safety in human
society if you will take the testimony of a perjured man? Is there any
safety in living among mankind if this is the law,—if the statement
of a confessed conspirator makes the character of a great and good man
worthless? For one I had rather flee to the woods and live with wild
beasts and savage nature.

Gentlemen, I know that you will pay no attention to that kind of
testimony. I know it. I know that you cannot do it. And why? You know
that that man is swearing a lie for the purpose of protection. You know
that that man is swearing a lie under the smile of the Government of the
United States. You know it. You know he expects a benefit from it. You
know it. When the other witnesses, Burroughs and Hesing, that swear
here—understand that they are swearing beneath a frown. Understand that
they know that no mercy will be extended to them by the attorneys that
they have offended. Understand that, and when you understand that a man
is swearing to protect himself, and when he is a man that will swear to
a lie for money, of course he will swear to a lie to keep himself out of
the penitentiary, or to shorten his time—I say, when you know a man is
placed in that condition, you have no right to give the least weight to
his testimony, not one particle.

What more, gentlemen. Why, they have another witness, and he has
sworn nothing. He has sworn nothing that has anything to do with this
conspiracy one way or the other. Nothing! The only evidence against the
defendant, I tell you, is the evidence of Mr. Jacob Rehm.

The defendant, gentlemen, was an officer of the revenue for several
years. When he came to Chicago, in 1871, the district attorney said the
distillers were here in full blast making illicit whiskey. If he had
read the evidence he knew better; if he had not, he had no business
to make any statement about it. In 1871, when the defendant came here,
according to the testimony of all these men, the distilleries were
running straight, and the rascality did not commence until the fall of
1872, when Jacob Rehm sold protection to these distillers. The defendant
had been here a year before any frauds were committed. He was then
supervisor of internal revenue up to May, 1875. During that time he did
many official acts; during that time he wrote hundreds and thousands of
letters; during that time he made hundreds and hundreds of visits to
all these establishments. They have searched the records; they have had
every nook and cranny looked at by a hired detective, and all that they
can possibly bring forward is the beggarly account presented in this
case: First, that there were four or five barrels of rum without the ten
cent stamps, and that, you know, is a thing that ought to send a man to
the penitentiary; next, twenty-five barrels of which the stamps had not
been scratched, but about which there was no fraud. Ought a man to be
sent to the penitentiary because he does not seize a house when there
has been a technical violation without any fraud? A supervisor that will
do it ought to be kicked out of office; he ought to be kicked out of the
society of honest and decent men, and if this defendant was satisfied
from the story of Roelle and Junker that there had been no fraud
committed by leaving the stamps on the twenty-five barrels unscratched,
and had seized that house, that would have been an act of meanness, an
act of oppression, which I do not believe even a Government attorney
would uphold unless he was hired in the case. Now, what next did he do?
The next thing he did he went to Golsen & Eastman. Gentlemen, I do not
care to speak much of Golsen. If there ever was a man utterly devoid of
such a thing as principle, if there ever was a man that would read the
statute against stealing, and stand in perfect amazement that anybody
ever thought of making such a statute, it certainly must be Golsen. You
heard him, and he is the man that said he told lies in business; he
is the man that said he did not think it was wrong to swear lies in
business, and his business now is to keep out of the penitentiary; that
is his principal business, that is one of the gentlemen they have hired,
that is one of the gentlemen they have brought forward here to offend
the nostrils of decent men. Now, then, he went to Golsen & Eastman.
Judge Bangs told you in his speech that Golsen then and there explained
his infamy to Munn.

If there is anything which makes my blood boil it is to have the
evidence misstated for the purpose of putting a man in the penitentiary.
I never will make a misstatement to add to my reputation.

I recollect that evidence so perfectly. I recollected it so clearly
that it shocked me when he stated that the man Golsen explained all his
rascality and villainy to Munn. Why, I never heard of such evidence.
What was it? It was said by Mr. Ayer in the opening that in the presence
of Munn, Golsen said to Bridges, "It is not now all right," or something
like that, "but I can make it right," or that he said in the presence
of Munn, to Bridges, something that should have put Munn on his guard.
I heard that, and I heard Golsen, when he came on the stand, say that he
said that to Bridges, and you will bear me out when I say that I asked
him in his cross-examination, "Did Munn hear it? Did you say it thinking
that Munn did hear it?" and he did not pretend any such thing. He did
not pretend it, and I tell you I was hurt, I was touched, I admit it,
when Judge Bangs made the statement. I have an interest in this case. I
am not only an attorney in this case, but, gentlemen, I am proud to
say I am the defendant's friend. I am more than his attorney; I am his
friend, and when an attorney makes a statement like that I must say
it shocks me. Golsen did not swear that he explained his villainy to
Munn—not a word of that kind or character. On the contrary he simply
said he told this to Bridges, not to Munn, and that Munn did not hear
it.

What more? Col. Eastman was there at the same time.

Col. Eastman says he did everything he could to impress upon Mr. Munn
that it was an honest transaction. What more? Then he went through the
rectifying-house like an honest man. How did he act? Like an honest man.
Did he act like somebody trying to cover up a fraud? No, he acted like
an honest man, and I tell you up to that time Mr. Eastman had borne
a good reputation—a good character in the state of Illinois. Munn
believed what he said. He believed there had been an accident. Munn
believed they made the charge in the books not for the purpose of
covering up a fraud, but for the purpose of making the books agree with
the facts. So much for that.

I do not recollect any others. I do not recollect any others that amount
to anything—that can throw the slightest suspicion on this defendant.
If he were upon trial now for failing to make a report; if he were on
trial now for malfeasance or non-feasance or negligence as an officer,
it would be proper to bring all these things before this jury, but that
is not the case. He is here for entering into a conspiracy to defraud
the Government, and these things that they have shown outside,—and it
is perfectly amazing to me they have not shown more,—it is perfectly
amazing to me that a man could be in that position the years he was
without making more mistakes—I say, all they prove in the world is
(give them their very worst construction), that he was guilty of some
negligence as an officer, but they do not attempt to prove that he was
in a conspiracy with Mr. Jacob Rehm to steal.

The next point, gentlemen, to which I wish to call your attention is the
testimony of Mr. Rehm before the grand jury. You recollect when we put
on Mr. Ward to show what Rehm testified to before the grand jury, that
Mr. Ayer suggested that we had better have the notes. I saw then that
he was extremely anxious for Schlichter to get on the stand. Then we
introduced Mr. Oleson, and he still spoke about having the notes. I
understood that it was a part of his case to have Schlichter brought on
the stand in some way. Now, then, it does not make any difference to
me whether Schlichter swore to the truth or not. Not a particle, not
a particle, but I think he did. But if he did swear a lie, and he will
swear a lie every chance he gets, in the course of time he will get such
a character and such a reputation that a district attorney of the United
States will stand up and say: "Schlichter's reputation is good; it
spreads like sunlight all over the city of Chicago." Now, then, you have
been told by Judge Doolittle all the men who swore that he did swear
before the grand jury, that he did not know of any crookedness. You have
heard the testimony of men who swear that he did swear before the grand
jury that he knew of no fraud. If he did so swear he perjured himself
or he has perjured himself now. But what more? Whether he swore that or
not, he swore this according to their own statements:

Q. At the time you burned your books had you any knowledge that they
contained any evidence of fraud against the Government? A. No, sir.

Now, he knew the distillers used a certain amount of malt to make a
certain amount of high-wines, and he knew the more malt they used the
more high-wines they would have to account for, and if they bought twice
as much malt as was necessary to make the whiskey upon which they paid
the tax, he knew that that was evidence that they had been running
without paying the tax. If it takes a certain amount of malt for a
gallon of high-wines, and his books would show they had used twice as
much malt as they had paid taxes, according to gallons, then he did
know that his books did contain evidence showing that they had committed
fraud. And when he said his books did not, he told what he knew was a
deliberate lie. What more does he say? He says these books were burned
up about the first of May just to get them out of the way,—for no
earthly object except simply to get them out of the way,—and he swears
that he sold to nearly all these distillers malt, and he knew that the
amount of malt sold to each of these distilleries would determine the
amount of whiskey they had made, that is, not into a barrel or into a
gallon, but approximately, and he knew the more malt they used the more
tax they would have to show that they had paid. And he knew that his
books would be evidence against every distiller in the city. He knew
that, and yet he swears here, squarely and fairly, that at the time he
burned his books he did not know that they were of any value as evidence
against these distillers.

Now, gentlemen, I want to call your attention to another thing. When
I asked him, when he was called here on the stand, if he was not asked
about crookedness, whether he was not asked about fraud, at first he
stumbled into telling the truth, as far as that was concerned, as far as
being asked was concerned, and then told a lie as to how he answered it.
Now, let me read it to you; you may have forgotten it. There is nothing
like having these things printed:

Q. Were you sworn before that grand jury by anybody? A. Yes, sir.

Q. Were you asked any question about this whiskey business? A. Yes, sir.

Q. Were you asked by one of the grand jurors whether you knew of any
illicit whiskey being made in this city by any of those distilleries? A.
No, sir.

Q. I ask you in regard to your answer to that, if you did not say you
did not? A. I did not.

Q. What did you say? A. The question was not asked in that way.

Q. Well, wait until I ask you, and then you can tell. Were you not asked
if you knew of any crookedness about whiskey, and didn't you reply "No"?
A. No; I answered "Yes."

There is his testimony. He was afraid then that he was caught, and he
was going to swear deliberately that he swore before the grand jury,
that he did know of crookedness. Then he changed his idea, and says
afterward that it is about the one hundred and fifty barrels. He says
now, "Put your question." Then I put this question—"Put your question."
[Question repeated.] "A. The question was not put to me in that way."

Now, he gets out of it and says it was the one hundred and fifty barrels
he talked about; but I asked him then if he was not asked if he did not
know about any crookedness here and how he answered it, and he says that
he answered it "Yes." That is, before he found out that it was necessary
to change his answer or to change his mind upon that question. That is
what he says. And it is utterly impossible, gentlemen, to get out of
the fact that he did, before that grand jury, swear that he knew of no
crookedness. You can not get out upon Mr. Roelle's testimony. You can
not get out upon the idea that Schlichter put it in. Schlichter did not
put it into the memory of the old man Samson. Schlichter did not
write it in the memory of Mr. Hoag. Schlichter did not write it in the
consciousness of Mr. Oleson. Schlichter did not write it in short-hand
in the head of J. D. Ward. Schlichter, I tell you, by his short-hand
necromancy, has not changed six or seven men into liars whether he put
that in the second line from the top or not. He cannot do that with his
short-hand, gentlemen. He could not make old Mr. Samson come here and
say, "I asked that question myself; I thought that when he was there he
was the head centre of all the rascality. And so just before he went
out I put one of those general, pinching questions as to whether he knew
anything. It was a kind of conscience scraper." The old man put that
question just as these witnesses were going out: "Do you know anything
about any fraud? Do you know anything about any crookedness?" It was
a kind of a last question that would cover the case, and the old man
recollects that he put it to Jacob Rehm and he recollects why he put it
to him, because he believed at that time that he was the head centre of
the villainy. Mr. Hoag says the same thing. Mr. Hoag says that he
looked upon him as the great rascal in the business; and he recollects
distinctly that he asked him that question; and he recollects as
distinctly how he answered it. J. D. Ward was the attorney of the United
States, and he swears to it that he recollects it perfectly. Oleson
was an attorney of the United States. He says that he recollects it
perfectly. And yet is this all to be accounted for, gentlemen, by saying
that Mr. Schlichter inserted it in his notes and that all these other
gentlemen are mistaken? The fact is, gentlemen, that Mr. Rehm, when he
was there, had not made up his mind to vomit; he had not yet made up his
mind that he could make a bargain with the United States to get out
of punishment. He did not know at that time that he need not go to
the penitentiary if he would furnish a substitute. He did not know,
gentlemen, at that time that he could have any understanding with
anybody; if he would bring better blood than his they would deal lightly
with him. He did not know at that time that two owls could be traded
off for an eagle. He did not know at that time that two snakes could be
traded off for a decent man. As soon as he found that out, then, instead
of saying that he did not know anything about any crookedness; instead
of saying that he did not know anything about any fraud, he said,
gentlemen, "I know all about it. I know all of them; every one of them."

Now, gentlemen, I want you to put against that man's testimony the lies
he swore to himself. I want you to put against that man's testimony the
improbability that he would commit numberless crimes for nothing. I want
you to put against that man's testimony the testimony of every one who
has contradicted and disputed him. I want you to put against that man's
testimony the idea and the fact that he warned these other men against
the approach of Munn. I want you to put against that man's testimony all
the circumstances of the lies he has sworn; and I want you, in addition
to that, to put against that man's testimony the evidence of this
defendant.

You have been told by the district attorney—and if I have said anything
too strong in the warmth of this discussion I beg his pardon. I have
known Judge Bangs a long time, I have been his friend, I respect him;
but I must say I felt a little outraged at what he said, because he said
he had sympathy with this defendant. He got up here and said that the
defendant bore a most excellent reputation. He got up and said that he
sympathized with him, and all at once I saw his sympathy was a cloak
under which he concealed a dagger to stab him. Now, then, he says
good character is nothing. Good character is nothing! Good character,
gentlemen, is not made in a day. It is the work of a life. The walls of
that grand edifice called a good character have to be worked at during
life. All the good deeds, all the good words, everything right and true
and honest that he does, goes into this edifice, and it is domed and
pinnacled with lofty aspirations and grand ambitions. It is not made in
a day, neither can it be crumbled into blackened dust by a word from the
putrid mouth of a perjurer. Let these snakes writhe and hiss about it.
Let the bats fly in at its windows if they can. They cannot destroy it;
but above them all rises the grand dome of a good character, not with
the bats and snakes, but up, gentlemen, with eagles in the sunlight.
They cannot prevail against a good character. Is it worth anything? If
ever I am indicted for any offence and stand before a jury, I hope that
I shall be able to prove as unsullied a reputation as Daniel W. Munn
has proved. And when I read those letters, not only saying that his
character was good, but adding "above reproach," it thrilled me and I
thought to myself then, "if ever you get in trouble will anybody certify
as splendidly and as grandly to your reputation?" There is not a man of
this jury that can prove a better reputation. There is not a judge on
the bench in the United States that can prove a better reputation. There
never was and there never will be an attorney at this bar that can prove
a better reputation. There is not one in this audience that can prove a
better reputation. And yet we are told that that splendid fabric
called a good character cannot stand for a moment against a word from a
gratuitous villain—not one moment.

Such, gentlemen, is not the law of this country. Such, gentlemen, never
will be the law of this land or of any other. I deny it, and I hurl it
back with scorn. A good character will stand against the testimony of
all the thieves on earth. A good character, like a Gibraltar, will stand
against the testimony of all the rascals in the universe, no matter how
they assail it. It will stand, and it will stand firmer and grander the
more it is assaulted. What is the use of doing honestly? What is the use
of working and toiling? What is the use of taking care of your wife
and your children? Where is the use, I say, of being honest in your
business? What is the use of always paying your debts as you agree? What
is the use of living for others? Character is made of duty and love and
sympathy, and, above all, of living and working for others. What is
the use of being true to principle? What is the use of taking a sublime
stand in favor of the right with the world against you? What is the
use of being true to yourself? What is the use, I say, if all this
character, if all this noble action, if all this efflorescence of soul
can be blasted and blown from the world simply by a word from the
mouth of a confessed felon? And yet we are assured here in this august
tribunal, in a Federal court of the United States, where the defendant
stands under the protection of the the Constitution of his country, that
his character is absolutely worthless.

They say, "Why don't you bring somebody to impeach Mr. Jacob Rehm?" Why?
because he has impeached himself.

To impeach a man is the last method. If he tells an improbable story,
that impeaches him. If he tells an unnatural story, that impeaches him.
If you prove he has sworn a different way, that impeaches him. If you
show he has stated a different way, that impeaches him. What is the use
of impeaching him any more? That would be a waste of time.

Now, gentlemen, I say to you, and I say to you once for all, I want you
to get out of your minds and out of your hearts any prejudice against
this man on account of these times. I understand now that in every man's
pathway hiss and writhe the serpents of suspicion. I understand now that
every man in high place can be pointed at with the dirty finger of a
scurvy rascal. I understand that. I understand that no matter how high
his position is, that any man, no matter how low, how leprous he may be,
what a cancerous heart he may have, he can point his finger at the man
high up on the ladder of fame, and the man has to come down and explain
to the wretched villain. I understand that; but these prejudices I want
out of your mind. I want you to try this case according to the evidence
and nothing else. I want you to say whether you believe the testimony
of these conspirators and scoundrels. I want you to say whether you are
going to take the testimony of that man, and if you bring in a verdict
of guilty I want you to be able to defend yourselves when you go to the
defendant and tell him: "We found you guilty upon a man's testimony who
admitted that he was a thief: who admitted that he was a perjurer; who
admitted that he hired others to swear lies, and who committed crimes
without number year after year." I want you to say whether that is an
excuse to give to him. Is it an excuse to give to his pallid, invalid
wife? Is it an excuse to give to his father eighty years old, trembling
upon the verge of the grave: "I sent your son to the penitentiary upon
the evidence of a convicted thief"? I say is it an excuse to give to his
weeping wife? Is it an excuse to give to his child: "I sent your father
to the penitentiary upon the evidence of Jacob Rehm"? There is not one
of you can go to the child, or to the sick wife, or to the old man, or
to the defendant himself, and without the blush of shame say: "I sent
you to the penitentiary upon the evidence of Jacob Rehm." You cannot do
it. It is not in human nature to do it.

Now, gentlemen, there is one other thing I want to say. Suspicion is not
evidence. Suspicious circumstances are not evidence. All the suspicion
in the world, all the suspicious circumstances in the world, amount not
to evidence. I want to say one more thing. They say that the testimony
of a thief ought to be corroborated. By whom? another thief? No. Because
that other thief wants corroboration, and that other thief would want
corroboration, and so on until thieves ran out, which I think would be
a long time in this particular community at this particular time.
Understand that whatever one thief swears, that it is not corroborated
because another thief swears to the same thing, and upon the point upon
which Judge Doolittle dwelt so splendidly he must be corroborated upon
the exact point. For instance, Mr. Munn went to his house, Mr. Munn
went to his office, and another man says, I saw him there. That is not
corroboration. He must be corroborated in the fact that he gave him the
money, not that Munn went to his house—not that he had an opportunity
to give him the money—not that he was there, but he must be
corroborated as to the exact, identical point that makes the guilt.

Now, gentlemen, I am going to leave this case with you. I feel a
great interest in it. The defendant feels an infinite interest in it,
infinite, I tell you. It is all he has on earth, all he has is with you.
You are going to take his hopes; you are going to take his aspirations;
you are going to take his ambition; you are going to take his family;
you are going to take his child; you are going to take everything he
has in this world into your power. It is a fearful thing to take this
responsibility. I know it. But you are going to take it—his future,
everything he has dreamed and hoped for, everything that he has expected
to attain—his character, everything he has that is dear to him, and you
are going to say "Not guilty," or you are going to cover him with the
mantle of infamy and shame forever; you are going to disgrace his blood;
you are going to bring those that love him down with sorrow to their
graves; you are either going to do that or you are going to say, "We
will not believe the testimony of self-convicted robbers and thieves."
And, gentlemen, I ask you, I implore you, I beseech you, more than that,
I demand of you that you find in this case a verdict of "Not guilty."
Put yourself in his place. Do you want to be convicted on that kind
of testimony? Do you want to go to the penitentiary with that kind
of witnesses against you? Do you want to be locked up on that kind of
testimony? Do you want to be separated from your wife or your child on
that kind of evidence? Do you want to be rendered infamous during your
life upon the testimony of such men as Golsen and Conklin and Rehm?
Do you? Do you? Do you? Does any man in the world imagine that twelve
honest men can be found that can rob another of his citizenship, of his
honor, of his character, of his home, and of his entire fortune, simply
upon the testimony of such scoundrels? No, gentlemen. For myself, for
this defendant, I have no fear. All I ask is that you will give to
this evidence the weight that it deserves. All I ask of the prosecuting
attorney in this case is that he do his duty. All I ask of him is to
state just as nearly as he can, as I have no doubt he will, the evidence
in the case. All I ask of him is that he give to all these circumstances
their due weight, and no more. I ask him to fight for justice and not
for his reputation. I ask him to fight for the honor of the Government.
I ask him to fight for the complete doing of justice, if he can, but I
hope he will leave out of the case all idea that he must win a case
or that I must lose a case. We are contending for too great a stake.
Personally, I care nothing about it, whether I make or lose what you
please to call reputation in this affair. I care everything for my
client. I care everything for his honor, and more than that, gentlemen,
I love the United States of America. I love this Government, I love this
form of government, and I do not want to see the sources of government
poisoned. I do not want to see a state of things in the United States of
America whereby a man can be consigned to a dungeon upon the testimony
of a robber and thief, simply upon a political issue, simply by the
testimony of some man who wishes to purchase immunity at the price of
another's liberty and honor.

One more point, and I have done. I had forgotten it, or I should have
mentioned it before. They have appealed to you all along to say that the
fact that high-wines were so cheap during all this time put Mr. Munn upon
his information, so to speak, that there were frauds. Let me take those
books and let us see. On the 6th day of June, 1874, the tax on spirits
was seventy cents, and the price was ninety-four cents. That made them
get twenty-four cents a gallon for the whiskey. Understand, the tax was
seventy, the price was ninety-four. That made them get twenty-four cents
for the whiskey. Now, then, on the 10th of June it was ninety-six and a
half cents. That made twenty-six and a half for the whiskey. On the 10th
of June, 1874, twenty-six and a half they got for the whiskey. February
11, 1874, ninety-six cents, which made twenty-six cents; and so it went
on in that way, until what? Until the tax was raised from seventy cents
to ninety cents, and what is it now? The tax on whiskey, gentlemen, is
ninety cents, and the price on the 10th day of May, 1876, is one dollar
and seven cents; so that the price of whiskey now is only seventeen
cents above the tax, and at the time that Mr. Munn ought to have known
that everybody was a thief and rascal, the price was twenty-six cents
above the tax, ten cents more than now. From these figures, gentlemen,
you will see it, and how high did it go? The day Mr. Munn was turned out
of office—gentlemen, on the tenth day of May, 1875,—the tax then being
ninety cents, whiskey was worth one dollar and fifteen cents. The day he
was turned out. It was nine cents more than it is today. You are welcome
to all you can make out of that argument. It was worth nine cents more a
gallon above the tax the day he was turned out than it is to-day, and
if Mr. Munn was bound to take judicial notice that there was nothing but
frauds in the district, and every distillery was running crooked, I
say that the officers of the Government are bound to take that notice
to-day, and you must recollect, gentlemen, that it was admitted in
this case that there were frauds all over the country, that there were
distilleries running in St. Louis, in San Francisco, in Milwaukee, in
Peoria or Pekin, in Peoria, I believe, in my town, not a sound has been
heard, and not a solitary man, I believe, charged with fraud—in St.
Louis, in Louisville, in Cincinnati, in all these towns. Now, where was
the whiskey being made that was crooked? Nobody could tell. If there
was a vast amount being made in Cincinnati it would lessen the price in
Chicago, no matter whether the Chicago distillers were running honestly
or not. If there was a vast amount being made in St. Louis it would
lessen the price, no matter whether the other distilleries were running
honestly or not, consequently it was impossible for the supervisor to
tell it.

There is another thing I forgot. During all the time Jacob Rehm was
doing this gratuitous rascality he was one of the bondsmen on the
official bond of Hoyt. He was not only helping Hoyt steal and giving him
all the money, but he was making himself responsible for the money he
stole, and he did not charge any commission on it. He did not charge
for any shrinkage or shortage or anything in the world, but made himself
liable for the uttermost farthing. He was on the bond of Collector
Irwin, called the stamp bond, and so do not forget that he did not only
not take any money, but he went on the acknowledgments of the thieves
that stole it. He not only did not take any himself, but he made himself
liable as a bondsman for what he gave to them. Do not forget these
things.

Now, gentlemen, I believe I have said about all I wish to say to you;
the rest is for you. You must take the case, and, as I said, you do not
want to go off on any prejudice against the kind or the character of
the case. You do not want to go off on the idea that the air is full of
rascality because some of us are to be tried next. We don't know. Let us
try this case fairly and squarely on the evidence, and the next time I
meet you, gentlemen, every one of you will be glad that you found this
defendant not guilty, as you cannot avoid doing.

[The Jury rendered a verdict of "Not Guilty."]
