A Tale of Two Cities: Atlanta in the Post Civil War South, and the Murder of Mary Phagan. ONE
We are the breakers of our own hearts.
-------Eudora Welty
This is Mary Phagan. She was 13 years at the time of her murder.
In preparation for this confusing and complex crime, I sure did read a lot. I'd like to recommend all of these sources to you, but I'm afraid I had to narrow it down to this one:
And the Dead Shall Rise by Steve Oney. It's about 600 pgs. long, and is, in this historian's opinion, by far the best consideration of this enigmatic case.
So. A Tale of Two Cities, eh? Well, in this case, it would be Atlanta, Georgia, and Manhattan. In other words, North vs. South. Sound familiar? It should, at least to those familiar with the tensions that still exist between these two American regions.
Let us journey now to the earliest years of the 20th century, specifically, to Atlanta. It was here, that a little girl, Mary Phagan, was murdered in the National Pencil Company, on "Confederate Day" April 26, 1913. She was brutally beaten, strangled, and raped (probably). To this day, the identity of her murderer has never been conclusively proven. However, it is important to note that there are many who were satisfied with the verdict of the trial. What follows, is my careful consideration of the case. It's my hope that my conclusions don't piss anyone off. I must reiterate: these are my opinions. So, Dear Reader, read on if you're curious!
I. In order to understand the murder of Mary Phagan, aged 13, you have to understand the context of the region...so let's investigate the Atlanta of 1913...
One of the richest cultures in the US, has to be located in the Deep South: I am thinking primarily of Mississippi, Georgia, and South Carolina. Yet, it is a social system that many, living outside of this area, continually misunderstand--yet still judge according to their own values and mores. What most people miss, whenever they might form impressions about the region, is the long shadow of the Civil War. Yes, Dear Reader, it is still a fresh memory for those living there.
Think about what it means to effectively lose a war: the feelings of sorrow, anger, resentment. Additionally, consider how the South lost an entire way of economic life, with the ending of slavery. In point of fact, with the loss of that peculiar institution, the South also lost much of their culture. But, I've always thought that the status of the South, in the aftermath of the Civil War, was justified. By continuing the practice of enslavement too long, in effect, the planter elite in the South (i.e. the paternalistic dudes in power), made their own bed, but took the rest of the southern states down with them.
The city of Atlanta remains a special case, when one considers its' fate in the final years of the war. You may recall, Dear Reader, that Georgia saw some of the worst devastation of the conflict, as of 1864. General William Tecumseh Sherman marched his forces through the state, burning, raping, and pillaging (like a bunch of drunken buccaneers) everything in their path. They literally razed Atlanta to the ground. Are you familiar with the concept of "total war"? Sherman's march was one of the first modern applications of that brutal idea. Total war is an idea that aggression should be focused, not only on enemy soldiers, but on civilians--their homes, farms, businesses, transport. The idea was to utterly destroy your opponent's ability to support and/or wage war. It was damned effective too, if you supported the Union. But, if you were a southerner living in Georgia, Sherman's boys left them nothing, as they passed through, leaving devastation in their wake (not totally though, they did not obliterate everything: the soldiers left the city of Savannah alone, because its' denizens made them welcome when they 'passed through').
Yeah. I guess you can see why the citizens of Atlanta were still a tad pissed off at the north.
Alright, here we go....
People are mostly layers of violence and tenderness wrapped like bulbs, and it is difficult to say what makes them onions or hyacinths.
--Eudora Welty, Delta Wedding
II. Leo Frank
He was born in April, 1884, in (wait for it) Cuero, Texas. Yes, Texas. But, he was raised in New York. His parents were of German extraction, and Jewish. His childhood was fairly mundane, with no truly remarkable events. He did well in school, and was eventually accepted into Cornell University (where my cousin works, by the way, and is also worshiped). He earned a degree in mechanical engineering, and was quickly offered at an uncle's pencil factory in Atlanta, Georgia (well, he was one of the owners).
Prior to taking up his duties, Leo traveled to Germany, in order to observe the latest trends in factory production. He spent several months there as an apprentice to Eberhard Faber (hey--you should recognize that name, this dude was a biiiig wheel in that country), finally arriving in Atlanta in 1908. In 1910, he married Lucille Selig--the daughter of a prominent Jewish family. Additionally, Leo immersed himself in the local Jewish community, even getting elected president of the city's 'B'nai B'rith group (this was initially described as a "fraternal organization." These days, members describe it as a force that is committed to the safety and continuation of both the Jewish people, and Israel).
Things looked promising for Leo in all respects. He eventually became the 'supervisor' of the manufactory. And yet, you've gotta know that the National Pencil Co. (where Leo worked) employed primarily young girls--most under the age of 18. Child labor was still flourishing in the U.S., and most of these children worked 10 hour days, with one day off. One of these workers was 13 year old Mary Phagan.
III. The victim, Mary Phagan, takes the stage
Mary was the daughter of a poor Georgia farming family, who had been forced to 'up stakes' by poor economic conditions, and move to the city in search of work. They were merely one of many families who'd been forced into this position. She was born in June, 1899. In order to help alleviate her family's dire economic position, Mary stopped her education, and entered the work force at the age of 10. Honestly, not much is widely known about this little girl, which is unfair, particularly in light of how she died.
After her death, she became a symbol of how 'poor white southern girlhood' was being systematically 'destroyed' by northern businessmen. Like southerners never used child laborers. Shit. Poor kid. The truth surrounding her death was subsumed beneath Atlantans' bigotry towards African Americans and Jews.
IV. The murder: April 26th, 1913, "Confederate Day"
Yeah, that's right. Confederate Day. It was a popular holiday throughout the South in those days: former Confederate soldiers and their wives paraded through the streets, in what could only be described a carnival atmosphere. Christ, they even celebrated the occasion with a fireworks display. Gag.
Mary was wearing a new dress, and was on her way to enjoy the parade. She had eaten a hearty breakfast of cabbage and biscuits at approximately 11:30 a.m. (remember that). She stopped by the pencil factory, in order to pick up her weekly pay (a whopping $1.20). Arriving there, she went up to Frank's office (a space he shared with two others, although he was alone that day), and (according to Frank's later testimony) gave him her employee number. She took the envelope and left the office, and was never seen alive again.
Wierdo fact #1: Around 6:00 pm that evening, Newt Lee (night watchman) answered a phone call from Leo, who asked him if everything was alright at the factory. This was apparently the first time he had done this, according to Lee's later testimony.
The next morning, around 3:20 a.m. Newt was making his appointed rounds, when he came across a body lying face down in a corner of the cellar. It was a little girl covered in dirt--so, at first, Newt didn't see her clearly. In other words, her color was indeterminate. Newt immediately ran upstairs to the phone and tried to call Frank. No answer. He also called the police, telling them about his grisly discovery. They did answer and quickly arrived at the factory.
Mary's body was cold, indicating that she'd been dead for some time. Police spied a deep gash on her head, and a length of twine deeply embedded in her neck, suggesting strangulation. Her bloody dress and under drawers were pulled up around her waist. Further, Mary was covered with dirt, grime, and rubbish from the floor of the cellar, suggesting that she'd put up quite a fight with her assailant.
There was a small trap door at the back of the cellar. When police examined it, they later attested that the opening had been tampered with. Furthermore, there were 'drag marks' on the floor between the body's final location, and the door. But, this physical evidence was not adequately documented by the police at the time. In fairness to the detectives, this was 1913, and forensics was still a gleam in the eye of Sherlock Holmes. Even using fingerprints or footprints as evidence was in its' nascence. In this atmosphere, circumstantial evidence, as well as character witnesses were ultimately of more importance in the courtroom.
One of the weirdest pieces of evidence, found in the trash next to Mary's body, were two notes written in an unknown hand. They were largely nonsensical:
land down play like the
night witch did it
but that long tall black
negro did by his slef.
Uh, huh.
Early the next morning, the police went to Frank's home. He answered the door, looking disheveled and nervous. He also wasn't fully dressed. The police told him to come with them, back to the factory, which he did. However, the detectives also noted his growing discontent, interpreting it as both strange and suspicious. Why? Well, Dear Reader, remember where we are at this moment: Atlanta, only fifty plus years out from the Civil War, and Frank is a northerner, an industrialist, and jewish. A triple whammy as far as the Georgia police were concerned.
Next time (i.e. next week), we'll return to Leo, the police, and the horrifically brutalized Mary Phagan at the National Pencil Factory....
My continuing passion is to part a curtain, that invisible veil of indifference that falls between us and that blinds us to each other's presence, each other's wonder, each other's human plight.
-----Eudora Welty
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