Crimescribe

It is the evening of December 15, 1927. At Sing Sing Prison the convicts are putting on their regular Christmas show, a light musical comedy called ‘A Sweet Little Devil.’ Some 600 of New York State’s toughest convicts are enjoying the show, one of several reforms instituted by famed Warden Lewis E. Lawes. Probably America’s most famous and divisive prison official, Lawes sees it as his job to reform his prisoners, at least those not already beyond being reformed. He makes no secret whatsoever of his opposition to the death penalty.

His demeanor is not improved by a rarity at Sing Sing. A woman, Ruth Snyder, arrived in May condemned for murdering her husband. She is slated to die on January 12, 1928. Unusually for a woman in New York, it looks as though her execution will proceed with all the additional stress and media intrusion that female executions always bring. She lives alone in one the three Death House cells reserved for female prisoners. Her lover, Judd Gray, will also die on January 12, 1928. Until this morning he was in a cell near Seiler and Ricci.

While many of his prisoners enjoy one of Sing Sing’s rare lighter moments Lawes himself has another, far less pleasant duty when the annual show is over. Two of his prisoners, Peter Seiler and George Ricci, are to die that night. Their death warrants are on his desk. There have been no calls or messages from the courts or the Governor and there won’t be. Seiler and Ricci will die as mandated, but not quite…

State Electrician Robert Greene Elliott has already tested his equipment. Perhaps America’s most prolific executioner, Elliott will earn his standard fee for a double execution. For a single Elliott earns $150. For two or more in a night he gets $150 for the first and another $50 for each additional throw of the switch. That and eights cents per mile gasoline allowance if he drives from his home in Queen or a return railroad ticket. As alien as it might sound to almost anyone else on Earth, this is a typical night’s work for the man Sing Sing prisoners granted a grim alias, ‘the burner.’

A life-long opponent of capital punishment, Lawes despises Sing Sing’s dreaded ‘Black Thursday.’ While New York’s death warrants specify a week rather than a specific day, most condemned convicts know they will die on a Thursday. With few exceptions, last-minute stays from the courts or delays ordered by the State Governor, they usually do. The switch is usually thrown at 11pm. For a double execution, a common event at Sing Sing during the 1920’s and 30’s, both men would usually be dead by around 11:15pm, but not tonight.

It’s only a brief delay and not for any last-minute, life-saving reason. Prisoners usually know when executions are to be carried out and tonight is no exception. Lawes knows that he must maintain control over the prison especially while Seiler and Ricci meet their fates. He also knows that cancelling the annual show will darken an already dark mood among his prisoners. If he tries to run the executions while the annual show is in progress the risk of disorder or a riot is greatly increased.

Normally, Sing Sing is locked down on Black Thursday. All prisoners are confined to their cells and all prison officers are particularly vigilant. Nothing must disrupt the executions, especially not a riot or escape. With that in mind the executions have been delayed until 1am the following morning. The prisoners can enjoy their annual show, the staff can still lock down the prisoners afterward and Seiler and Ricci can still die according to the law. The delay is a very temporary one and everybody at Sing Sing knows it.

For Seiler and Ricci it is no consolation at all that they have an extra couple of hours left to them. Just as the rest of the prisoners know they are to die tonight, Seiler and Ricci know the annual show is in progress. They also know that once the curtain comes down on ‘A Sweet Little Devil’ their final exit is about to begin.

Whether they can hear the laughter and cheers of their fellow prisoners is debatable. Maybe they can, maybe they can’t. If they can then who knows what is running through their minds. Do they feel bitter? Angry? Afraid? Do they begrudge the constant cheerful reminder that life will go on without them, or are they glad that at least somebody is enjoying their evening? Only they know for certain and nobody else ever really will. According to the next day’s edition of the Austin American-Statesman:

‘For three hours before they were electrocuted the condemned men were forced to listen to the laughter of 600 other prisoners.’

Seiler and Ricci have already bid farewell to their fellow-condemned. Twelve hours before their appointed time they were taken from their cells where they had nervously awaited the outcome of appeals destined to be denied. Then there was hope, perhaps the worst form of psychological suffering for the condemned. Now, with everything seemingly decided against them, there is none. Their only companions now are Chaplains who provide what consolation the strict Death House rules allow

Death House officers known as Keepers kindly allow them to shake hands with the other prisoners before they are transferred to the infamous ‘Dance Hall.’ Consisting of six cells sited only around twenty steps from the chair itself, the ‘Dance Hall’ is the penultimate stop on death’s railroad. After the Dance Hall, Old Sparky is the end of the line. According to the next day’s New York Daily News:

‘They were allowed to shake hands with their doomed companions. They walked from cell to cell, thrusting their hands through the bars and whispering “Goodbye, friend. Hope you have better luck.” All of the condemned men answered in kind. The men were then led from the main corridor of the Death House to the cells just outside the execution chamber where they awaited the summons to the chair.’

Once in the Dance Hall only the courts and the Governor stand between them and their final destination. If either were going to call a halt they probably would have already. In their final hours Seiler and Ricci have already been bathed, shaved, put on the clothes they will die in, taken their last meals (if they had the stomach for them) and received their last visits. Once ‘A Sweet Little Devil’ takes its curtain call, the State Electrician will close their show with the jerk of a switch.  

With the annual show over, Seiler and Ricci’s final act starts. Neither man feels his death is fair or justified. Condemned for murdering Patrolman James Masterson while robbing a speakeasy with two accomplices in January, 1927, Seiler resents having to die for a shot fired by Walter Tipping. Tipping was fatally shot by police when they tried to arrest him. The other felon, Jerry Cohalen, has already been sent to the Mattewan Asylum.

With Tipping already dead and Cohalen unfit to stand trial, Seiler is the only one to face execution. Aged only twenty, Seiler is considered equally liable for joining in a robbery that became the first-degree murder of a police officer. Rumours abound that New York’s courts and Governor have an unwritten law, nobody condemned for murdering a police officer would get clemency. They are to made examples of. No doubt Seiler was told when he arrived at the Death House. Unsurprisingly, he feels otherwise.

Ricci is equally defiant. After being fired from his job as building superintendent at the Graden Court apartment complex. Having been fired, losing his home there as a result, Ricci had also been unable to find another job. That he was sacked shortly before Christmas of 1926 made him hate former employer Peter Scavullo all the more. Another possible reason arose at his trial. A most distasteful one as well, if it is true.

According to Ricci and his wife, Scavullo had pursued her for sex and, fearing for her husband’s job and their home, she had agreed. Scavullo, according to the Riccis, then fired George anyway. According to George Ricci it was a matter of honour and understandable revenge. In his own mind Scavullo’s murder was no murder, Ricci’s actions were more than justified. The jury begged to differ. Kings County Judge J. Franklin Taylor also blasted Ricci for maligning his victim’s character in an attempt to save his own skin.

Whether or not Scavullo did mistreat Mrs Ricci has never been proved, although Judge Taylor openly accused the Riccis of lying. According to George it was the truth and more than justified repeatedly shooting Scavullo before being detained by police officers. After being condemned to die Ricci made his strongest protest at the Richmond Street jail. Awaiting transfer to the Death House, Ricci attempted suicide.

Seiler, the youngest and considered most likely to fight every step of the way, is first to die tonight. He is brought from the Dance Hall shortly after 1am. Just before the switch is thrown Seiler is asked if he has any final words. After sharply criticising the law that saw him treated as a murderer when the deceased Walter Tipping had fired the fatal shot, Seiler kisses a crucifix held before him by the prison Chaplain. Then he bids his final farewell:

“You are about to see an innocent man die. I did not kill anybody. I will die with a smile, my conscience is clear.”

With that Seiler is seated, strapped and capped as quickly as possible. The switch is thrown at 1:27am barely two minutes after Seiler entered the room. He is pronounced dead at 1:32am. Now it is time for the despondent George Ricci to take his final bow. Still deeply depressed and seemingly beyond resisting, Ricci shambles in almost as soon as Seiler has been wheeled out into the adjoining morgue.

Brought in at 1:36am with the smoke and stench from Seiler’s execution still hanging in the air, Ricci has nothing to say to the witnesses. He doesn’t make any protest, just prays silently and wants to get it over with as fast as possible. He is seated quickly and remains silent as the straps are buckled tight and the electrodes, still warm from Seiler’s death, are carefully adjusted. Unlike Seiler, Ricci requires two jolts to put him out of his misery. At 1:46am, long past the normal working hours in New York’s death chamber, Ricci is pronounced dead.

With Seiler and Ricci both dead, almost everybody is finished for the day. All except the prison doctor. New York state law requires an autopsy after every un-natural death and executions are no exception. Long after everybody else has finally gone to bed, the doctor will be burning the midnight oil until the bodies of Peter Seiler and George Ricci finally lie safe beneath their shrouds.

Curtain call. The show is over.