Death Row All Stars Read online

  Inmate #1596 Thomas Cameron, pitcher. Wyoming State Archives, Dept. of State Parks & Cultural Resources

  Saban’s goal was to make 20 percent off the wagers made on the penitentiary team.18 As captain of the ball club, he had knowledge of the inmate players’ strengths and weaknesses, and more important the incentive they had to win. According to Ora Allen, a longtime Wyoming resident and an associate of George Saban, Saban’s scheme was well planned. Allen explained to relatives that just prior to the convicts’ game with the Juniors on July 18 Saban told oddsmakers that deals had been negotiated between the players and Warden Alston to decrease their prison time and give permanent stays of execution to others if they won all the games the warden had arranged.

  Saban persuaded any apprehensive gamblers that he and Warden Alston had significant influence over the All Stars. Given the fact that Warden Alston had been particularly liberal with Saban’s travels to and from the prison and the fact that Saban was captain of the baseball team, gamblers were inclined to believe him.19 “He let people know that a loss would cost penitentiary players,” Allen recalled years later. “I suspect everyone at the top of a plan like that stood to benefit.”

  The performance of the baseball team members on the field was much more significant to the prison as a whole than the individual accomplishments off the field. All the inmates could share in the glory of a win. The interest in how consistent they were at hitting and fielding was intense, both with fans of baseball and those who wagered on games. Many viewed the prisoners as wanderers from the way who ought to be put back on the right road. If played well, baseball could be their path to righteousness.20

  Chapter Six

  Betting on a Win

  Every day Joseph Seng took his usual position beside the guard’s desk in the mess hall and studied the inmates as they entered the room. Perhaps this was his way of fighting the monotony and routine of daily prison life. Maybe Seng was trying to assert himself as someone not to be trifled with, or maybe he had no agenda whatsoever. Some convicts believed he was a threat to the position they perceived to hold in the hierarchy of prisoners. Seng didn’t worry about what anyone thought of him. He maintained his spot by the desk regardless of the occasional disapproving glance.1

  In early August 1911 a particularly disagreeable inmate tired of Seng’s habit and decided to kill him. The displeased man who wanted Joseph dead wore a ball-­and-­chain restraint that clanged behind him as he shuffled along. His arms were generally full of the ten-­pound ball attached to the iron links. His heavily bearded face was weathered, and his mouth was set in a perpetual snarl that looked inexpressively evil. He gave Seng a rough look as he passed by him and hauled himself and his ball and chain up a flight of steel stairs.2

  Once the violent inmate made it to the second landing of the facility, he stopped to look out over the people below, his face “filled with rage,” according to a story provided by an inmate and included in the Annals of Wyoming. “His cell was back at the farthest end of the top gallery,” the prisoner recalled. “At the top of the stairs there was a small box of sand about half full for a sort of trash receptacle. The box was about ten inches wide and probably two feet in length. The fellow set the iron ball on the floor of the gallery and picked up a box of sand. He raised it above his head and dropped it straight down at the head of Seng, twenty-­five feet almost directly below.

  “As the leaden box went down Seng partly turned to speak to the guard and the box struck the floor with a crash like the report of a gun and burst straight through the center sending sand in all directions. If Seng hadn’t turned just as he did it would have landed on his head. The fellow picked up the iron ball and went down the gallery to his cell. He had sawed the rivet in two that held the iron on his ankle and as he opened the door he loosened the thing from his leg and threw the ball and chain over the gallery. It struck the table and went straight through the floor leaving a six-­foot length of board standing straight up in the center of the table.”3

  Although Seng was shaken by the attempt made on his life, it didn’t carry over to his performance on the baseball field. The Death Row All Stars were scheduled to cross bats for a second time with the Wyoming Supply Company Juniors on August 4, 1911. The prison team practiced often in July in preparation for the event.4

  Even in practices, the Death Row All Stars played with gusto and even temperament. They worked together as one cohesive unit and made the sport look like the easiest game in the world. They seemed to cherish the smell of the leather glove, the snap of the ball smacking their palms, the sensation of letting loose a throw and kicking up a cloud of dust. These were deep pleasures in a world that didn’t offer many happy moments, and they relished this one.

  Thomas Cameron was in the box for the convicts, throwing one pitch after another in an effort to refuse any hits. Seng was in right field making every catch that came his way. He gobbled up line drives that looked good for a couple of bases at least. At the end of each successful play, the ball would quickly be sent around the bases. James Powell, who was in as catcher, would throw it to Eugene Rowan at first, who would jettison it to Frank Fitzgerald at second. Fitzgerald would whip the ball to John Crottie, who would throw it to Ora Carman in left field. Carman would propel the ball to center fielder Sidney Potter, and Potter would toss it to Seng. Seng, with super-­human effort, would send the ball all the way home again.5

  George Saban watched the roundabout with great interest. He was particularly pleased with the smoke Seng put on the ball. There was an explosive strength in the man’s wiry build. Although his teammates offered praise for his effort, Seng looked as if he’d done nothing more thrilling than change a flat tire.

  Saban grinned at the talented team as he approached the batter’s box. He wanted to hit a few more balls to the players before dusk fell and practice was forced to end. He scraped his spikes into the ground like a bull pawing the earth before he charged. The digits missing on Saban’s hands prevented him from gripping the bat as tightly as other players did, but he proceeded as though he had all ten fingers. He scrutinized the pitcher until finally he let the ball fly. Saban connected with the ball. It was a hard grounder that made its way between second and third base. Joseph Guzzardo rushed the ball with his glove poised to scoop it up, but he fumbled the catch. Given how well the team had been doing, the error was glaring. Without missing a beat the pitcher prepared to deliver another throw. George hit another grounder to Guzzardo. Guzzardo fumbled the ball a second time. Frustrated, he marched off the field as though all the try had gone out of him. Saban met him as he headed down the third baseline toward a bench behind home plate.6

  Seng related the story of what happened next in a letter to Rev. Masson. Saban was furious with Guzzardo over the errors. “He had an expression that let everyone know he had no time for excuses,” Seng wrote in late July 1911.7 “He stomped over to Guzzardo and let him have it. No one could hear what was being said, but something was being said. Guzzardo kept his head down. After a few minutes of serious talk, George motioned for Thomas Cameron to meet him where he stood.” Seng’s letter went on to explain that Cameron and Guzzardo were both reprimanded—and it wasn’t long after the incident that all the players were informed of the particulars of the heated conversation. “Mistakes on the field would not be tolerated,” Seng wrote Rev. Masson. “He [Saban] told us that prisoners who make errors that cost the team a game would have more time added to their sentence. Winning would lead to reduced time and stays of execution.” Saban told the team those were Warden Alston’s terms and that they were non-­negotiable. Given Saban’s friendship with Warden Alston, no inmate doubted what George said to be true.8

  To the convict ballplayers, the condition in which they now had to play the game was reminiscent of the lessee program under Otto Gramm. H. A. Pendergraft would later write in the April 25, 1912, edition of the Laramie Republican, “That contract labor (in any form) st
ill held the whip-­hand at the Wyoming State Penitentiary is in itself good and sufficient evidence that no such reform as claimed had occurred at that institution.

  “Beneath its hand and between cogs of its merciless system all the good instincts, all regrets for past misdeeds, all faith in human justice, in human nature, in human sympathy, is crushed and trampled upon,” he added. “[It is] a school for crime which flourishes in an age of advanced ideas, where lessons of hate, of discontent and indifference to laws, both human and divine, are instilled into the mind and hearts of men; a market place of shame, an incubator that breeds and nourishes criminal instincts and sends men from prison in a worse state of degradation than when they entered there.”

  If, as the papers have assured their readers, the prison at Rawlins is being conducted along lines befitting the dignity of a great state and in a manner creditable to the people of Wyoming; If, under the new order of things the prisoners are experiencing great changes for the better in the moral natures and views of life; if their better instincts for right living and proper regard for the common law of society are being developed; if their physical, moral and mental conditions are better than under the old regime; if all this be true, then indeed have the people of Wyoming just cause to be proud of those, who, as their representatives, have brought these admirable results about . . .

  You are offered here without prejudice and without malice, to believe or reject according to your own convictions, the real truths, the ground floor facts, “The Other Half of Wyoming State Penitentiary Story,” by one who knows and is familiar with existing prison conditions as they actually are.

  Prison guard D. O. Johnson and other officials at the prison who were aware of the ultimatum that Saban issued the inmate ball club did not behave as if they felt the idea was out of line. Johnson, who shadowed Saban most everywhere he went, treated the convicts as though they should be grateful for the opportunities they were given, and local gamblers were certainly happy to take advantage of the wagering opportunities that the sport offered above all else.

  News of the attempt on Seng’s life was a source of much discussion at places like the Klondike Bar. The bookmakers who set up business inside the local saloons and gave the owners of the establishments a portion of their earnings for their troubles were worried about the penitentiary’s star player.9 They wondered whether he would be alive to play the next game and what that meant for the sums that had been wagered on Alston’s All Stars to win their next go-­round with the Wyoming Supply Company Juniors. Saban was determined to make sure every speculator knew his bets were secure.10

  Just as it was inside the penitentiary, Saban’s reputation and history with Warden Alston carried a great deal of weight with the public at large. George roamed about Carbon County with ease, dressed in civilian clothes and dining with his supporters like a politician campaigning for office. Accompanied by prison guard D. O. Johnson, Saban traveled to the Klondike Bar and the other gaming houses in Rawlins to touch base with those who had funds riding on the baseball club to win. The percentage Saban stood to earn from an All Stars victory promised to be a nice sum, as well. His inside knowledge of the incentive the convict players had been given to win provided him with the confidence he needed to keep gamblers interested and even increase their bets.11

  Rawlins, Wyoming, on June 9, 1916; the Wyoming State Penitentiary is the tallest building in the center of town. Wyoming State Archives, Dept. of State Parks & Cultural Resources

  Johnson kept Otto Gramm informed about what he knew regarding Saban’s gambling ventures. Johnson, who had been hired at the penitentiary by Gramm, felt a sense of loyalty to him. Gramm, of course, liked hearing about problems at the prison and hoped there were more yet to come, so he encouraged Johnson’s confidences. Proof of Warden Alston’s involvement with Saban’s gambling scheme and Governor Carey’s knowledge of the same would go a long way in helping to set things right for Gramm. He was still embittered by Governor Carey’s treatment of him and resented how Carey had led the public to believe he was anything less than honest in all his financial dealings. Gramm continued to make Senator Warren aware of the situation. For the moment, however, Senator Warren was content to allow the governor to carry on until the effects of his mismanagement of certain inmates derailed his political career.12

  When rumors about the open violation of gambling laws reached Governor Carey, he announced to the newspapers his intent to intervene. According to the August 1, 1911, edition of the Wyoming State Journal, the governor declared that he would “stop all gambling and illegal liquor sales throughout the state.” The Journal offered a clue as to why the law had not previously been enforced, reporting that “Local saloon owners say they will obey the order though some claim they were assured last fall of an open season for two years in exchange for their [voting] support.”

  The All Stars took the field on August 4, 1911, for their second of four games against the Juniors. According to the August 5, 1911, edition of the Laramie Daily Boomerang, Seng was the outstanding player of the day. “A game of baseball was played at the penitentiary stockade between the prisoners’ team and the Wyoming Supply Company Juniors, in which the prisoners were victorious, winning by a score of 11 to 1,” the article read. “Seng, who was convicted at Evanston of murder in the first degree, was one of the star players of the convict team, getting four hits out of four times at bat, and played an errorless game. Seng was sentenced to be hanged on August 29, but will petition the governor to commute his sentence to life imprisonment.”

  Warden Alston was pleased with the ball club and shared his thoughts about the game with W. H. Veach, the under-­sheriff of Big Horn County, who was at the penitentiary the day of the game, delivering a convict to the facility. The lawman told a reporter with the Sheridan Post that Warden Alston “seemed to be “making a hit with his new job” and that the “discipline at the state prison was never better.” Veach saw not only the baseball team doing well, but the road crews as well. “At present a gang of 40 convicts is at work building roads eight miles from Rawlins,” the August 8, 1911, edition of the paper noted. “A lifer acts as night guard, and there is only one civilian with the party and he is the foreman. The workers are practically unguarded, do their own cooking and sometimes they are not seen by the prison authorities from one week’s end to another.”

  Warden Alston’s method of prison management was unusual. He seemed to believe that brutal, vengeful punishment only aroused thoughts of violence and blood.13 Members of the State Board of Charities and Reform, such as state auditor Robert Forsyth, questioned the wisdom of such liberties as allowing prisoners to play ball outside the penitentiary and the use of chain gangs. There was concern from the community and from officials who opposed Alston’s reforms that the public might be at risk from certain dangerous criminals.

  Alston’s practices and attitudes were right in line with research of the day. According to studies done in 1911 on the outdoor treatment of crime by Harris R. Cooley, a minister and prison reform leader, the traditional feeling that severe and painful punishment exterminates wrong thoughts and acts was medieval. “Under the old system,” Harris wrote in February 1911, “the hope of the prisoner was to conceal and utterly deny all wrong-­doing. This very act closed for him personally the doorway to better living. . . . We are expending for the detection and punishment of crime nearly twice as much as for education, charity, and religion combined.

  Harris continued, “A general change of attitude toward the so-­called ‘criminal classes’ is the fundamental thing which is happening. Prophetic minds have heralded the new spirit of human fellowship, and here and there individuals have had faith to try the discipline of kindness. All are now coming to see the possibility and wisdom of preventing and curing crime. . . . In a number of institutions the outdoor methods have been tried with marked success. Few violate the trust given them, whether it’s working in fields, on railroads, building roads
, or recreational sporting programs.”14

  According to Alston’s grandson Scott Alston, the warden was “sincere in trying to improve the conditions at the prison” and toward that end instituted a lot of reforms.15 The baseball team was one of many such endeavors. Still, Gramm never ceased being suspicious of the warden’s motives, and Saban helped fan the flame of mistrust through his activities outside the prison walls. In the days after the All Stars’ win, Johnson escorted Saban to the local taverns to brag about the team and collect on his wagers and likely reported back to Gramm about Saban’s actions.16

  Gramm’s animosity toward Governor Carey and Warden Alston had been growing. The grudge was solidified when the governor insisted Gramm be removed from the Board of Trustees at the University of Wyoming in Laramie.17 Then, for the second time since he had been in office, Governor Carey publicly implied that Gramm had misappropriated funds. An article in the June 23, 1911, edition of the Laramie Republican suggested that the governor was wrong to remove Gramm from the board and that some University of Wyoming board members believed Governor Carey needed to admit his error. The piece read in part, “No well-­informed voter believed for a minute there was anything wrong going on at the university. It was only those who were not advised to conditions and who were willing to take the word of such men as Governor Carey. The Republican is advised that even the Governor has stated on the quiet to members of the university board that he was misinformed about some matters, and that he now approves all that the board did in the disposition of the university hands. He simply lacks the courage to come before the people and frankly state that he deceived them and the great crime by which the people are robbed of $500,000 was a myth conjured up in a brain anxious to get hold of the reins of government—with little care to the methods.”