Reading in Chi-town

Two of my favorite books are set in Chicago- Native Son by Richard Wright and The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson. One of my goals while I was here was to reread both of these books. I finished Native Son last week and enjoyed it just as much as I did the first time, if not more. It's the story of Bigger Thomas, a young black man living on Chicago's South Side in the 1930s- a time when Chicago had some of the nation's strictest residential segregation laws. The 'black belt'- the only part of the city where black people were permitted to live- was run down and overcrowded. Housing shortages were severe and drove the cost of living far above what it was in other parts of the city. Essentially, these laws forced Chicago's poorest residents to live in sub-standard conditions but pay a higher price to do so. As one would expect, such oppression produced high levels of racial strife and did nothing to improve the safety and security of Chicago's residents, as it was meant to do. Native Son exposed and drew attention to the ugly nature of race relations in America in the mid 20th century. One of the recurring themes in the book is blindness- a commentary on America's inability to see race relations as they really were. It's a dark story with some shocking and unexpected twists in the plot and an ending that is sad but almost feels hopeful. Ultimately, it's a story about the real consequences of oppression, the absurdity of token charity, and the dangers of using fear as a means to control people.

I didn't reread The Devil in the White City as I had hoped to. Napoleon was reading it and left it inside a cab. I was too lazy to buy another copy so that was that. It is still one of my favorite books though and having read it made my experience in Chicago more meaningful. It's a non-fictional account of the World's Columbian Exposition, held in Chicago in 1893, and America's first serial killer, Dr. H.H. Holmes- who was operating in the city at the same time. It's a interesting book that tells two stories simultaneously- the first about the team of architects who created one of the most spectacular scenes in the world and the second about a man whose life revolved around luring young women off the street and killing them in a building that he had designed and built just for that purpose. It's creepy and fascinating all at the same time. Most of the sites discussed in the book no longer exist, but their architectural legacy can be seen throughout the city. In fact, the building that we've been living in was originally designed by Daniel Burnham- one of the primary architects discussed in the book.

"On the Death Sentence"

I just read "On the Death Sentence"- a review by John Paul Stevens of David Garland's book, A Peculiar Institution: America's Death Penalty in an Age of Abolition. Justice Steven's provides a good overview of the book and a compelling analysis of the death penalty in America. I have always been uncomfortable with the death penalty- as I think most people are- because of the sheer finality of it and the possibility of human error; but I became firmly opposed to it after reading Gibbs Smith's book, Joe Hill, for a criminal justice class that I took in college. Joe Hill was a migrant worker originally from Sweden who came to Utah to work as a miner and was executed by firing squad in 1915 for the murder of a local butcher and his son. His conviction was based on inconclusive circumstantial evidence and questionable eyewitness testimony. For example, the prosecution emphasized the fact that Joe Hill received a gunshot wound on the same night as the murder. There were a total of five people treated for bullet wounds in the Salt Lake area that night, and the prosecution did not demonstrate why Hill's wound was more suspicious than any of the others.

Most people who study the case today believe that the state of Utah failed to prove that Joe Hill was guilty, and that he was convicted because he was a migrant worker and a member of the International Workers of the World (a very unpopular organization in Utah at the time). He was likely the victim of the public's hunger for vengeance and the state's need for a scapegoat, consistent with Garland's thesis that "the primary public benefits of the death penalty are 'political exchange and cultural consumption."

Justice Stevens says about those who are condemned on death row: "Many of them have repented and made positive contributions to society. The finality of an execution always ends that possibility." When I was working at the Salt Lake Metro Jail, I worked one-on-one with several people who had committed capital crimes, and there were times that I was shocked by how badly they wanted to redeem themselves. It may never be possible to right a wrong as great as murder, but why not let someone try? I recently read an article in the Salt Lake Tribune about a man named Robert Jones who was convicted of murder in 1983 and has been in the Utah State Prison since then. He has devoted his time to doing service projects in the name of Kim Chapman, the man he shot and killed. This year, he crocheted 540 stocking hats for needy children in the Salt Lake area, often staying up late into the night to make sure the hats could all be delivered by Christmas. If he had been sentenced to death, Kim Chapman would still be dead- nothing can change that. 540 children, though, would not have hats to keep them warm this winter.

Justice Stevens concludes his review by quoting Justice Byron White: "the death penalty represents the 'pointless and needless extinction of life with only marginal contributions to any discernible social or public purposes."

Read Justice Stevens' review here.
Read the article about Robert Jones here.