Flying Scissors

Flying Scissors

A quarrel between two teen aged sisters over clothing and boy friends ended yesterday when one of the sisters hurled a pair of long bladed scissors which penetrated the breast of the other, killing her.

Chicago Tribune, October 28, 1947

The three Zawistowski sisters sat in the kitchen of their family’s apartment on a cool, overcast Monday in late October. The apartment was located on West Evergreen Avenue, just east of Humboldt Park, in a tight-knit Polish neighborhood in Chicago.

Jozef and Magdalena Zawistowski were Polish immigrants with six children, all of whom were born in America. Irene, a junior in high school, had just turned 16. Rose, age 13, was still in elementary school. Adeline, age 18, had graduated from high school and was employed as a bookkeeper for an auto parts company.

The younger girls were home from school for lunch and Adeline was off work because she wasn’t feeling well. Magdalena and John, the girls’ older brother, were in another room. Jozef, a house painter, was away at work.

The girls’ conversation turned to clothes and boy friends, which reminded Adeline that one of her favorite dresses was missing from her closet. She suspected Irene had taken it without her permission and loaned it to a neighborhood girl. She thought Irene should ask before borrowing her clothes and told her so. The conversation took a nasty turn. Insults went back and forth between the two sisters.

Rose, who didn’t like to listen to her older sisters fight, took refuge in her bedroom. But the walls in the apartment were thin and she still heard a rising tide of anger in their voices.

Suddenly it got very quiet. Then Rose heard a cry and the sound of something falling. She ran back to the kitchen where she was confronted by a nightmarish scene.

Adeline

Adeline lay on the floor with one of the blades of the scissors from the table sunk into her chest. Irene stood over her older sister with a look of horror on her face. Then she started to scream hysterically. The others heard the commotion and ran to the kitchen. Magdelena bent down and cradled her daughter in her arms, telling her it would be all right. John called the doctor. He also phoned for the police.

Dr. Slawinski lived less than two blocks from the Zawistowski apartment. He came as soon as he could but it was too late. The blade had punctured one of Adeline’s lungs and most likely it also ruptured a large blood vessel in her chest. All the doctor could do was pronounce the young woman dead.

Meanwhile the police arrived at the apartment and took Irene into custody.

scissors“I got so mad I just picked up whatever I could and threw it at Adeline,” Irene told Capt. Daniel Healy and Lt. Joseph Mooney of the W. North Avenue Police Station. “I loved my sister,” she added. When Irene made her statement to the police she hadn’t yet been told that her sister was dead. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she screamed.

Irene was held in a juvenile facility until the grand jury heard the case two days later. The jury listened to the evidence in order to decide whether or not Irene should be indicted in the death of Adeline.

The only eyewitness to the events was Irene. Did she pick up the scissors and stab her sister? Or did she, as she told the police, throw the scissors at Adeline in a fit of blind rage with no intention of really harming her?

Could a blade from a pair of household scissors that were thrown from a distance of eight feet pierce a person’s clothing, go through the chest wall and the lung’s tough pleural membrane to penetrate far enough to cause death? It took the grand jury only half an hour for to decide that it could have happened that way. Adeline’s death, though tragic, was declared to have been “accidental.” No charges were filed against Irene.

Irene collapses

Immediately after the grand jury announced its verdict, Irene collapsed into the arms of Minnie Attardo, the policewoman in charge of her. After the verdict sank in, Irene became hysterical and had to be carried out of the courtroom.

Adeline’s funeral was two days later, on Halloween day.

The incident was shocking enough that newspapers around the country carried reports about it, but after the grand jury rendered its verdict and Adeline was buried, the story ended as far as the public was concerned. It wasn’t reported if Irene was returned to her family or if she ended up in a foster home or juvenile facility.

I hope Irene got the help she needed for her emotional instability and anger management issues, not to mention the lifelong heavy burden she had to carry of responsibility in her sister’s death.

Featured photo: retouched news photo of Irene Zawistowski and Policewoman Minnie Attardo after the announcement of the grand jury verdict. Collection of the author.

Lost in Translation

Lost in Translation

“Yes, I killed ‘em. They beat me. I was their slave.”

 

And so Dan Tso-Se, 16-year-old Navajo is to go to Fort Leavenworth with the brand of Cain upon him, because, goaded to desperation by the ill-treatment he had received from five members of his tribe, he fired bullets into them as they slept in their tepee. Dan Tso-Se will be taken to the federal penitentiary to serve a ten-year sentence some time Friday.

The Salt Lake City Tribune, June 18, 1909

At 5 feet ¼ inch tall and 91 pounds, Dan Tso-Se, brand of Cain or not, would require protection when he entered USP Leavenworth on June 21, 1909, to serve a ten-year sentence for manslaughter. A Navajo boy of uncertain age — perhaps as young as 13 — Dan would be housed with hardened adult criminals, many of whom were twice his size. To make matters even worse, Dan was unable to communicate with his captors because he didn’t speak English.

A news report stated that Dan lived with his uncle on the Navajo reservation near Aneth, Utah, and it was this uncle, along with an aunt and an unidentified woman, who were the people Dan shot and killed with a 22-caliber rifle, along with wounding a third woman. After the murders Dan fled on horseback with his younger brother Tony. The pair weren’t located for a month.

According to prison documents, one of the people Dan shot and killed was his sister. Other documents state that he killed four men who had systematically mistreated him. Dan spoke no English; he spoke only the Navajo language, so there were undoubtedly facts that were lost in translation, resulting in confusion about what led up to the murders and who was killed.

Dan trusty

With long, disheveled hair and clad in ragged overalls and a dirty shirt, Dan appeared in the U.S. District Court in Salt Lake City, Utah, in April 1909.

It was the first time that the Indian boy had ever been off the reservation. Streetcars, automobiles and other things of the paleface civilization filled him with terror. It was with difficulty that he was persuaded to walk along the street to the courtroom to enter his plea of guilty.

The Salt Lake City Tribune, June 18, 1909

Informed of Dan’s maltreatment at the hands of the people he shot (whoever they were), the judge reduced the charges against him from murder to manslaughter, giving him four concurrent ten-year sentences. Absurdly, he was also fined $400. The sheriff then handcuffed him and escorted him to the federal prison in Kansas. There his hair was cut and he was given clean clothing before his mugshots were taken.

Dan sent a letter, written in Navajo, to his brother Tony while he was incarcerated. All letters to and from prisoners were read and officials were suspicious of the contents of the letter. “I guess we will have to take his word for it as I have no one who can talk to him,” wrote the deputy warden to the prison warden. There were other Native American prisoners at Leavenworth, but none of them spoke Navajo.

Credited with good conduct time, Dan was paroled on March 7, 1916. Prison officials had been informed that he was not welcome at his home reservation, so he was sent to the Wind River Indian Reservation near Fort Washakie, Wyoming. In an effort to find out how the young man had fared years after his release, the Leavenworth warden tried to locate Dan in 1928, but found no trace of him.

Featured photo: Dan Tsose, Leavenworth Penitentiary inmate photograph, 1909. Collection of NARA-Kansas City, Missouri.

 

No Place for Her

No Place for Her

It’s rare that someone becomes famous for going to prison, but that’s what happened to 14-year-old Lizzie Cardish in 1906. After pleading guilty to arson of a government building, the judge presiding over her case was required, under federal statute, to send her to prison for life. If the crime had occurred nine years earlier, the mandated punishment would have been death.

On the evening of January 17, 1906, Lizzie, a member of the Menominee Tribe of Wisconsin, set fire to the boys and girls building at the Menominee Indian Training School, a boarding school in Keshena, Wisconsin. Indian schools deprived the children sent to them of their culture with the goal of transforming them into “civilized” people. No one was injured in the fire, however the building was completely destroyed.

Lizzie Cardish is a comely Indian maid of about sixteen years and in court Tuesday afternoon she was neatly and becomingly attired in a white gown and waist and wore a pretty dark straw hat trimmed with blue ribbon. In appearance the girl is remarkably intelligent for one of her race, and her features are quite regular.

The Oshkosh Northwestern, June 13, 1906

Lizzie’s motives for starting the fire were reported to be either a wish not to attend school or a desire to go to a different school in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Whatever her reason, it was an act of defiance against decades of horrendous treatment meted out to Native Americans by the federal government.

On June 15, 1906, Lizzie was taken to USP Leavenworth to serve her sentence, however the penitentiary had no place to put her! Leavenworth, a federal prison in Kansas, was built to house male prisoners. Evidently lawmakers never considered the possibility that women might occasionally break federal laws.

Eleven women had been sent to Leavenworth prior to Lizzie. Their presence caused major difficulties for the warden, R.W. McClaughry, who had to find a secure, guarded place for them away from the male prisoners. Lizzie, by far the youngest, was the last female prisoner ever sent to Leavenworth.

The warden was not willing to keep Lizzie at the penitentiary for more than a day. Her mugshot and fingerprints were taken and the following day she was transferred to the Kansas State Penitentiary in Lansing, Kansas, where there was a women’s department.

Lizzie Cardish_Kansas

Lizzie Cardish, Kansas Dept. of Corrections. Collection of the Kansas Historical Society.

The public was outraged, not only that a young girl had been sentenced to life in prison for a crime in which no one was injured, but also that she was sent to a prison for male offenders. Many people demanded that her sentence be commuted, including Judge Quarles, the man who by law had no option but to pass a life sentence on Lizzie.

President Theodore Roosevelt commuted Lizzie’s sentence, in September 1906, but she wasn’t released immediately. She was sent to the Illinois State Training School for Girls in Geneva, until she reached the age of 21. Government officials demanded that she to be brought to USP Leavenworth from the Kansas State Penitentiary before being transferred to Geneva. As far as officials were concerned, Lizzie was still “officially” incarcerated at Leavenworth.

Lizzie commutation

Lizzie Cardish’s commutation document, Leavenworth prisoner file. Collection of the National Archives, Kansas City, Missouri.

William Howard Taft succeeded Roosevelt as president in 1909. He commuted Lizzie’s sentence on April 20, 1910, and she was released. She was 18 years old.

Lizzie dropped out of the news after her release from the training school. She was married twice — both her husbands were Menominee — and had eight children. She never set another fire.

Featured photo: Lizzie Cardish, Leavenworth Penitentiary prisoner photograph. Collection of the National Archives, Kansas City, Missouri.