CRIMINAL SYMPATHY

The newspapers have lately built up around the more important criminals a halo of sensational romance which makes them appear like heroes, fighting valiantly for their lives in prejudiced courtrooms. Moving Pictures and detective novels have also helped to show that murderers are only martyrs and sneak thieves are honest men forced under by society. The less vicious male-factors pass through the courtroom with scarcely a word of comment but the Loebs and the Leopolds are swamped with notes of genuine sympathy.

When Gerald Chapman was sentenced last Saturday for the murder of Patrolman Skelly, "strong men cursed and women wept" over his fate, according to all news reports. To the citizens of Hartford where he was tried for his New Britain offense. Chapman was a vivid figure, a notorious bandit, a popular hero whose name was one to conjure with. Eighteen years of crime, the gigantic New York mail robbery, and the cold-blooded shooting of Officer Skelly only added to the glory of his name. The papers played up to him, the people applauded him. When he is hanged next June, his grave will be buried with flowers. Such is the power of the news sheet which can make its purchasers read black for white and white for black.

The courts must struggle steadily on alone, sometimes erring but always trying to protect society from such dangers. Their worst enemies are not the criminal's friends, or false witnesses, but often the people themselves whom they are trying to safeguard, foolishly blinded as they are by the false glamor of crime.