Hellraisers Journal – Monday August 14, 1922 Christmas 1920: Eugene Debs Denied Release from Prison by President Wilson
From the Appeal to Reason of August 12, 1922:
Christmas in Prison
By EUGENE V. DEBS
[Part I of II]
Eugene Debs Leaving Atlanta Penitentiary Christmas Day 1921
A nation-wide holiday campaign had been inaugurated for my release so that I might return home for Christmas [of 1920]. It has long been a custom with the pardoning power at Washington to grant a meritorious prisoner his freedom as an act of grace at the season of “peace on earth and good will among men.”
President Wilson granted the Christmas pardon as usual, but in this instance it was not in response to the numerously signed petitions representing every state in the union which had been presented to him-the boon was granted to an Indian serving a life sentence for murder.
Attorney General Palmer had finally filed with the President his long delayed and expected report on my case. Speculation was rife as to whether the recommendation would be favorable or otherwise.
The doubt was summarily dispelled when the report flashed over the wires that President Wilson had refused to grant the petition circulated and forwarded to him in my behalf, notwithstanding the Attorney General’s recommendation for my release.
Wilson Wrote Denial.
When Mr. Palmer’s report was placed before the ailing President, the latter had but one word to offer as signifying his attitude toward me. Over the face of the recommendation he scrawled, “DENIED.”
I have been a trifle more than casually interested in the reason that prompted Mr. Wilson to arrive at that state of mind and that reason is furnished by his former private secretary, Joseph P. Tumulty, who, in his book, “Woodrow Wilson as I Knew Him,” sets down this record of the President’s comment in my case:
One of the things to which he paid particular attention at this time, the last days of his rule, was the matter of the pardon of Eugene V. Debs. The day that the recommendation arrived at the White House he looked it over and examined it carefully and said:
“I will never consent to the pardon of this man. I know that in certain quarters of the country there is a popular demand for the pardon of Debs, but it shall never be accomplished with my consent.
“Were I to consent to it, I should never be able to look into the faces of the mothers of this country who sent their boys to the other side. While the flower of American youth was pouring out its blood to vindicate the cause of civilization, this man Debs stood behind the lines, sniping, attacking and denouncing them.
Placed Incommunicado.
“Before the war he had a perfect right to exercise his freedom of speech and to express his own opinion, but after the Congress of the United States declared war, silence on his part would have been the proper course to pursue.
“I know there will be a great deal of denunciation of me for refusing this pardon. They will say I am cold-blooded and indifferent, but it will make no impression on me. This man was a traitor to his country, and he will never be pardoned during my administration.”
Personally I have no fault to find, nor any criticism to level at President Wilson for what he considered to be his proper course. But the interest is quite naturally aroused when we come upon an expression such as the following from Mr. Wilson:
“I have no fault to find, Tumulty, with the men who disagree with me, and I ought not to penalize them when they give honest expression to what they believe are honest opinions.”
I have nothing but pity and compassion for a man, even though he be President of the United States, who feels himself so unutterably lonely as to be impelled to give voice to such a sad sentiment as the following:
“It is no compliment to have it said that I am only a highly developed intellectual machine. Good God! Is there no more to me than that? Well, I want the people to love me, but I suppose they never will.”
Immediately following the action of Mr. Wilson, representatives of the press appeared at the prison for an interview, but I declined to comment on the executive’s action. Some days later I was visited by two friends, one of whom was an Atlanta reporter, and during the conversation that followed I expressed my opinion of the President’s action. In so doing I was entirely within my rights under the rules of the prison.
The report of my comment was published the following day and appears to have displeased the President, for immediately afterward an order was issued depriving me of all writing and visiting privileges and placing me incommunicado for an indefinite period. I was told that this measure had been taken by order of the President himself, because my observations had vexed him and he wanted no more of them.
Order Is Protested.
This action created a sensation in the prison and was flashed broadcast over the country.
The reaction that followed was swift and emphatic. Popular resentment was far more widespread than that which attended my incarceration.
Thousands of people who were not in agreement with me at all felt that my imprisonment was sufficient without depriving me of the limited rights that remained to me as a prisoner, and joined in the swelling demand that the order placing me incommunicado be revoked.
Public men of prominence and some newspapers of influence joined in the protest. So insistent became the demand for the restoration of my prison privileges that after a period of almost three weeks, during which my family and friends were permitted neither to see nor hear from me, the order was partially (and doubtless grudgingly) revoked on the day before Mr. Wilson’s retirement from office; but I was never again permitted to see a newspaper man or any one who was in any way connected with the press.
Effect of the Order.
It was the general opinion about the prison that the revocation was deferred until the President was about to leave office and that action was taken then only because my limited privileges would almost certainly be restored by President Harding,
The effect of Mr. Wilson’s order of revocation increased the desire and insistence of newspaper men to see me and obtain a further expression of my views, which the warden spared me under the ironclad special rule that forbade my seeing (much less being interviewed) by reporters.
The warden was kept busy enforcing the rule and a sharp lookout was kept to prevent a possible newspaper man from satisfying the public curiosity as to what I had to say about not being permitted to say anything!
—————