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J. Frank (James Frank) Hanly.

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soldiers at Vicksburg, Mississippi, and at the unveiling of
the monument erected to Indiana's dead at Andersonville,
Georgia. In these addresses he rose to the high levels of
commemorative oratory.

Governor of his State at forty-one, he laid further polit-
ical ambition on the altar of the great cause that has since
enlisted his highest efforts, and has become one of its fore-
most advocates, bringing to its defense a zeal that never
flags, a consecration that ennobles and an eloquence that
inspires, persuades and convinces. He has been heard in
every State in the Union and in every great city in America.

Honest in his public service, pure in a life full of rewards
and honors, a life which has been without the slightest stain
of cowardice or double-dealing, he brings to bear on every
question he presents the force and power of a compelling
and mighty personality. Of his work on the platform it
has been said: "It is the art of public speech at its best;
it is oratory at its highest."

In connection with Hon. Oliver W. Stewart and Mr.
William M. Conrad, formerly of the staff of the Washing-
ton Star, he is now devoting all his time and energies to
the founding and establishing of the "National Enquirer",
a great national weekly, to be published in Indianapolis,

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SPEECHES OF THE FLYING SQUADRON

to the organization and establishment of the "Flying Squad-
ron Foundation," and to the advocacy on the platform of
State and Nation-wide Prohibition.



[25]



"I HATE IT"

"I bear no malice toward those engaged in the liquor
business, but I hate the traffic.

"I hate its every phase.

"I hate it for its intolerance.

"I hate it for its arrogance.

"I hate it for its hypocrisy; for its cant and craft and
false pretense.

"I hate it for its commercialism; for its greed and ava-
rice ; for its sordid love of gain at any price.

"I hate it for its domination of politics ; for its corrupting
influence in civic affairs ; for its incessant effort to debauch
the suffrage of the country ; for the cowards it makes of
public men.

"I hate it for its utter disregard of law; for its ruthless
trampling of the solemn compacts of State constitutions.

"I hate it for the load it straps to labor's back ; for the
palsied hands it gives to toil ; for its wounds to genius ; for
the tragedies of its might-have-beens.

"I hate it for the human wrecks it has caused.

"I hate it for the almshouses it peoples ; for the prisons it
fills ; for the insanity it begets ; for its countless graves in
potters' fields.

"I hate it for the mental ruin it imposes upon its victims ;
for its spiritual blight; for its moral degradation.

"I hate it for the crimes it commits ; for the homes it
destroys ; for the hearts it breaks.

"I hate it for the malice it plants in the hearts of men ;
for its poison, for its bitterness, for the dead sea fruit with
which it starves their souls.

"I hate it for the grief it causes womanhood the scald-
ing tears, the hopes deferred, the strangled aspirations, its
burden of want and care.

"I hate it for its heartless cruelty to the aged, the infirm

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SPEECHES OF THE FLYING SQUADRON

and the helpless ; for the shadow it throws upon the lives
of children; for its monstrous injustice to blameless little
ones.

"I hate it as virtue hates vice, as truth hates error, as
righteousness hates sin, as justice hates wrong, as liberty
hates tyranny, as freedom hates oppression.

"I hate it as Abraham Lincoln hated slavery, and as he
sometimes saw in prophetic vision the end of slavery, and
the coming of the time when the sun should shine and the
rain should fall upon no slave in all the Republic, so I
sometimes seem to see the end of this unholy traffic, the
coming of the time when, if it does not wholly cease to be,
it shall find no safe habitation anywhere beneath Old
Glory's stainless stars."



[28]



THE TRIAL OF JOHN BARLEYCORN

I DO NOT SPEAK tonight in behalf of any party, of
any sect, of any creed. I am here on the business of
the King. My client is mankind. I hold a brief for
the human race ; for the living, the unborn, the unbegotten ;
for all who are, in any land, in any clime ; for all who are
to be. You are my jury, and I shall arraign and put upon
trial before you the capital criminal of the race John
Barleycorn.

I shall charge him with high crimes and misdemeanors,
and shall claim at your hands a verdict of guilty; a judg-
ment of condemnation!

You may refuse me ! yes, I know you may ! as men and
women have refused me before; but even though you do,
the time will yet come in this Nation when the American
people will give me judgment.

I have within me the flower of a great faith tonight.
Let me unfold its bloom to you, that you too may catch
its beauty and hold to your doubting hearts the consolation
of its perfume: God is, and reigns! No just cause ever
dies ! You may kill its defenders, as you sometimes have.
You may silence its advocates, as you still sometimes do.
You may drive from place and power all who for the hour
administer government in its name, and they may pass
away, and cease forever to have to do with public affairs ;
but in the fullness of God's own time He raises up new
advocates and commissions new defenders.

There is something about a great cause, so august and
so sublime; it so grips the hearts of men and women, and
links it to their souls, that for every one who falls in its
defense an hundred spring to its rescue, and bear it in
strong and loving endeavor so near the gates of the Eternal
City that the good God smiles upon it in recognition and
crowns it with victory.

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SPEECHES OF THE FLYING SQUADRON

No just cause ever dies ! And no evil cause ever lives
in perpetuity. The sepulcher of the centuries is filled with
the whitening bones of dead evils, slain by man in his climb
toward God. You may build build in your pride and power
as deep as the Continent ; build as high as the Himalayas
but if you build upon human wrong or upon human injus-
tice, the hour will come when the heart-throb of a woman
the pulse of a baby somewhere, will beat down the mighty
edifice you rear, toppling it in ruins about your nerveless,
helpless hands. Right may ascend the scaffold ; Wrong may
mount the throne

"But * * * behind the dim unknown
Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above
his own."

In the long fight stretching through the centuries His
arm will be the strongest.

On the 19th of last November, a year ago, a proud, high
privilege came to me the privilege of standing among the
graves at Gettysburg, on the spot where Lincoln stood
fifty years before to a day, to pronounce that immortal
oration delivered in dedication of the National Cemetery
there the privilege of standing there and of speaking to
a mighty concourse of my fellow-countrymen. About me,
spreading like the waves of the sea, were the grass-covered
graves of more than ten thousand men who fell in that red
tide. As I rose to speak it seemed to me I stood on holy
ground, on soil forever consecrated consecrated by the
spilled and mingled blood of two heroic peoples ; and when
I had finished and turned to walk away, I read, ever and
anon, on the upturned oval of the little white tombstones
there, the only tribute posterity has paid to many of them,
the single word "Unknown." Think a minute "Unknown !"
There they had lain for fifty years. There they will lie,
through the morning's flush, the sunset's glow ; in solitude,

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SPEECHES OF THE FLYING SQUADRON

beneath the silent, circling stars. They gave not only their
lives, they gave their identity itself, forever and forever.

Then I walked out of the cemetery, out from among the
graves, down the shell-plowed slope immortalized by Pick-
ett's wondrous charge, into the valley below, and counted
in my mind's thought the human toll of those three fateful
days. There in the little valley, spread out before me,
were more than forty thousand men dead, wounded and
dying a human cataclysm, a racial catastrophe, a whirlwind
from hell! Language cannot paint the thing I saw. Words
cannot describe it. Imagination cannot conceive the horror or
the tragedy of it. As I looked upon it I cried out in the anguish
of my soul, "Oh, the pity of it all! How some one must
have blundered!"

And yet, colossal as was the human cataclysm there at
Gettysburg, there is a greater one being wrought this hour
in the life of this people. In this glad morning of this tre-
mendous century, in this day of peace, for us, with all the
world, John Barleycorn, the defendant at this high bar to-
night, kills every year, here in this Republic, five times as
many men as fell at Gettysburg; and kills with our sanc-
tion, under legislative enactment, constitutional provision
and judicial decree kills, holding our warrant for his crime,
under the authority of a commission bearing the seal of the
government under which we live the government of
Washington and of Lincoln !

There is this difference between his dead and the dead
at Gettysburg:

For the dead at Gettysburg there was compensation.
They did not die in vain. Out of their spilled blood the
Nation arose, purified and glorified. Out of the fire and
flame of the three red days at Gettysburg our country
came, every star in its flag in its wonted place ; its divided
sections reunited; its war-worn people reconciled, and at
their feet the broken shackles of thrice a million slaves.

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SPEECHES OF THE FLYING SQUADRON

But for the dead killed by John Barleycorn there is no
compensation. Their's is utter, colossal, irretrievable loss.
For them there is in all the world no balance sheet no
balance sheet.

The dead killed at Gettysburg left to their children a
heritage of glory and renown. Oh, sir, the splendor of it !
Where breathes a man tonight in whose veins runs a drop
of blood of one who died in that red tide, on either side,
whether he fell wrapped in gray or clad in blue, who does
not walk with higher head and firmer tread at the memory
of it?

But the dead killed by John Barleycorn leave to their
children no heritage of glory or renown ; their's is a legacy
of shame and of dishonor, interfibered with regret and grief.

The dead killed at Gettysburg left to their posterity
sound bodies, clean souls, strong hands, clear intellects,
imperial wills, unbreakable moral stamina! What a heri-
tage ! What a heritage !

But the dead killed by John Barleycorn leave to their
posterity broken bodies, distraught souls, palsied hands,
enfeebled intellects, impaired wills, and utter lack of moral
stamina. For hear me: John Barleycorn not only kills
the sire, he wounds to its death the offspring as well; puts
into its veins a thirst that will not be satisfied, interfibers
with its being appetites that cannot be controlled. He
dethrones the soul, enthrones the flesh, and makes the pas-
sions master of the man.

And so, in this goodly presence, at this holy bar and in
this sacred place, tonight, I charge him with murder
wholesale, atrocious, million-fingered murder murder of
men (I have looked upon their broken bodies), murder of
women, murder of little children, murder of babes unborn !
And you you are the jury, with power of verdict, power
of judgment, power of execution. Come, you men ! Come

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SPEECHES OF THE FLYING SQUADRON

with me, and we'll weave the death-robe, hew the death-
block, and lead him to his execution in State and in Nation.

I charge him, too, with twenty-five per cent, of all the
insanity in the Nation. Think a minute! Do you really
know what that means? Let me illustrate what it means
by the facts in my own State. In Indiana the population
of the State has increased twenty-two per cent, in twenty
years, but insanity has increased sixty-nine per cent, in
fifteen years ! Men and women ! Do you know the end
of that road? Do you? The end of that road is national
decay, moral degeneracy, man-failure, woman-failure ! And
in this Republic man-failure and woman-failure mean insti-
tutional failure failure of institutions for which men have
died at the battle's front, sad only that they had but one
life to give.

I charge him with thirty-five per cent, of all the vagrancy
in the Nation the poverty, pauperism and dependency.

And I charge him with seventy-five per cent, of all the
crime committed in the land, and I do not guess ; I know !
I know ! For four years I administered the government
of a great American Commonwealth. For four years it
was my business to know. For four years I walked the
corridors and tarried in the wards of hospital, reformatory
and prison, and became familiar with the tragic story their
records tell. For four years I counted the cost and toll of
it all and weighed the evidence as it passed through the
Governor's office. In four years I read, page by page, the
court record in more than six hundred criminal cases com-
ing before me on appeal for executive clemency, and in
seventy-five per cent, of them all John Barleycorn was
the responsible, producing agency of the crime committed.

I charge him, too, with the spoliation of the childhood of
the Nation. And again I do not guess ; I know ! Yes, I know !
Sometimes I wish I did not know. Let me illustrate some-
thing of what I know: In my State, tonight, there are

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SPEECHES OF THE FLYING SQUADRON

more than a thousand children in the custodial, correctional
care of the Commonwealth, under sixteen years of age
some of them only six. They ought to be in mother arms
this hour. Instead they are in the correctional care of the
State, clothed and housed and fed at public expense; de-
prived of a mother's love, denied a father's care.

I visited them many times as Governor, looked into their
faces and read in lack-luster eye, in degenerate counte-
nance, in deformed, misshapen bodies, in crooked, twisted
limbs the irrefragable proof of the pitiful fact that they,
these thousand children, are atoning for some one's else
sin paying the price of another's wrong. Paying the price?
Aye, paying every day and every hour, and will continue to
pay while God lets them live !

They never had a fair chance ! They never knew a square
deal ! For the records show that more than six hundred
and fifty of them have, or had, drunken fathers or drunken
mothers, or, God in heaven pity them, both drunken fathers
and drunken mothers! Wronged in the moment of their
conception ! Wounded in their mothers' wombs ! Disin-
herited at their birth! Their destiny fixed from the begin-
ning a State institution, hospital, reformatory, prison; the
electric chair, or the gallows ! What an indictment of twen-
tieth century civilization it all is! I never left the presence
of these children that the soul of me did not cry out, that
a great, free, powerful people ought not to license and
legalize a thing that so wrongs the childhood they beget.

Somewhere I've read somewhere in this old Book that
God, the Father of us all, marks the sparrow's fall. And if
He does mark the fall of the sparrow the fall of a bird
think you He does not mark the fall of these little ones?
Fifty thousand of them every year! And if He does mark
their fall, think you He does not fix responsibility for their
fall? And if He does fix responsibility for their fall, what
answer can you make, standing at His eternal judgment

[34]



SPEECHES OF THE FLYING SQUADRON

bar ? you who hold the power ! You who, under God, are
sovereign here ! You, who could end it all, in this Republic !
Could end it all, but do not! Do not!

What judgment think you ought to be rendered against
you? Ought to be rendered against you? Aye, already is
rendered ! Rendered two thousand years ago as it fell from
the lips of the great Nazarene, among the hills of Palestine,
when He called unto Him a little child, set him in the midst
of the multitude, and then said unto them: "Woe unto
him who offendeth one of these little ones. It were better
that a millstone were hanged about his neck and he cast
into the sea." Men and women ! Men and women ! Hear
me! The judgments of the Lord are altogether true and
righteous! This one, righteous when uttered, in the dim
dawn of the Christian era, cannot be less righteous in the
noontide glow of the Christian era. This judgment, right-
eous two thousand years ago in the land of Palestine, must
needs be righteous now, in the land of Washington, of
Lincoln and of Lee !

It cannot be that, with the process of the suns and the
evolution of the race, we shall much longer continue to
wrong the children we beget. It cannot be that the cry
of these defective little ones shall go much longer unheard
by the manhood and womanhood of this Nation. No, it
must needs be that soon, in some luminous moment, the
fatherhood and the motherhood of the land shall find itself,
and drive, in their power and indignation, from the confines
of the Republic, this thing that so grievously wounds the
childhood of the Republic! If I did not believe that, my
heart would break with grief, disappointment and shame !

Let me show you further the enormity of this defendant's
crimes the magnitude and awfulness of their results as
exemplified in a single American commonwealth the State
in which I live.

As I speak to you there are in the custodial care of my

[35]



SPEECHES OF THE FLYING SQUADRON

State more than twelve thousand men and women more
than five thousand of them insane ! In the custodial care
of State, county and city there are more than four thousand
dependent children! In the custodial care of the State
alone, more than twelve hundred feeble-minded children !
There are more than three thousand other men and women
in county asylums. And in 1913 we jailed in a single year
a vast army of men and women more than forty thousand,
eighteen thousand of them for being found drunk in a
public place and gave in the same year outside poor relief
to another army of more than fifty-one thousand men and
women ! What a mighty army they constitute, this army
of the dependent, the defective, the degenerate and the
criminal more than one hundred and ten thousand one
person out of every twenty-five in all the population of the
Commonwealth !

Here they come ! Here they come ! The parade of the
unfortunate, the disinherited! More than five thousand
insane men and women men and women bereft of reason
followed by four thousand dependent children; these by
twelve hundred feeble-minded children, and they by a thou-
sand incorrigibles. Yonder, in the next division, are the
criminals, twenty-four hundred, from prison and reforma-
tory; then three thousand men and women from city in-
firmaries and county asylums ; and then a tousled, disease-
infected, rum-marked host forty thousand the inmates from
the county jails of the State for a single year ; eighteen hundred
of them reeling under intoxication ; after them, fifty-one thou-
sand dependents, feeding from the hand of public charity.
What a commentary upon our civilization they all are ! If
you ask "What of it? What is all that to me?" you have
my answer in another question, "Who feeds this army of the
dependent, the defective, the degenerate, the criminal?
Who clothes it? Who houses it? Who pays for its care?"

[36]



SPEECHES OF THE FLYING SQUADRON

Four million dollars a year! In my State my people pay,
my people pay !

And this defendant, the defendant here at this bar tonight,
is responsible for more than fifty per cent, of it all. It is
with these high crimes I charge him, and there is for him
no defense.

I understand a gentleman speaking from this platform
the other night declared this traffic was moral and right.
If it is, then it is moral to despoil the helpless, to wrong
the innocent; if it is, then murder is moral; if it is,
then it is moral to disinherit babyhood, to wrong child-
hood in its conception, to wound it in its mother's womb !
Men and women, hear me! If this thing be moral, then
there is no crime beneath the stars ! And here stands the
defendant he stands before you to be judged. There is
no defense for him. There is not an alienist in all the land
who will testify for him ; not a sociologist anywhere who
will speak in his behalf; no laboratory that will yield him
evidence. No, he stands at the bar to be judged, with the
blood upon his knotted hands. The whole world knows
his guilt. And he, too, knows his guilt. Knows it better
than all others. Knows it so well that he makes no defense.
Instead of a plea in denial of his guilt, he makes a plea for
mercy; begs you, now that you have him at bay and his
guilt is known, begs you for mercy. John Barleycorn, the
capital criminal of the race, at bay, begging for mercy at
the hands of free men and women! Mercy? Mercy for
him? For a thousand years he has refused it to human
kind ! For a thousand years he has debauched mankind and
denied it mercy! For a thousand years he has entangled
his knotted fingers in the heartstrings of the motherhood
of the race and has denied it mercy ! For a thousand years
he has bruised the mute lips of babyhood and denied it
mercy ! And now shall we, who have him at bay, who have
the power, shall we yield to him that which he has denied

[37]



SPEECHES OF THE FLYING SQUADRON

the race for a thousand years? Or shall we render a ver-
dict a verdict just as heaven ; a judgment unerring as
God's will? Instead of mercy, let us weave the death-robe,
hew the death-block, and lead him to his execution lead
him to his execution in State and in Nation !

He pleads that you ought not to execute him, that you
instead ought to restrict him, and restrain him, and regulate
him, and control him; that you ought to do nothing that
cripples him, take no step calculated to drive him to the wall
or to narrow his environment; that you ought to provide
by law the time and place where, by your authority, he can
continue to ravage the human race!

Regulate, restrain, restrict, control him ? We have tried that
in America for two hundred years, and for two hundred years
we have failed. When we have put upon him a restriction as to
place, he has overstepped that restriction; when we have
put upon him a limitation as to days or as to hours, he has
broken that limitation ; when we have laid upon him a regula-
tion as to condition, he has trampled upon that regulation. For
two hundred years he has been as much the enemy of the
institutions of this country as though he had trained shot-
ted guns on her forts and arsenals, and the hour has come,
when, by legislative enactment, constitutional provision and
judicial decree he ought to be branded that which he is in
fact, an outlaw and a brigand !

Restrict, restrain, regulate and control him! When I
think of our attitude and our long-continued and fruitless
efforts in that behalf, I am reminded of a test for insanity
I have seen put to applicants for admission to hospitals for
the insane. The patient is brought into a room bare of
furniture, save only a bathtub, filled to the brim with
water. The faucet is opened, pouring a stream of water
into the tub. The tub, however, is so arranged that it
stands brimful but does not run over. The patient is
brought to the bathtub, is shown the tub of water, is given

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a dipper and is told to dip the tub dry. If he is insane he
takes the dipper, and dips, and dips, and dips, until you tell
him to quit. But if he is sane he does not dip long until
he discovers he has not lowered the water in the tub. Then
he investigates, finds the open faucet, turns the water off,
and dips the bathtub dry. I am wondering, my friends,
how soon, if ever, you will be able to meet that test.

For two hundred years you have been dipping, dipping,
dipping, insanely dipping! Let's turn the faucet off turn
it off in State and in Nation and dip the bathtub dry!

He files another special plea, not of defense, but of
avoidance, a plea of financial investment and right of prop-
erty. He insists that he has two thousand million dollars
invested in the business, and in property's name, and in the
name of vested rights, he demands that we spare him. But
this plea is as fallacious as the other. Don't you know
that a people cannot found industrial efficiency, or com-
mercial prosperity upon a human vice? Don't you know
that a man cannot drink himself into sobriety, or into
financial competence, or into health, or into respectable
standing in a community? Don't you? It's utterly im-
possible that a man may found strength, courage or effi-
ciency upon the drink habit.

To his plea of vested rights in property owned, I an-
swer: For more than thirty years all men who cared to



Online LibraryJ. Frank (James Frank) HanlySpeeches of the Flying squadron → online text (page 2 of 27)