The Trial of Lizzie Borden(20)

Melvin O. Adams, courtesy of Fall River Historical Society



Jennings needed help. He was primarily a corporate lawyer, retained by Andrew Borden to handle his business affairs. He hired Melvin O. Adams, an urbane Boston lawyer who had also been an assistant district attorney in Suffolk County. Adams, a handsome man with a waxed moustache, was said to spend much “attention to his looks, and they are worth it.” In addition to “great, handsome brown eyes,” he had “the generous full mouth of an orator and the strong nose that usually goes with it.” His coiffure even boasted two perfect little curls. His appearance aside, Adams was a gifted lawyer with a strong record as both a prosecutor and as a defense lawyer. Adams would have the task of cross-examining the state’s key witnesses, especially any scientific or medical experts.

Jennings and Adams knew that the preliminary hearing was the defense’s opportunity to stop the prosecution of Lizzie Borden. But for the residents of Fall River, the most salient characteristic of a preliminary hearing was that it was open to the public. On Monday, August 22, the New York Times announced: “Never in the history of this section has a criminal trial attracted the interest manifested at the opening to-day of the preliminary hearing of Lizzie A. Borden, charged with the brutal murder of her father and stepmother.” By the middle of the day, “crowds commenced to gather in Court Square, and the passageway through the center of the narrow streets upon which the Central Police Station stands was rendered impassable.” The Fall River Daily Globe’s crime reporter E. H. Porter noticed the social range of people in attendance, “calico” mixed with “silk.” The audience included distinguished members of the Massachusetts bar, prominent citizens of Fall River, and a large number of physicians. Women were equally well represented, composing a majority in the room. He also noticed “an immense delegation of mill women” stranded outside the courtroom, their break too late to secure access to the interior. Porter declared: “It was worth one’s life to attempt to enter or leave the building.” Packed “like sardines in a box,” the three hundred spectators (and more than thirty reporters) awaiting Lizzie Borden’s arrival in the courthouse were sufficient to require a squad of officers. Nor was it a quiet gathering. Reporters described “a confused murmur of voices on all sides, and the one theme of debate was the fair prisoner’s guilt or innocence.”

In her Taunton jail cell, Lizzie Borden dressed for court with care. She wore a “blue bonnet trimmed with ribbon and [a] small flower, blue veil, plain blue serge gown, narrow skirt, draped, with a train, and with a close-fitting bodice of this season’s pattern.” Accompanied by Marshal Hilliard, she spent the train ride from Taunton to Fall River in “a condition of apparent abstraction,” ignoring other passengers who paraded past to catch a glimpse of her. Those in the courtroom had a longer wait: in a separate room, the attorneys conferred for so long that even the judge “glanced impatiently at his watch.” “Suspense,” according to Porter, “was momentarily broken, however, by a threatened fight between a New Bedford newspaper man and a violently disposed individual past middle age.” Finally, the lawyers entered the courtroom: Andrew Jennings, “dressed in a steel gray suit with frock coat and white tie,” arrived first, followed by Knowlton, wearing “a pepper and salt suit” and an incongruously “jaunty white straw hat.” He had just returned from his summer vacation cottage in Marion, Massachusetts, and he looked “sunbronzed” and rested. (He facetiously told Attorney General Pillsbury that his vacation had been “killed with the Bordens.”) But it was Melvin O. Adams who cut the most impressive figure. This was Adams’s first outing as Lizzie Borden’s champion, and he did not disappoint. “Dressed in a suit of navy blue,” Adams, “despite the heat, looked as cool and placid as if victory had been won by his client and the mercury was at freezing.” The mercury was far from freezing inside the courtroom. Rather, “The air was stale, the heat very oppressive, and those within were almost as anxious to get out as those outside were to get in.” Those who persevered were not rewarded for their endurance. After all the anticipation, Hosea Knowlton informed the court that the medical experts were not ready to testify and requested a continuance until Thursday.

The crowds returned to their homes but Lizzie Borden remained in the Fall River Police Station, billeted at Matron Reagan’s jail apartment. It was an amicable arrangement. Instead of being escorted back and forth under police guard to Taunton, she received visits from her sister and a small circle of local friends. On Wednesday, Emma arrived early for her normal visit; however, Matron Reagan said she soon overheard “loud voices.” Glancing into the room, she saw Lizzie lying on the bed and heard her declare: “Emma, you’ve given me away.” Emma then replied: “I only told Mr. Jennings what I thought he ought to know.” Lizzie responded: “You have and I will let you see I won’t give in one inch.” She then turned onto her left side, faced out the window, and did not speak again until Jennings arrived later that morning.

This, Jennings knew, was trouble. He drew up a statement for the matron to sign, denying the quarrel occurred. But when Matron Reagan was presented with the statement, she refused to sign, stating that she needed to consult Marshal Hilliard. A motley delegation of Borden’s lawyers, friends, and newspapermen followed Matron Reagan on her trek through the building to Hilliard’s office. Upon hearing of the Jennings plan, Hilliard told her not to sign any statement and advised her to “remain silent until she was called upon to testify to what she had heard.” Jennings was furious. Brandishing the statement, he addressed the assembled newspapermen, charging that Hilliard had refused to let the matron sign the denial-of-the-quarrel story. According to Porter, “An excited scene followed in which there was much animated talk.” Most papers reported the quarrel but, the Boston Globe complained, “some other jealous papers, exasperated at being ‘beaten’ on such a development in this remarkable case, saw fit to throw doubt on the Globe’s exclusive.”