Death Songs

Media coverage of Kelly Gissendaner’s execution in the small hours of Wednesday morning stressed the apparent anomalies of an act that, in this country, is hardly anomalous: that she was first woman to be killed by the State of Georgia in seventy years and that she sang as she died. Even a letter on her behalf from Pope Francis could not convince the Georgia Board of Pardons and Paroles to grant clemency.

Eyewitness accounts told of her final rendition of Amazing Grace amidst sobs and bursts of prayer while she lay strapped to the gurney in the purgatorial green-brick execution chamber at the Jackson State Prison. Outside the gates of the facility a group of anti-death penalty activists intoned the same hymn, one often claimed as the best-known and most-oft sung on the planet.

For many, singing at an execution summons up thoughts of the Old West, the condemned’s last moments accompanied by evangelical song. One of the most famous of these scenes comes from the execution of Tom Horn in 1903 in Cheyenne, Wyoming. He’d allegedly gunned down a fourteen-year-old boy during a range war. The Denver reporter John Charles Thompson described the scene:

“Would you like us to sing, Tom?” asked Charlie Irwin. “Yes, I’d like that,” responded Horn. So, while [Deputy Sheriff] Proctor buckled straps that bound Horn’s arms and legs, the Irwins, each in a rich tenor, sang a rather lugubrious song popular on the range, Life is Like a Mountain Railroad.”

Horn’s memoir published in Denver a year after his death included letters and statements from his friends, as well as the text of the song (heard here in a version by Johnny Cash). “Life is like a mountain railroad, with an engineer that’s brave; We must make the run successful, from the cradle to the grave; Watch the curves, the fills, the tunnels; never falter, never quail; Keep your hand upon the throttle, and your eye upon the rail.” The book prints all four verses and the chorus, suggesting that the brothers sang the whole thing, until—and perhaps after—the trap door had opened beneath Horn.

A prefatory description imbues the scene with more feeling than does Thompson’s reportage:

“Tom Horn counted among his most valued friends the Irwin brothers, Charles and Frank, and rightly so; for when his last moments had come (moments from which the most devoted shrank), theirs were the last friendly faces he beheld—these two, who were there to sustain him, singing, at the scaffold’s foot, with brave, tear-choked voices, a song to cheer their former comrade in his extremity.”

Unlike Gissendaner, who repented of her crime and on her deathbed bewailed her commissioning of the murder of her husband, Horn maintained his innocence until the end.

From Old Europe to the Old West, hymns at pubic executions were meant to repudiate the intransigent or to console those who had admitted their guilt, thus confirming in song that murderers, too, would receive Jesus’ forgiveness even if judicial authority denied mercy. In eighteenth-century Leipzig Bach’s choir processed behind the condemned to the scaffold while singing Lutheran chorales. Those to be executed almost always confessed since they had been tortured to do so, not for the purposes of confirming guilt but as a service to the accused in order to save their souls.

In the present day, public executions by ISIS in Syria have likewise been accompanied by live music. Maher Meshaal, the man referred to sardonically in Western reports as the “chief ISIS singer-songwriter” was killed by a U. S. drone in July. Ironically, it wasn’t his own music, but “the rocket’s red glare” that sent him to his death. Meshaal’s own solo cantillations and studio-produced songs of blood-curdling devotion live on in YouTube, resounding there in spite of their denuded digital form with a chilling intensity demonstrating that the ultimate matter of salvation can spawn the most unsettling music imaginable.

In many cultures individuals are equipped with death songs that will carry them across the threshold to the next world. The Lutherans of Bach’s time were instructed to learn chorale melodies that they could sing on their deathbeds to steal themselves against the final assault of the devil. One favorite for these purposes was Wenn mein Stundlein vorhanden ist (When my little hour is at hand), an affirmative major melody with which Bach closes his cantata from 1723 Christus, der ist mein Leben, Sterben ist mein Gewinn (Christ is my life, dying my is gain). If possible, the dying used these hymns to sing themselves to sleep for the last time. The snarling lions and gnawing rats that the devil conjured around the deathbed were as terrifying as the fears of the scaffold, or so claimed many Lutheran pastors: one’s own pious music stilled the demons.

Harry Paige’s 1970 book Songs of the Teton Sioux, one of the most humane and beautiful books of ethnomusicology ever written, contains this deathbed scene, one that in the aftermath of Gissendaner’s execution summons thoughts of that Georgia chamber whose only windows opened onto the observation room:

“There are few poets in the records of western civilization known to have sung their swan song, who have faced death with only the armor of song. Yet the Sioux has done this—and still continue to do it. The writer will never forget the old woman who lay dying in the alien sterility of a hospital room in Rosebud, South Dakota, in the summer of 1964. She motioned for the nurse to draw open the shades so that she might see the hills, the sun and the sky. Then, in a feeble voice that held no hint of fear, she began to sing her death song. The words were fragile and confused, but the last part clear: ‘le makoce waste wi kiN wana ehake waNmayakuwe.’ (This land is beautiful. O Sun, now for the last time, come greet me again.)”

The spurious calm of the Georgia execution chamber was unmasked by Gissendaner’s distress even as she sang on the gurney, her voice fading before the color of her face turned from “crimson to gray in a matter of minutes” and her “hands [went] from flexing to stillness,” as one eyewitness put it. The crackle of the auto-da-fé may have been inaudible in the death chamber but it was there nonetheless.

Gissendaner’s troubled singing made me think of the steadfast voice of Protestant Reformer Jan Hus, who died on the heretic’s pyre six hundred years ago this past July. Here is an English translation of his student Peter of Mladonovice’s eyewitness account of the last that was heard of Hus:

“When the executioners at once lit [the fire], the Master immediately began to sing in a loud voice, at first ‘Christ, Thou son of the God, have mercy upon us,’ and secondly, Christ, Thou son of the God, have mercy upon me,” and in the third place, ‘Thou Who art born of Mary the Virgin.’ And when he began to sing the third time, the wind blew the flame into his face. And thus praying within himself and moving his lips and the head, he expired in the Lord.”

The Atlanta nightly news program 11Alive published a 45-second segment of Gissendaner’s final words from the death chamber in which she asks prison pastor Susan Bishop “to let my kids know I went out singing Amazing Grace.” For the time being her death song itself has not been resurrected from the state department of correction’s audio vaults. It’s hardly surprising that this material has not been released. This song would be a more powerful a voice for ending the insanity of the death penalty than would any pope’s.

More articles by:

DAVID YEARSLEY is a long-time contributor to CounterPunch and the Anderson Valley Advertiser. His recording of J. S. Bach’s organ trio sonatas is available from Musica Omnia. He can be reached at  dgyearsley@gmail.com

June 25, 2018
Daniel Falcone
A Reporter’s Reporter: a Conversation With Seymour Hersh
Gerald Sussman
America’s Cold War “Tugboat”
Jonathan Cook
The Defiance that Launched Gaza’s Flaming Kites Cannot be Extinguished
P. Sainath
A Long March of the Dispossessed to Delhi 
Sheldon Richman
What Does Trump Have Against Children?
Lance Olsen
Caught in a Trap of Our Own Making: Climate Change, Blame, and Denial
Seth Sandronsky
A Safe Black Space
Kary Love
Crying Children and Due Process of Law
Gary Leupp
Why It Just Makes Sense for the U.S. to Withdraw from the UNHRC
John Laforge
Kings Bay Plowshares Action Names the Trident with Blood
Mel Gurtov
After Singapore, Is Iran the Next US Target?
Kent D. Shifferd
A Different Perspective on Peace
Uri Avnery
Two Souls
Laura Flanders
National Suicide Point?
Ludwig Watzal
The Death of Felicia Langer
Weekend Edition
June 22, 2018
Friday - Sunday
Karl Grossman
Star Wars Redux: Trump’s Space Force
Andrew Levine
Strange Bedfellows
Jeffrey St. Clair
Intolerable Opinions in an Intolerant Time
Paul Street
None of Us are Free, One of Us is Chained
Edward Curtin
Slow Suicide and the Abandonment of the World
Celina Stien-della Croce
The ‘Soft Coup’ and the Attack on the Brazilian People 
James Bovard
Pro-War Media Deserve Slamming, Not Sainthood
Louisa Willcox
My Friend Margot Kidder: Sharing a Love of Dogs, the Wild, and Speaking Truth to Power
David Rosen
Trump’s War on Sex
Mir Alikhan
Trump, North Korea, and the Death of IR Theory
Christopher Jones
Neoliberalism, Pipelines, and Canadian Political Economy
Barbara Nimri Aziz
Why is Tariq Ramadan Imprisoned?
Robert Fantina
MAGA, Trump Style
Linn Washington Jr.
Justice System Abuses Mothers with No Apologies
Martha Rosenberg
Questions About a Popular Antibiotic Class
Ida Audeh
A Watershed Moment in Palestinian History: Interview with Jamal Juma’
Edward Hunt
The Afghan War is Killing More People Than Ever
Geoff Dutton
Electrocuting Oral Tradition
Don Fitz
When Cuban Polyclinics Were Born
Ramzy Baroud
End the Wars to Halt the Refugee Crisis
Ralph Nader
The Unsurpassed Power trip by an Insuperable Control Freak
Lara Merling
The Pain of Puerto Ricans is a Profit Source for Creditors
James Jordan
Struggle and Defiance at Colombia’s Feast of Pestilence
Tamara Pearson
Indifference to a Hellish World
Kathy Kelly
Hungering for Nuclear Disarmament
Jessicah Pierre
Celebrating the End of Slavery, With One Big Asterisk
Rohullah Naderi
The Ever-Shrinking Space for Hazara Ethnic Group
Binoy Kampmark
Leaving the UN Human Rights Council
Nomi Prins 
How Trump’s Trade Wars Could Lead to a Great Depression
Robert Fisk
Can Former Lebanese MP Mustafa Alloush Turn Even the Coldest of Middle Eastern Sceptics into an Optimist?