Leon Czol­g­osz was born in 1873 and sen­ten­ced to death in 1901 for the ass­as­si­na­ti­on of Pre­si­dent Wil­liam McKin­ley. His tri­al was swift. He plead guil­ty and put up no defen­se. On the 29th of Octo­ber, the date Czo­log­osz was sla­ted to be exe­cu­ted, seven weeks after the ass­as­si­na­ti­on its­elf, Edwin Por­ter show­ed up at the Aub­urn Cor­rec­tion­al Faci­li­ty with a came­ra crew from the Edi­son Stu­dio. Por­ter had alre­a­dy made a num­ber of films about the ass­as­si­na­ti­on and tri­al, and he was hoping to fina­li­ze the pro­ject with a film docu­men­ting Czologosz’s exe­cu­ti­on. But Por­ter and his crew were tur­ned away by secu­ri­ty, and so he deci­ded ins­tead to shoot two pan­ning shots of the pri­son grounds from out­side the facility.

In the fol­lo­wing days, Por­ter over­saw the pro­duc­tion of two more shots; ree­nact­ments made in the Edi­son Stu­dio of Czologosz’s exe­cu­ti­on, based on eye-wit­ness accounts published in the news­pa­per. The first shot shows an actor play­ing Czol­g­osz being taken out of his cell by four guards. A seam in the brick-pat­ter­ned wall­pa­per is visi­ble. The next shot shows the same stage from the same ang­le with the same light­ing, only with dif­fe­rent wall­pa­per and the addi­ti­on of a prop elec­tric chair. The actor play­ing Czol­g­osz is strap­ped to it, his body flin­ches as a cur­rent of elec­tri­ci­ty is sent through it three times, and two doc­tors con­firm his death. The film, titled Exe­cu­ti­on of Czol­g­osz with Pan­ora­ma of Aub­urn Pri­son, was released on the 9th of Novem­ber, just ten days after the exe­cu­ti­on took place.

Joy­ce E. Jesi­o­now­ski tells me about the signi­fi­can­ce of the pan­o­r­amic shots in this film. Until then, pans were only ever used in non-fic­tion­al natu­re films to show expan­si­ve views of land­scapes. Porter’s film com­bi­ned the pan, which estab­lished a real loca­ti­on, with a staged recrea­ti­on of Czolgosz’s exe­cu­ti­on insi­de a stu­dio, and ther­eby mer­ged what had thus far been two distinct tech­ni­ques into one film. A bit of docu­men­ta­ti­on, a bit of recrea­ti­on. The real and the ima­gi­ned. I don’t know what it would be like for a style of shot to not just signi­fy an aes­the­tic decis­i­on, but to demar­ca­te a gen­re its­elf, and even more per­plex­ing is the thought of what it would be like to expe­ri­ence the­se forms crossing over one ano­ther and inter­ming­ling for the first time ever, befo­re they dis­sol­ved into a pastiche.

An ele­phant was born in 1875, two years after Leon Czol­g­osz, and was sen­ten­ced to death in 1903, two years after he was. She was named Topsy after a slave girl in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” Topsy was smug­g­led as an infant from Sou­the­ast Asia into the Sta­tes and forced to per­form as a cir­cus ani­mal in Coney Island. She endu­red hor­ri­ble abu­se at the hands of sadi­stic drin­kers. In 1902, a drunk wan­de­red into the tent whe­re she and a group of other ele­phants were tied up and tor­men­ted her, thro­wing sand in her eyes and bur­ning the tip of her trunk with a cigar. In a fury of pain, she threw him to the ground and tramp­led him. She was then sold to ano­ther zoo, the Luna Park, and her trai­ner, also a drunk, fol­lo­wed her the­re. One day in a fit of anger he stab­bed her with a pitch­fork and then, after being con­fron­ted by a poli­ce offi­cer, he let her run loo­se through the streets. A few months later the trai­ner rode her to the Coney Island Poli­ce Sta­ti­on, whe­re she tried to ram through the doors and scared all the offi­cers, who fled to the hol­ding cells for safety.

After this inci­dent her trai­ner was fired and the Luna Park deci­ded to get rid of her, but becau­se of the publi­ci­ty her most recent stunt drew, no other zoo would take her in. So it was deci­ded by the owners of the Luna Park that Topsy would be put to death, like Czol­g­osz, by elec­tro­cu­ti­on. At first the they tried to make a spec­ta­cle of her death, and to char­ge the public a fee to attend the event, but an ani­mal rights orga­niza­ti­on step­ped in and pre­ven­ted this from happening.

The date of her exe­cu­ti­on was sche­du­led for the 4th of Janu­ary 1903. Por­ter, a para­si­te of death, was the­re, again, with his crew. The Edi­son Elec­tric Com­pa­ny, ano­ther of Porter’s boss’s ven­tures, rig­ged power lines to direct a cur­rent through her body via cop­per pla­tes fas­ten­ed to her feet. Two mecha­ni­cal wren­ches were instal­led to cho­ke her to death in the event that the elec­tri­cal cur­rent did­n’t pro­ve lethal. And as a third mea­su­re, she was fed car­rots laced with four-hundred and six­ty grams of pot­as­si­um cyanide.

The first shot of Porter’s film Elec­tro­cu­ting an Ele­phant shows the fatal­ly poi­so­ned Topsy being direc­ted through the Luna Park. The plan was to bring her to an arti­fi­ci­al lagoon, but she fro­ze up befo­re a bridge, and the crew, unable to move her, deci­ded to relo­ca­te the exe­cu­ti­on to the place whe­re she obsti­na­te­ly stood. For­ty-five minu­tes after the first shot, the second shows her stan­ding in place until a shock goes through her body, at which point she ten­ses up and her feet begin to smo­ke, she falls over and we see the wren­ches begin to cho­ke her neck. The New York Times repor­ted that she met a «quick and pain­less death» and died «wit­hout a trumpet or a groan.»

The tech­ni­cal pro­fi­ci­en­cy of the spec­ta­cle and its docu­men­ta­ti­on seems to pre­fi­gu­re the coming years of infla­ti­on and poi­son-gas war­fa­re. But it’s also the rig­ged-up nai­ve­ty on dis­play in Topsy’s elec­tro­cu­ti­on that makes it so sadi­stic: to see in posteri­ty a record of a pri­mi­ti­ve death-machi­ne wiel­ded by an even more pri­mi­ti­ve socie­ty, who­se bar­ba­rism could be mea­su­red in direct rela­ti­on to its tech­no­lo­gi­cal sophisti­ca­ti­on. Wal­ter Ben­ja­min wro­te that the Luna­parks were a pre­de­ces­sor to the sana­to­ri­ums. They’re places for the body to recon­ci­le its­elf with tech­no­lo­gy by sub­mit­ting to its bewil­de­ring inten­si­ties, in the for­mer through a dream­li­ke play and in the lat­ter through a night­ma­rish coer­ci­on. The phar­maceu­ti­cal indus­try that repla­ced the asyl­ums and elec­t­ro-shock the­ra­pies has only made this assi­mi­la­ti­on a bit more dis­creet. It’s very dif­fi­cult to think of alteri­ty with film; the medi­um tends only to affirm. And yet the­re is some­thing so beau­tiful and ima­gi­na­ti­ve in the fusi­on of shots in Exe­cu­ti­on of Czol­g­osz with Pan­ora­ma of Aub­urn Pri­son, as though the­re was so much left to be dis­co­ver­ed in the rela­ti­onship bet­ween the real and the ima­gi­ned, as though the world was ripe with poten­ti­al for a trans­for­ma­ti­on that film could give expres­si­on to.