Forward
F
ew people shared my father’s grimmest duty as governor
like the Chaplain of Death Row. My father, Governor
Frank G. Clement, was the last person who could spare the
lives of death row inmates. Chaplain Marshall Roberson was
the last person who prayed with the condemned as they
were strapped into the electric chair. Both men agonized
over these executions because both faced these inmates
man-to-man, and both genuinely cared for the condemned
men’s souls.
The Chaplain’ son, and my good friend, Eddie Roberson
captures this story so well that while reading it I felt like I
was reliving the aftermath of these executions . During his
first two terms in the Governor’s office (1953-59), nothing
made as deep an impression during my formative years than
the sight of my father tearfully praying for these condemned
men because after he thoroughly reviewed their cases, he
could still find no reason to legally commute their sentence
to 99 years instead of death.
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Although it was in no way dictated by the office of
Governor, my father went to the State Penitentiary and met
with each and every one of the inmates and asked them
candidly, “Why should I spare your life?” One man admitted
for the first time he was guilty and said, “You shouldn’t
Governor. I did this crime.” My father prayed with these
men. Often he also met with the inmates’ families, which
made his decision even more painful.
Governor Frank G. Clement firmly believed in the Rule of
Law which guided many of his decisions, like desegregating
the first public school in the South. The use of the death
penalty deeply troubled him however, because it was not
always judiciously applied and was often racially biased.
During his third term (1963-67) my father tried to change
the law. When he wasn’t successful persuading members of
the state legislature he went to Death Row and commuted
the sentences of each of the condemned from death to 99
years– all were black and mostly from Memphis.
When he met with them he said “I can save your life
but I cannot save your soul. But Today I’m commuting your
sentence from death to 99 years behind bars.”
While my father was elected into the challenging duty of
working with the condemned, Reverend Marshall Roberson
came to his calling as the pastor of Death Row through a
different path. When he was a child, the Reverend’s uncle
was executed for armed robbery and accessory to murder.
So Chaplin Roberson genuinely related to the human spirit
of each condemned man, no matter his crime. During his
campaign, when my father met the Pastor near his Cleveland
church, they immediately became close friends. Both
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recognized a common bond. My father was impressed with
Reverend Roberson’s faith in God, his unbelievable people
skills, and his ministerial leadership. They had plenty to talk
about because the Reverend was also interested in politics.
Once my father became governor he asked Reverend
Roberson if he was willing to assume the difficult task of
serving as Chaplain at the Main Prison which housed Death
Row. The Chaplain’s public service saved hundreds of souls
who otherwise would have been lost. He earned the respect
of everyone at Main Prison—from the rank and file, to the
condemned—all the way up to the Warden.
The rest of the Chaplain’s story is skillfully told in this
book: how Marshall was influenced throughout his life
by events beyond his control. He never wavered from his
love of the Lord and his total commitment to serve his
fellow man.
The lives of the Governor and the Chaplain became
entwined. They remained close friends until my father’s
tragic death in a car accident when he was only forty-nine
years old.
Ironically, the sons of these men also became extremely
close friends. When I was elected to the Public Service
Commission at the age of 29, because I was young and
inexperienced I wanted to surround myself with the best
staff members, not only those with the best qualifications
but also those with a true passion to serve the public. So,
naturally I recruited Eddie Roberson as a utility investigator.
He had an outstanding career where he worked his way
up, becoming the Chairman of the Tennessee Regulatory
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Authority. Not many people can prove themselves worthy
of that kind of career advancement.
Now this book proves Eddie is also an excellent writer.
When you read Reverend Roberson’s remarkable life story
it is clear he never lost his compassion for those downtrodden
and imprisoned. He was later appointed to the Pardon and
Parole Board where he distinguished himself as the only
non-lawyer and the only member who had witnessed prison
life from the inside. Roberson walked among the inmates
and he saw their humanity, not just their crime.
In his retirement, now age 91, his voice is strong and his
mind is alert. He devotes himself to his wonderful family,
who I know personally. He is still serving our Almighty God
in every way possible. I love you Marshall Roberson, and
your entire family. Let this work urge all of us to write down
our family history as a lasting legacy.
Thank you, Eddie, for writing this book about your
dear father and for encouraging others to follow our Lord’s
commandment to serve the least of these.
Bob Clement
Former Member of Congress
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Preface
W
hen Reverend Marshall Roberson accepted the call
of God for his life as a young man in the early 1940s,
he never dreamed of what God had in store for him. The son
of a well-respected barber in Cleveland, Tennessee, he could
have never imagined one day becoming a personal friend to
that state’s governor or being appointed by the governor as
Chaplain of the State Prison. One of the most difficult tasks
Marshall performed as prison chaplain was to counsel men
facing the electric chair. Each time he counseled and prayed
with death row inmates, he was reminded of a dark family
secret—the execution of his favorite uncle in the State of
Georgia for murder.
The court had set June 15, 1959, as the execution date
for Thomas Rutledge, who had been convicted of murder in
Warren County, Tennessee, and who was sentenced by a jury
to be executed in the electric chair. Rutledge’s last hope was
that Tennessee Governor Frank Clement would spare his life
by commuting his sentence to life in prison. It was well known
that Clement opposed capital punishment, even though he had
carried out his constitutional duty six times as governor.
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As the date of the execution approached, the governor
pored over the court records of the Rutledge case, making
sure there had been no miscarriage of justice. He could
find none. He concluded that Rutledge had received a fair
trial and a jury of his peers had properly judged him for his
horrible crime. Then Clement’s office called prison chaplain
Reverend Marshall Roberson and requested that he meet
the governor at the prison for a meeting with Rutledge.
Roberson, a week shy of his thirty-eighth birthday, was a
young Church of God minister in Nashville who had become
a close friend to Clement since his first election as governor
in 1952. Roberson’s general role as chaplain was to provide
spiritual guidance to the inmate population at the main state
prison in Nashville. This role included spiritual counseling
for death row inmates. Most inmates were appreciative
and open to Marshall’s prison ministry. For weeks before
the execution was carried out, Roberson met with the
condemned in a cramped cell on the “Green Mile,” as it was
called, just steps away from the execution chamber.1 Often
the condemned reached out to Roberson and told him the
details of their crimes and of their remorse. In these intimate
and private conversations, which Roberson kept confidential
unless otherwise released by the inmate to tell, he developed
a close relationship with some of the prisoners.2 He also had
the difficult responsibility to pray right before an execution
1
The reference to the “Green Mile” was popularized by a movie
starring Tom Hanks in an adaptation of the book written by Stephen
King in 1996. The movie was shot on location at the Tennessee
Main Prison where Tennessee executions were carried out.
2
The story of Thomas Rutledge was recounted by
Reverend Max Morris, who was associate pastor to Roberson
at Meridian Street Church of God in Nashville and assisted
him in his prison ministry. Morris accompanied Roberson
when he visited Rutledge just prior to his execution.
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was carried out. His words were the last words the inmate
heard before meeting his Maker. All was quiet with the
exception of the heavy breathing of the condemned when
Roberson said amen to this final prayer. However, just prior
to saying amen, Roberson would step farther away from the
electric chair, for his amen was the signal for the executioner
to pull the switch. The air suddenly became charged with the
loud hum of the energy as it made its way to the chair. The
inmate’s body became rigid and strained the leather straps
holding him in the chair. Within seconds, it was over, and
dead silence filled the room. The heavy breathing stopped.
Roberson had already witnessed five executions as state
prison chaplain when he received the call to meet with the
governor at Rutledge’s death row cell.
When word came from Clement’s office, Roberson
knew why. He knew of the emotional stress and moral
struggle that Clement endured with each execution and
of the governor’s practice of making a final visit with the
condemned. Clement always called on the young chaplain
to accompany him at each meeting.
There was no discussion between the governor and
Roberson as they walked toward Rutledge’s cell. The
seriousness and finality of the meeting preempted small
talk. Rutledge was standing as the pair reached the cell.
Attentive and hopeful, Rutledge listened as Clement
informed him that he had reviewed the court record and
could find no errors that would justify commuting the
sentence of death. The governor then solemnly declared,
“On June 15, 1959, prepare to meet your God.”
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This story is about the life of that prison chaplain, Marshall
Roberson. It chronicles his life from childhood and the
traumatic execution of his Uncle Homer Simpson for murder
in Georgia; to Roberson’s experiences as a young pastor; to his
meeting and long-time friendship with Tennessee Governor
Frank Clement; to his witnessing of seven executions as prison
chaplain; to his service on the State Pardon and Parole Board;
through the years where he experienced the pain of loss of
loved ones; and finally to his life in the “fourth quarter” as
he turned ninety years old. It is the story of an ordinary man
called by God to do extraordinary things and to minister to
all men, from the governor to condemned convicts. Above all,
this book is the story of a man’s faithfulness to God. He stayed
true to his calling as a minister of God.
Fellow Tennessean Alex Haley reminds us all that every
family has heroic stories of courage and struggle that need
to be recorded for posterity. Through these stories, the
character of the family is shaped and defined. Unfortunately,
so many inspirational stories are lost to future generations
with the interments of grandparents and parents upon the
barren hills of distant graveyards. Too often, these stories
are lost in time, forgotten by the next generation.
As I have studied history, I have come to the conclusion
that great men and women are not only those who achieve
acclaim in government or business. Too often we dismiss the
quiet success of lesser known individuals whose exemplary
lives and selfless sacrifices mold society. It is my hope that
this book inspires others to seek out those heroic stories
of their own and record them before they are lost forever.
Society will be richer by coming to know the powerful,
moving stories of the not-too-famous.
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