The True Story Behind the Movie I am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang

I am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang is one of the ten greatest American movies of all time, an early talkie that is as gritty as any prison movie ever made. The legion of those who have put I am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang near the top of their own choices for the best that Hollywood has ever produced, aside from me, range from Martin Scorsese to Matt Groening. In fact, when Matt Groening was invited to be guest programmer on Turner Classic Movies, this was one of the films he chose to showcase. What makes I am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang stand out from such later and lesser chain gang movies as Cool Hand Luke is that it was not only based on a true story, but that the real life story had the effect of changing how the American penal system was executed. In the film, Paul Muni plays a wrongly convicted and systematically persecuted man named James Allen, but the real prisoner upon whom this chilling film was based was named Robert Burns. Of course, the movie was forced to make many changes, including never mentioning that the state that had persecuted him was Georgia.

Like the Muni character in the film, Robert Burns was a veteran of World War I. And, as in the film, Burns faced hard times upon his return from the battlefields of Europe. The primary difference between the film and real life is not one that is unimportant: Burns actually did engage in the robbery for which he was arrested and convicted. Nevertheless, in a case of judicial overkill, he was sentenced to hard time on a chain gang for the larceny of a mere $5.29. This at a time when men like John D. Rockefeller were robbing people blind and making the equivalent of billions in today's inflated economy. Secure in the knowledge given him by fellow prisoners that there were only two real ways out of the prison camp, death and escape, Burns wisely chose the latter. For ten years he laid low and worked hard, ultimately securing a nice $20,000 salary as magazine editor in Chi-town. Things looked mighty fine until one day Georgia authorities caught up with Burns. The deal was probably too good to be true, but Burns was at heart an upstanding individual willing to play the game despite how much it was fixed to his disadvantage. Georgia had offered a deal: he would return to Georgia voluntarily and quietly, stand before a judge and admit his guilt, and then receive a pardon. One can well imagine that Georgia would renege on this deal immediately had Robert Burns been a black man, successful or otherwise. It was perhaps a bit more shocking for a white-collar, and white-skinned, success like Robert Burns to be tossed back onto the chain gang.

Back in Burns' home state of New Jersey, his clergyman brother decided to make a federal case of things. The result was to be a hearing held in the office of the Governor of Georgia, no less, but before that hearing could take place, Burns had incredibly once again escaped. He changed his name and wrote some articles that eventually were published in a book. That book became the basis for I am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang. The film was banned in Georgia, but exploded across it all the same. Outraged that their disgusting torture tactics had been exposed, the state of Georgia demanded that Burns be extradited from New Jersey and serve out his full sentence. Another hearing was convened, this time before the Governor of New Jersey, and heading up Burns' defense was perhaps the single most famous lawyer of the 20^th century, Clarence Darrow. Governors from many other non-southern states had written petitions on behalf of Burns, and hundreds of thousands of common folk had signed petitions as well. The trial backfired on the cracker regime running things in Confederacyville, exposing all the most indefensible kinds of tactics that today people like Alberto Gonzales and Michael Mukasey would give a non-denial denial when asked if they were torture. The Governor of New Jersey flatly refused to extradite Burns back, but that was hardly enough to stop Georgia's biggest and dumbest from trying. Georgia sent a telegram to the Burns' local police chief demanding that he arrest Burns and send him back; the man tore the telegram to pieces. In 1941, nearly twenty years after his theft of the $5.29, newly inaugurated Georgia Governor Eugene Talmadge tried once again to convince New Jersey authorities to extradite Burns. Again, they were politely refused. Finally, in 1945, Robert Burns long nightmare came to an end. Played out like a melodrama from another Hollywood movie, Burns appeared before another Georgia Governor, Ellis Arnall, the man who had finally put an end to Georgia's chain gang prison system. The hearing took place at the State House in Atlanta and Burns' original sentenced was commuted to time served. He died ten years later.