The Key West Citizen Newspaper, April 12, 1940, Page 4

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PAGE FOUR itt KEY WEST CITIZEN . a FRIDAY, APRIL 12, 1940 Abraham Lincoln Comes Home ||[Seventy-Five Years Ago This Month = || — The Whole World Was in Mourning for se Reg mereeeie i it it the oth HEN Adri natal ee over at the other Seventy-five years azo Abraham Lincoln, first martyred President of the United States, was brought back to Hlinois, the state which had sent him to the nation’s capital four years before. These pictures, pertaining to that sorrowful | journey, were made by Ira M. Hough, a leading photographer in Chicago during the Civil war period and the early seventies. They were found about a year ago by his son, Edward O. Hough, in an old trunk that had not been opened | for many yeurs. They are, published here (some of them for the first time in any newspaper) by courtely of Fred- | erick Gillespie, author of | Trailsvand Shrines of Abraham Lincoln,” who, owns the original negatives. one f On a May morning in 1865 cabinet members, generals of the Union army and statesmen of high and low degree gathered at the home of Abraham Lincoln at Eighth ard Jackson streets in Springfield, Tit., to await | there the arrival of the funeral cortege bearing the body of the Great Emancipator. (Photo by Edward Hough). In this black-plumed hearse the body of Abraham Lincoln was berne through the streets of Chicago before being taken to Springfield. There a | Similar vehicle, drawn by six black horses and followed by ‘‘Old Bob,” his favorite horse, riderless, bore him to Oak Ridge cemetery. (Photo by Hough) : ts , : rales is el ‘ Out to Oak Ridge cemetery on the morning of May 4 moved the funeral procession, There the doors of a receiving vault stood open—“Unveil Thy Bosom, Faithful Tomb” chanted a tearful choir. and dust to dust . . .” intoned a clergyman, ‘standing on the speakers’ platform (at the left of the tomb). Then the body of Illinois’ great son was laid to rest in this temporary vault. (Photo by Edward Hough). “Ashés to ashes On April 10, 1865, Alexander Gard- a Washington photographer, took this picture—the last phote. graph ever made of Lincoln. “STOP THAT MAN!”—John Wilkes Booth flees across the stage of Ford’s theater in Washin; H after firing the shot which ended the life of Abraham Lincoln, (From a drawing which easton’ i Harper’s Weekly, April 29, 1865). By ELMO SCOTT WATSON (Released by Western Newspaper Wawa: T IS the evening of April 14, 1865—Good Friday. ee | | On the stage of Ford’s theater in Washington the fa- mous actress, Laura Keene, is playing in a delightful com- edy, “Our American Cousin.” Joining in the laughter that sweeps through the audience from time to time is a gaunt, | sad-faced man sitting at ease #.in a high-backed, satin-up- | holstered rocking chair in an | upper stage box... Abraham |Lincoln is forgetting for a | few minutes the crushing re- sponsibilities which he, as | Chief Executive of a nation | torn asunder in civil war, has }been bearing for four long years. ~ | The third act ‘of the play ‘begins. The President leans | over to whisper something to | Mrs. Lincoln who sits beside ‘him. Neither the Lincolns |nor Maj. Harry R. Rathbone and a Miss Harris, who accom- panied them to the theater, notice |that a dark-moustached young | man has slipped through the door at the rear of the box and is now standing behind the President. } The next moment there is the muffled sound of a shot. It is | unnoticed by the players on the stage or the audience, still chuck- ling over the last funny line they have heard. But the President’s head drops forward on his breast. Startled, Major Rathbone looks around, .Through the smoke he es the dark young man with a ) pistol in his hand and hears him \mutter something which sounds like “‘Freedom!’’ Thé major leaps to his feet and grapples with the }| intrader, who slasheg. at him ‘with | a knife, tears loose from the’ off- cer’s grasp and springs to tne | tront of the box. As he vaults over the railing, his spur catches in an American fag which drapes the front of the box. He drops heavily to the | stage with one leg doubled under | him, then scrambles to his feet. | With blood streaming from his wounded arms, Rathbone rushes to the front of the box. | Stop that man! Stop him!” he shouts. “The President has been shot!” i | But everyone is too stunnéd to | move for a moment. The young | man, waving aloft the bloody knife, drags himself across the stage and disappears in the wings. But before he does so, | the startled actors recognize in | the white face and the black eyes | blazing with fanatical hatred thé | familiar features of one of their || own profession — John | Wilkes Booth. |All this has taken place in less } | time than it ‘takes to tell it. The |:next moment cho theater is a pandemonium screaming women and shouting men, shov- ing, pushing, breaking chairs, crashing through railings and | trampling upon each other as they surge toward the stage or try to climb up to the box where the moaning Mrs. Lincoln is support- IN SPRINGFIELD—Outside the, old Globe tavern,. ham Lincoln and Mary Todd spent their honeymoon, the martyred President’s cabinet and other dignitaries awaited the | arrival of the funeral train in Lincoln’s home town. | the milling crowd. Their hoarse shouts of “Clear out! Clear out, you sons of hell!’ rise above the tumult as they drive the half- crazed audience out of the the- ater. Meanwhile Rathbone has suc- ceeded in unbarring the door to the box and several people, among them a surgeon, rush in. They see the tall form of the President slumped forward in his chair, his sad eyes closed, never to open again. Someone brings a shutter, torn from a building near by, and they lay his gaunt form upon it. They carry him out of the theater to the house of Charles Peterson across the street. Ford’s theater is empty, de- serted now. Its curtain has been rung down upon the comedy, “Our American Cousin” — and upon one of the greatest trage- dies in American history: Death at 7:22) As Mi. The next-morning. Washington newspapers carried this’ story? “The body of President. Lin- goin, who died from an assassin’s bullet at 7:2zZ o'clock this morn- ing, was removed from the Peter- son residence opposite Ford’s the- ¢ to the exécutive mansion in a hearse and wrapped in the American flag. It was escorted by a small squad of cavalry and by Gen. Augur and other military officials on foot. A dense crowd accompanied the remains to the White House, where a military guard excluded the people; allow- ing none but persons of the house- hold and personal friends of the deceased to enter. Gen. Grant arrived here at 2 o’clock in a spe- cial train from Philadelphia. His presence tends somewhat to allay the excitement.” Leaf through the pages of James G. Blaine’s “Twenty Years in Tig lished in 1886, and description of the | 2ist the body was removed from: ‘| the capitol. and placed on seemed relie She beckoned to Ann and they went into the | apartment, together. I tried to take a nap, The short rations and lack of sleep hadn’t improved my looks. I don’t stant up very. well under excitement. There were dark shadows under my eyes and I looked pretty drawn around the mouth. With Mr. Whitefield and Louise Lathrop both in the hospital and Norton arding the house, I felt as though ere was nothing to fear—at least, for the present. I was mistaken. For about half an hour I dozed and then sat up quickly, wakened | by anoise. It seemed to come from Richard’s apartment overhead. | There were footsteps somewhere upstairs and then a heavy thud as though something or someone had fallen. My breath was coming in quick, short gasps. I slipped into my -frock and opened the door to the hall. The house was quiet except for the | murmur of voices from the front | apartment. Evidently they’d heard nothing. So perhaps I'd imagined | the sounds. Nevertheléss I decided to go upstairs and investigate. All of the doors were closed on the third floor and the hall was dark and shadowy. I tried the door to Richard’s apartment, but it was | locked, and I pressed my ear to the keyhole, but couldn’t hear anyone % | inside. The artist’s apartment was un- locked, but after a hasty search I could see nothing out of the way except that his water colors were the toy store variety for children, and his heavy blue overcoat was there, thrown over a chair. That left only Mrs. Evans’ apart- ment up in the attic. I went up the short flight of stairs and knocked _ | at the door lightly, thinking she might be in, but there was no an- swer. Then I thought I heard James whine. 1 tried the door. It was unlocked, I pushed it open a = | couple of inches and peered cau- | tiously in the room. The blinds | were drawn and the light was so dim it was difficult to see. Evidently Mrs, Evans was out | working, so I thought it would be all right to investigate a little fur- | ther. I tried to push the door open, | but it stuck. I pushed a_ little ing military and civic procession, was transferred to the rotunda of | the Capitol, ° u 1 | “The ‘day was observed | throughott the Union as. one of fasting and prayer. Services in the churches throughout the land were held in unison with the serv- ices at the executive mansion, and were everywhere attended | with exhibition of profound per- sonal grief. The South in Sorrow. “In all the cities of Canada business was suspended, public meetings of condolence with a kindred people were held, and prayers were read in the churches. “Throughout the Confederate | states, where war had ceased but | peace had not yet come, the peo ple joined: in significant expres- sions of sorrow over the death of hint whose very name they had. been: taught to. execrate, “Early in the morning of the | funeral car which was to bee oPesting place e train which moved from the national pid gi was attended on its course extraordinary manifestations of grief on the part of the people.” As for the story of that sorrow- harder, then forced mysélf into the room to seé what kept it from opening. James was lying in the ‘middle | of the room. He whined when I | came in and tried to get to his feet, | but sank back on the floor with a whimper. And then I looked behind the door. On the floor I saw a figure, a body with arms thrown out, sprawled there lifelessly. It was Mrs, Evans, Sereams MUST have screamed. Yet the sounds that I heard seemed to come from far off, from another person. I clutched at the door, I know, and tried tp get out of the room. And then I must have screamed again, because I heard footsteps, then Dirck telling me that it was all right, and, taking me by the arm, fe led me into the hail, Going down the stairway I was dimly conscious that Adrianne and Mary Ann were standing in the hall. Then Norton rushed up the stairway with Mr. Kimball and Ishi. But their faces made no defi- nite impression. It seemed like a dream. IT stumbled into my room and Dirck made me lie down while he ran down to the shop for Mr. Kim- ball’s brandy. And after I drank it, he called Mary Ann to sit with me while he went upstairs. We didn't even talk while he was fone, and by the time he got back the, dita up and feeling more But Dirck was very much upset. He closed the door and stood there, leaning against it. “Mrs. ‘Exans ‘wasn’t murdered,” he said. ey think it was a heart attack.” I swallowed. “She's deatl, though?” He nodded. “Chris,” he said, his ful journey westward, no one has | voice quiet, yet terribly convine- ever told it better than Carl Sand- burg, poet and Lincoln biogra- pher. The closing words of his masterpiece “Abraham Lincoln: The War Years,” (published this year by Harcourt, Brace and company) — words whose stark simplicity remind one of such | the writings as the Gettysburg Ad- dress—are these: “There was a funeral. “Tt took long to pass its many | given points. “Many millions of people saw ing, “I know who caused it, but I can’t pin it on the person without proof. She wasn’t murdered, but someone hit James. He must have been knocked unconscious. only ...” He jerked his head up. Then without another word he rushed out of the room and down stairs, leaving Ann and me jing at each 4 bes e's clear of this,” she “Why, what happened?” And then she told me about Whitefield. He was still in the hos- pital and he was under arrest and far couldn’t pin the mur- But he was a fence America’s First Martyred President] Naess co siet| isi cae ang ms said. He sat down on the stool by the fi replace. : “Which wasn’t?” I asked, a lit- tle tired. ichard.” ary Ann_ stood slowly. “How do you know that?” “The autopsy. There’s a contu- sion on the side of his head that didn’t come from falling out of the window. It came from a blow, a blunt instrument.” Then he leaped off the stool. “Sit bn a2 he called. “I'll be back.” had no intention of ever get- ting up again. The last shock seemed to have left my legs per- manently weakened. We could hear him run upstairs, and this time he went to Rich- ard’s apartment. The Sergeant, I Sougay must have given him keys to all of the apartments. Dirck didn’t come back for al- most an hour. We waited. It was pretty awful. Mary Ann and I gave up any pretense at conversation. We just sat there and smoked one cigarette after another. And I tried to figure out just what connection she'd had with Joan and Richard. Then finally Dirck came back in ain. “I believe I've found that blunt instrument,” he said as he sank into a chair. “Richard had a air of heavy brass candlesticks. ie is marked with his own and Sarah's fingerprints, but the other has been wiped clean. The Ser- geant let Norton help me. I think it’s pretty important.” ‘Dangerous Game’ MAEY ANN'S face was white, ' “Is that what killed him?” she whispered. Dirck nodded. “They are pretty sure it did. The rest of it was just a cover.” I bit my lip. “Then he was—he was thrown out of the window?” “Yes,” Dirck said quietly, his blue eyes on mine reassuringly. “And the same person who did that frightened Mrs. Evans to death.” Sometime during that night while we were sleeping the body of that boy had gone hurtling past my window. It seemed more than I could bear, There was no use being. melodramatic about the thin, that had happened. I'd tried to avoid that, but now it seemed a little too much for me, With a shiver I buried my face in my hands, trying to get that horrible picture out of my mind. Somehow Richard's death seemed worse than Joan’s, I suppose it was because we'd become fairly well acquainted with him, heise Mary Ann gasped. “I’m so giad.” T looked up and Dirck was eye- ing her strangely. “It was worry- ing. you?” : he nodded. I hadn't the slight- st idea what either of them were driving at. ‘Then Mary Ann got up and walked to the window. “I thought it was my fault, I thought he’d committed suicide on account of me” “Skip it,” Dirck said in a hard voice. “You played a pretty dan- serous game, but you have the ergeant buffaloed and no one else knows about it. I'd keep out of his apartment, though. He hasn't any- thing valuable up there.” He got up again. “I must see Mr. Kimball now.” Mary Ann followed him out of the room, leaving me, as usual, without the remotest idea of what was going on. I was very glad to be alone for awhile. I took a hot shower and dressed slowly, won- dering al] the while what would happen next. I had just finished dressing when a knock sounded at the door and Dirck rushed in again, still very much excited, _ “In a few minutes everyone will come in here,” he said. I was annoyed. “Why doesn’t the Sergeant rent a hall?” : “Steady there, Chris,” he said. “This is important. You don’t mind, really, do you? This room is the largest. I’ve asked all of the people in the house to meet here.” “I’m delighted,” I snapped. But he paid no attention to me and left again, turning up about five minutes later followed by the entire household, or what re- mained of it. They came in like sheep, herding together uneasily. These inquisitions were getting tiresome. I didn’t think I could stand up under another one. Dirck was the only one who seemed to If| have any energy left. He walked around, drawing up chairs, his eyes darting about the room. Mary Ann and Adrianne seated themselves on the couch with James who had followed them in. He was whimpering dismally. When Sarah came in, she he! him on her lap. “Who's going to look after him now?” she asked in a loud whisper. Everyone shivered and no one answered her. Pe] Kimball took the ing her stricken husband and Ma- “Néw Salem near- +. jof any stolen property must ex- jor Rathbone is trying vainly to Sir of At |eced $20; otherwise it's a case of open the door which the assassin larceny. - had barred from the inside. 92 (By Associated Press) The quirk in the Colorado law : ‘ Now the soldiers of Presi- PUEBLO, Colo., April 12—/'was uncovered recently after of- : Sas SGA dent’s guard come bursting into Stealing chickens is a case officers solved a chicken stealing coin noite body of Abraham Lin-| “Rest in Peace, Noble Soul, Patriot Heart,” “We Honor Him Dead | ‘he theater and with fixed bayonets grand larceny in Colorado, re-'case by following a trail of coe Bans, tis memorial tomb in | Who Honored Us While Living” and ‘‘Faithfal to Right, a Martyr (| 2nd_drawn pistols they charge te a |gardless of the value of the poul- }feathers from coop to loot. a ~ ee beagge sie in Springfield, | Justice” read the inscriptions on this memorial arch erected in Park Row in z — ae : bey ‘thi fc Se Chicago. Beneath it was a dais where the coffitt Iay during the briéf céte- ae e thievery -| New York Ci is fe j Saigage, Bewoem i way a dai were the cot lay during the Uriel cbt SUBSCRIBE FOR THE CITIZEN—20e WEEKLY. __| the thievery takes place in day- ity has 403 public

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