[May 5, 1886]
A Hellish Deed
A Dynamite Bomb
Thrown Into a Crowd of Policemen
It explodes and
covers the street with dead and mutilated officers –A storm of bullets
follows- The police return the fire and
wound a number of rioters- Harrowing scenes at the Desplaines Street
Station- A
night of terror.
A dynamite
bomb thrown into a squad of policemen sent to disperse a mob at the
corner of
Desplaines and Randolph streets last night exploded with terrific
force,
killing and injuring nearly fifty men.
The following is a partial list of the dead and wounded
policemen:
JOSEPH
DEAGAN, West Lake Street Station; fell dead in front of the Desplaines
Street
Station, in the arms of Detective John McDonald. He
had sufficient vitality to walk from the
scene of the shooting to the spot where he expired.
LIEUT.
JAMES STANTON, West Lake Street Station, shot in both legs; not badly
hurt.
JACOB
HANSEN, West Lake Street Station, shot in both legs.
THOMAS
SHANNON, Desplaines Street Station, shot in foot, leg, and arms;
married and
has three children. Lives at No. 24 Mather Street.
JOHN K.
MCMAHON, West Chicago
Avenue,
shot in thigh and calf of right leg.
Married, and has three children; lives at No. 118 North Green Street.
JOHN B.
DOYLE, Desplaines street,
bomb wounds in leg, knee, and back.
Married, and as one child; lives at No. 142 ½ Jackson street.
TIMOTHY
FLAVIN, Rawson Street Station, shot in leg, resides at station, married.
JOHN H.
KING, Desplaines Street Station, bomb wound in neck, feet, and arms.
JAMES PLUNKETT,
Desplaines Street Station, shot in the hand.
EDWARD
BARRETT, West Chicago
Avenue,
shot in knee and ankle, has wife and six children, lives at No. 297 West Ohio Street.
J. SIMONS, West
Chicago Avenue,
shot in side; wife and two children; lives at No. 241 West Huron street.
A. C.
KELLER, Desplaines Street Station, shot in side; lives at No. 36 Greenwich Street.
L. J.
MURPHY, Desplaines Street,
shot in neck and hand; foot hurt by bomb; married; lives at 317 ½ Fulton Street.
T.
BUSTERLY, West Lake Street,
shot in hand, wife and one child, lives at No. 436 West Twelfth Street.
H. T.
SMITH, Desplaines Street,
shot in the right ankle, single, lives at No. 36 Keith Street.
ARTHUR
CONLEY, Desplaines street, bullet wound in leg and right shoulder, and
bomb
wound on right leg, maimed; lives at No.
318 West Harrison street.
C. WHITNEY,
West Lake Street,
wounded in the breast by a bomb, maimed; lives at No. 43 South Robey Street.
J.H.
WILSON, Central detail, wounded by bomb in groin, shot in left hand,
wife and
five children lives at No.
810 Austin Avenue.
J. NORMAN,
West Lake street,
bullet wound in left hand, has fie and two children, lives at 612 Walnut street.
JOHN
BARRETT, Desplaines street,
shot in elbow, bomb wound in left side, married, lives at No. 199 Erie street.
MICHAEL
HORNE, Desplaines street,
shot in leg.
T.
HENNESSEY, West Lake street, wound in
head and right thing, married, lives at No. 287 Fulton street.
JOHN R.
KING, Desplaines street,
shot in leg, bomb wound in groin.
H.N. KRUGER,
West Chicago Avenue,
shot in leg; wife and two children, No. 184 Ramsey Street.
CHARLES
FINK, West Lake Street,
bomb wound in three places in right leg, married, lives at No. 124 Sangamon Street.
LEWIS
JOHNSON, Desplaines street,
shot in right leg, wife and four children, No. 40 West Erie street.
A.
HELVERSON,
West North Avenue,
shot in both legs, single.
C.
JOHNSON,
West Chicago Avenue,
bomb wound in leg, married.
S. ELIDZIO,
West Chicago
Avenue,
bullet wound in left hand, married, No. 158 Cornell Street.
T. EBINGER,
Central detail, shot in hand, wife and three children, No. 235 Thirty-Seventh Street.
M. O’BRIEN,
Central detail, shot in leg, wife and three children, No. 491 Fifth Avenue.
T. BROPHY, West
Lake Street,
shot in hand, married, No.
35 Nixon Street.
T. B.
MCMAHON, West Chicago
Avenue,
shot in thigh and calf, wife and three children, No. 118 Green Street.
D. HOGAN,
Central detail, shot in right leg, wife and two children, no. 526 Austin Avenue.
M. CONDON, Desplaines
street,
three bomb wounds in legs, wife and one child.
PETER
MCCORMICK, West Chicago Avenue Station, shot in arm, lives at No. 473 West Erie Street.
OFFICER
ONEILS HANSON of the West North Avenue Station, seven shots. One severe one in right thigh, one in lower
part of same limb, one in the back near the lower ribs, one in the left elbow, one in each knee, and one
in the left ankle. All of the wounds
were ragged and were apparently fired from a shotgun.
Drs. J. W. Propeck and A. K. Smith are
inclined to think his wounds are serious, but not necessarily fatal.
OFFICER
JOSEPH GILSO of the West Chicago Avenue Station, bullet wounds in the
right
shoulder and one in the right leg, neither of which is serious.
JAMES O’DAY
of the Desplaines Street Station shot in the knee seriously. He was removed to his home on Carroll Avenue,
near Robey Street.
An Incendiary Speech
The
following circular was distributed yesterday afternoon:
ATTENTION,
WORKINGMEN!
GREAT
MASS-MEETING
Tonight,
at 7:30 o’clock
At the
HAYMARKET,
RANDOLPH STREET,
BETWEEN
DESPLAINES AND HALSTED.
Good
speakers will be
present to denounce the latest atrocious act of the police—the shooting
of our
fellow-workmen yesterday afternoon.
THE
EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE
In response
to this about 1,500 people gathered, but a shower dispersed all but 600. Several speeches had been made of a more or
less rabid character when Sam Fielden, the Socialist, put in an
appearance.
“The
Socialists,” he said, “are not going to declare war; but I tell you war
has
been declared upon us; and I ask you to get hold of anything that will
help to
resist the onslaught of the enemy and the usurper.
The skirmish-lines have met. People
have been shot. Men, women, and children
have not been spared
by the ruthless minions of private capital.
It had no mercy. So ought you.
You are called upon to defend yourselves, your lies, your future. What matters it whether you kill yourselves
with work to get a little relief or die on the battle-field resisting
the
enemy? [Applause.] What
is the difference? Any animal, however
loathsome, will resist
when stepped upon. Are men less than
snails or worms? I have some resistance
in me. I know that you have too. You have been robbed. You
will be starved into a worse condition.”
At this point
those on the outskirts of the crowd whispered “Police,” and many of
them
hastened to the corner of Randolph
Street. Six
or eight companies of police, commanded by Inspector Bonfield, marched
rapidly
past the corner. Fielden saw them coming
and stopped talking. When at the edge of
the crowd Inspector Bonfield said in a loud voice:
“in the name of the law I command you to
disperse.” The reply was a bomb, which
exploded as soon as it struck. The first
company of police answered with a volley right into the crowd, who
scattered in
all directions.
Hell for a minute
Fielden had
just started speaking when part of the crowd, scenting danger, left. Numerous detectives mingled with the mob
surrounding the wagon used as a speakers’ stand. A
stiff breeze came up from the north and
anticipating rain, more of the crowd left, the worst element, however,
remaining. In a few minutes the police
from the Desplaines Street
station, marching abreast the breadth of Desplaines street, approached. A space of about two feet intervened between
each line and they marched silently, so that they were upon the mob
almost
before the latter knew it. The
glittering stars were no sooner seen than a large bomb was thrown into
the
midst of the police. The explosion shook
the buildings in the vicinity, and played terrible havoc among the
police. It demoralized them, and the
Anarchists and
rioters poured in a shower of bullets before the first action of the
police was
taken. Then the air overhead the
fighting mass was a blaze of flashing fire.
At the discharge of the bomb the bystanders on the sidewalk fled
for
their lives, and numbers were trampled upon in the mad haste of the
crowd to
get away. The groans of those hit could
be heard above the rattle of the revolvers.
In two minutes the ground was strewn with wounded men. Then the shots straggled, and shortly after
all was quiet, and the police were masters of the situation.
What Another Reporter Saw.
Fielden was
apparently about winding up his address when a dark line was seen to
form north
of Randolph street
and in front of the Desplaines Street Station.
For some time no attention was paid to it, but it gradually
moved north,
and the stars and buttons on the uniforms of a squad of policemen were
seen
glittering. The officers marched three
deep, occupying the whole width of the roadway, but leaving the
sidewalks
clear. Their forms were plainly visible
as they approached, for the electric lights in front of the Lyceum
Theatre set
them off so as to form a good mark for the rioters.
As the line approached a cry arose in the
crowd: “the police! The police!” and the
south end of the crowd began to divide towards the sidewalk and walk
south to Randolph Street. But the wagon in front of the Crane Bros.
Manufacturing Company was not vacated by the speaker and the other
“leaders.” Fielden continued speaking,
raising his voice more and more as the police approached.
There was no warning given. The
crowd was rapidly dispersing. The police,
marching slowly, were in a line
with the east and west alley when something like a miniature rocket
suddenly
rose out of the crowd on the east sidewalk, in a line with the police. It rose about twenty feet in the air,
describing a curve, and fell right in the middle of the street and
among the
marching police. It gave a red glare
while in the air. The bomb lay on the
ground a few seconds, then a loud explosion occurred, and the crowd
took to
their heels, scattering in all directions.
Immediately after the explosion the police pulled their
revolvers and
fired on the crowd. An incessant fire
was kept up for nearly two minutes, and at least 250 shots were fired. The air was filled with bullets.
The crowd ran up the streets and alleys and
were fired on by the now thoroughly enraged police.
Then a lull followed. Many of the
crowd had taken refuge in the
halls or entrances of houses and in saloons. As the firing ceased they
ventured
forth, and a few officers opened fire on them.
A dozen more shots were fired and then it cease entirely. The patrol-wagons that had stopped just south
of Randolph Street
were called up, and the work of looking for the dead and wounded began. The police separated into two columns and
scoured the block north to Lake
Street
and south to Randolph. When the firing had stopped the air was filled
with groans and shrieks. “O God! I’m shot, “Please take me home,” “Take
me to
the hospital, “and similar entreaties were heard all over within a
radius of a
block of the field of battle. Men were
seen limping into drug-stores and saloons or crawling on their hands,
their
legs being disabled. Others tottered
along the street like drunken men, holding their hands to their heads
and
calling for help to take them home. The
open doorways and saloons in the immediate vicinity were crowded with
men. Some jumped over tables and chairs,
barricading themselves behind them; others crouched behind the walls,
counters,
doorways, and empty barrels. For a few
minutes after the shooting nobody ventured out on the street. The dynamite shell did terrible execution
among the police. About one-half of
those wounded were picked up in the middle of the street where the
explosion
had occurred. The first to receive
attention after the crowd was effectually dispersed were the wounded
officers. They were taken to the
Desplaines
Street Station.
Reinforcements of Officers Arrive and Disperse the Mob-
More Shots
Fired.
After the
explosion crowds of excited people assembled on Desplaines, Washington,
and Randolph
streets, and, with bated breath and compressed lips, talked over the
wholesale
murder committed by the Anarchists.
Hardly a man spoke above a whisper, fearing to identify himself
either
with the Anarchistic fiends or the law-abiding citizens, as an
expression
either way meant a broken head and perhaps death. The
big bell in the police station tower
tolled out a riot alarm, while the telegrapher sent dispatches to other
stations calling for aid. Ten minutes
later, patrol wagons were dashing toward the scene of the riot from all
directions bringing stalwart policemen.
The mob shouted wildly as the wagons dashed by, and several
missiles
were thrown, all of which missed the bluecoats on the wagons. The Anarchists slunk back as a large company
of policemen on foot marched down Desplaines street, their faces
white with determination and
their hands on their revolvers ready to shoot to kill at their
commanding
officer’s order. This company of police
marched in front of the station while the dead and dying were being
carried in. Several times the mob advanced
with wild
shouts from the north, but they were kept back as far as Randolph Street. The Anarchists, led by two wiry-whiskered
foreigners, grew bolder and made several attempts to renew the attack
but the
police held their ground. The wind-bag orators who had harangued the
fire-eaters earlier in the evening were not the leaders after business
began,
but they slunk away and were out of danger.
At 11:30,
the
police made a grand drive at the mob, which was growing larger instead
of diminishing. Blank cartridges were
fired from hundreds of
revolvers in two volleys which set the crowd flying in all directions. The police gave chase as far as the Lyceum
Theatre, firing again, and the crowd, covering Madison Street from curb to curb,
did not
stop running until Halsted
Street
was passed. This fusillade from the
officers practically dispersed the mob, and at 11:45 there were but few people on the
streets near the
station.
After the
rioters had been cleared away Desplaines street looked black
and deserted, save where the
gas-lamps showed blood on the sidewalks and curbstones.
The police had the upper hand at midnight.
The only
citizen wounded whose name could be ascertained was Michael Hahn of No. 157 Eagle Street,
who was shot in the back and leg. He was
carried into a hallway at No.
182 West Madison Street were he lay groaning. He was able to walk to the patrol wagon, in
which he was carried to the County Hospital. He was probably a rioter, but he claimed to
be an unoffending citizen.
This will
give an idea of the locality in which the tragedy occurred:
A Harrowing Spectacle.
The
squad-room at the Desplai8nes Street Station, after the wounded were
carried
in, presented a most harrowing spectacle.
Half a dozen men from whom the blood literally flowed in streams
were
stretched upon the floor, others were laid out on tables and benches,
and
others not so badly wounded were placed in chairs to await with what
patience
they could the assistance of the surgeons.
Mattresses and other bedding were dragged downstairs, and dozens
of
willing hands did their utmost to assuage the pain of the sufferers. Very soon the doctors were busy with needle,
lancet, and probe; priests passed from one wounded man to another,
administering brief consolatory words to some and the sacrament of
extreme
unction to others; officers and volunteer assists went around with
stimulants,
or helped to bind up wounds or held the patient down while the surgeon
was at
work, or carried some of the wounded to the other apartments, or in
some other
way did what could be done to help in easing pain or saving life. Pools of blood formed on the floor, and was
trampled about until almost every foot of space was red and slippery. The groans of the dying men arose above the
heavy shuffling of feet, and to add to the agony the cries of
women—relatives
of officers supposed to have been wounded—could be heard from an outer
room,
beyond which the women were not permitted to enter.
Men who had only got a foot or an arm wounded,
even though the blood poured from it in streams, sat still, claiming no
help in
the face of the greater agony. “O,
Christ! Let me die!” “O, merciful God!” and similar expressions were
continually rung forth as the surgeon’s knife or saw was at work or
when
attempts were made to move those more badly wounded.
The priests in attendance were Fathers
Kearns, Moloney, Kinsella, Hickey, and Walsh, all from St. Patrick’s
and Father
Byrne from St. Jariath’s. The sacrament
of extreme unction was administered to eight of the wounded before they
were
moved from the spot where they had been first laid.
The thirty
beds on the upper floor were not sufficient for even the accommodation
of the
more severely wounded, and several beds had to be made up on the floor. The scene here was as painful as that seen
previously on the floor below. The
doctors were busy dressing wounds until almost 1 a.m. and it was past midnight before the priests
were ready to leave. Basins of blood were
seen at nearly every
bedside, and great clots and blotches bespattered the floor, the
bed-clothing,
and the clothing of those at work as well as of the wounded. Every few minutes, it seemed, a new sufferer
was helped into the room, leaning on the shoulders of this brother
officers,
these later-comers being those who had been slightly wounded,
comparatively
speaking, and who had rested wherever they could until their brothers
were
attended to. Two officers were observed
bandaging up their own wounds—Peter McCormick and Michael Gordon, the
former
wounded in the arm and the latter writhing with a fractured foot—but
never a
moan came from either, each doing what he could for himself until
somebody
volunteered to help. It seems invidious
to select names in this manner where so much heroism was displayed—in
fact, to
obtain the names of the more heroic was impossible in the excitement
and where
each hero was perhaps in the agonies of death.
Among the
doctors who were promptly on the ground and rendered efficient service
were the
following:
Drs. O.T.
Shenick, George W. Reynolds, D. D. Moran, J.C. Bryan, J.M. Fleming,
J.J. Davis,
C.A. Stewart, Murphy, Kerber, and Lee.
One of the
most painful scenes witnessed at the station was the arrival of women
relatives
of injured officers, who raised a most pitiful wail of anguish as soon
as they
entered the door. This was not a
time
for sentiment, however; it would not do
for the wounded men to have wailing women around them and consequently
the
females were firmly and not urgently excluded from the the rooms where
the
sufferers lay, though the stalwart officers who pushed them back did so
with
tears in their eyes.
About
twenty minutes to 1, Nurses Scott, Sheldon, Bushnell, Lock, and Ricks
of the
Illinois Training-School for Nurses arrived at the station with Capt.
McGarigle. They at once offered their
services to dress the wounds. Their
services were gratefully accepted by the doctors and their tender
nursing
deeply appreciated by the sufferers.
The Wounded Rioters and Citizens – A Dead Bohemian
Below
stairs at the station was the resting place of the wounded rioters and
citizens
the police had brought in. In the centre
of the room lay the dead body of a Bohemian.
A shot had entered his body in the small of the back and had
gone clear
through him, protruding under the skin.
Scattered about just as they were brought in were a dozen men
more or
less seriously wounded, and waiting for medical attendance. One poor fellow with a flesh-wound in the leg
kept up a continuous moaning and screaming, but the remainder were as
quiet as
the death which was settling down upon not a few of the number. Several were unable to give their names and
occupations fully, but the list ran about as follows:
Robert
Schultz, No. 88 Harrison
Street,
waiter at No. 165 Ashland
Avenue,
just coming from the Lyceum; shot in the leg.
John
Sachman, No. 103 South
Desplaines street: was lounging along Randolph Street
when he was shot in the
leg.
Franz
Wrosch, residence in the cheap lodging-houses.
“I just stopped and listened,” he groaned, “and then the fire
came to my
shoulder and sides.” He will probably
die. Not a Socialist.
Charles
Schumaker, No. 19 Fry
Street;
was with two friends. They ran away and
he was shot in the back. It is doubtful
if he will recover.
Emil Lotz,
keeper of a small shoe shop at No. 25 North Halsted Street; when
he got through work
he went out to hear the speeches and was shot in the shoulder.
John
Edbund, a carriagemaker at NO. 1138 Milwaukee avenue; clubbed in
the head.
Peter Ley, No. 536
West Huron street;
shot in the back.
Joe Kucker,
a hanger-on around West Side
“barrel-houses”
and boarding at No. 116 Randolph street;
shot in the side.’
B. Le
Plant, Earl Park, Ind.: “I bought some
peanuts and was eating them when the bomb went off,” he said; “the shot
broke
my leg and I fell. In a second a shot
went into my shoulder and a policeman kicked me.”
Franz Kaderkit, a member of the
Central Labor Union and residing at the corner of Mohawk street and North Avenue,
wounded on the head and
right shoulder by a policeman’s club.
Thomas Haha of No.
157 Eagle Street
was shot in the back and leg. He was
carried into a hallway at No.
182 West Madison Street, where he lay
groaning. He was able to walk to the
patrol wagon, in
which he was carried to the County Hospital. He was probably a rioter, but he claimed to
be an unoffending citizen
In a search
of the dead Bohemian, but 12 cents was found upon him.
Not a trace of a name could be found. He
was apparently about 35 years of age.
Wounded Men Seeking the Drug-Stores.
Every
drug-store in the vicinity was crowded immediately with citizens who
had
received more or less serious injuries.
In John Hieland’s drug-store, at the corner of Desplaines and
Madison
streets, over a dozen men were carried by their friends, their wounds
dressed,
and then they were taken home. Their
names are entirely unknown to any one except their friends.
At Ebert’s
drug store, at the corner of Halsted and Madison, a man who said he was
in the
employ of the Chicago Sand & Gravel Company staggered in, and it
was found
that he had a bullet in his left breast, just below the nipple, in
close
vicinity to the heart, and also a bullet in his right leg.
He was taken home by a friend. Five
other men had bullets extracted from
arms and legs at this place by Drs. Shenick, Stewart, and Minte. One man had a serious bullet-wound in his
neck.
Three men
suffering from bullet-wounds were cared for at Barker’s drug store, NO.
280 West Madison Street
and three others who had slighter injuries.
Michael
Hahn of No. 257 Eagle
Street
was found by a physician sitting on a stairway near Halsted and Madison
streets
faint with loss of blood from two wounds.
He was taken home.
It was a
common spectacle to see men having their wounds dressed on the sidewalk.
The
street-cars going in every direction contained men who had been wounded
but
were strong enough to help themselves away.
Clearing the Streets
The feeling
among the police when they fully realized the extent of the calamity
which had
befallen their comrades rose to a frenzy, and nothing but the
discipline among
them and the presence of Inspector Bonfield, who was one of the very
few cool
men in the station, prevented their rushing out and talking summary
vengeance
upon the crowds of loiterers on the sidewalks who jeered the flying
patrol
wagons as they passed filled with officers on the way to the scene of
the
disaster. The cruel heartlessness of the
men who exulted over the fact that more than a score of policemen had
fallen
victims to the deadly Nihilist bomb surpasses belief, and yet it is a
fact
that, crowded along the sidewalks on both sides of Desplaines street
from
Madison street to the station, there were hundreds of Communistic
sympathizers
who exulted in the fiendish work which had been perpetrated but a few
moments
before. “served the damned coppers
right,” exclaimed a brutal looking hoodlum in front of the Lyceum
Theatre, and
the next moment he was running for dear life in front of a company of
police
which came charging down Desplaines street toward Madison brandishing
their
batons and firing their revolvers in the air.
It would have gone hard with any man who should have dared give
utterance to such a sentiment as this in the presence of an officer; he
would
have been killed without a word. As the
police by companies swept the streets adjacent to the Desplaines
station the
mob gave way sullenly and with the worst grace possible, but there was
no help
for it. Goaded to madness the police
were in that condition of mind which permitted of no resistance, and in
a
measure they were as dangerous as any mob of Communists, for they were
blinded
by passion and unable to distinguish between the peaceable citizen and
the
Nihilists assassin. But then at such a
time honest men had no business on the streets; their places were at
home, and
the police took it for granted that no man, unless he had had work on
hand,
would be hanging around the vicinity.
For squares from the Desplaines Station companies and squads of
offices
cleared the streets and mercilessly clubbed all who demurred at the
order to
go.
Scenes Before and After the Explosion – Men with Revolvers
The most
enthusiastic of the crowd were Germans.
There was also a large number of Poles and Bohemians, bedsides
some
American-looking people who came to look on and detectives who had on
old
clothes. Groups of Germans were
discussing the anticipated trouble.
Three of these fellow stood right behind the reporter, and he
heard
their conversation, which they kept up in a not very low tone, although
Parsons
was talking. “Our people don’t know
anything,” one of them said. “They
always shoot in the air when they ought to shoot low.
By shooting high they don’t hit anybody and
often kill one of their own crowd. I
have trained in crowds where they knew a thing or two, and our leaders
always
advised them to aim low.”
“And then,
again,” said the second, “they don’t stick together.
Haven’t Parsons, Spies, and all those fellows
told us to stick together? There is
where our strength lies.”
Several men
had their revolvers in their hands under their coats and were prepared
for an
attack. These drifted around to the
northern end of the crowd, where the street was much darker. The windows of the brick building on the
northeaster n corner of Randolph and Desplaines streets were filled
with the
heads and faces of men and women,. One
of the wounded officers said he saw the bomb come from one of these
windows. Officer Marx said he saw the
bomb come from the wagon in which the speakers stood.
When the
first shots were fired most of the crowd scattered east and west on Randolph street. The bullets followed the fleeing ones, and
many of them dropped on the way before they got out of danger. Quite a number of them ran up towards Halsted Street,
and
when they had nearly reached it the leader pulled out a huge revolver. He was apparently the same man whom the
reporter had heard telling the other two that to stick together was the
main
thing. “Stick together,” he cried. “Come here and let us go and shoot
them.” They started towards Desplaines street
on a trot, but had only gone a short distance when several shots were
fired on
the battleground. They turned around and
disappeared towards the street from where they had just come.
A number of
women were also seen in the crowd, and several scampered screaming down
Randolph Street. Men were seen falling 500 and 600 feet up Randolph Street, west
of Desplaines. Hats were lost, and several, stooping to pick up
something they
had dropped, were trampled on by the mad mob.
In the neighboring stores everything was confusion.
Men in their haste to get away from the
bullets broke open the doors of the stores and entered, hiding in the
first
convenient place they could find. The
proprietors struck at the intruders with clubs and threatened them with
pistols,
but they pushed past these and entered.
No More Free Speech and Dynamite
Mayor
Harrison, in the inner fringe of a crowd which numbered Chief Ebersold,
Inspector Bonfield, and Capt. Ward, was leaning on the iron railing
leading up to
the office of the Desplaines Street Station at midnight. His
head
was bowed and his face bore a grave and abstracted expression, although
he was
laconically taking part in the conversation going on.
A Tribune reporter with a question aroused
him sufficiently to induce him to change his position and move a step
or two
away. Not wishing to annoy him with any
questions that answered themselves, the reporter plumped this:
“Mr. Mayor,
in view of the terrible facts of the night is the city prepared to meet
any
expected or possible emergencies?”
“Yes, we
are ready for any probable or possible criminal outbreaks.”
“This
murderous move of the Socialists was not anticipated?”
“Not dreamt
of. Free speech is a right, but
accompanied with murder and dynamite is a crime to be suppressed at all
hazards.”
“Can the
city keep down this Socialistic element that planned the horrors of a
while
ago?”
“Yes, and
more than that, now that it is plainly and fully warned, it will.”
“What steps
have you concluded to take?”
“No new
ones are necessary. The laws are
sufficient and they must be obeyed.”
“Then you
have no intention to call on the State militia?”
“Why should
I? This thing is already suppressed.”
No
probability of another similar move on the part of the Socialistic
crowd?”
“I think
not. The Government of the city will and
is able to take care of its people.”
From the
first the Mayor was restive, and finally and with a chagrined air moved
away.
The Detectives After Spies and the Other Communist Leaders
Many oaths
were sworn by officers, as they gathered around their writhing comrades
in the
sound-room of the station and ministered to their wants, that they
would give
Sam Fielden, Spies, Parsons, and the rest of the Communistic outfit a
short
shrift if they managed to lay their hands upon them.
“These men should have been hanged or driven
out of town at the time of the street-car strike,” said one, “and then
this
thing never would have happened. They
have been preaching dynamite for years, and now they have given us a
practical
application of it. The way to do now is
to kill these _____ ______ scoundrels whenever we meet them. We won’t fool with them any more.”
The
celerity with which the leaders of the dynamite movement got out of the
way as
soon as the explosion occurred was little short of marvelous, and this
fact led
many to believe that they had knowledge of what was to be done, and
therefore
took occasion to escape the consequences they knew would follow. As soon as the superior police officers could
collect their with, orders were at once issued for the arrest of the
dynamite
orators, and they therefore will be behind the bars as soon as the
detectives
can get hold of them. Some said that mob
violence would be attempted when the Socialists are placed under
arrest, and it
is also a fact that the police do not at present feel as if they would
make any
very determined effort to save them from Judge Lynch.
It is not
believed that the Communistic leaders will dare trust themselves in the
city: they are notorious cowards and
always take good care to see that their own skins are safe, no matter
how many
other lives they may lure to destruction.
This crowning outrage will influence public sentiment and cause
the
people generally to wake to a realizing sense of the true situation. Mayor Harrison was at the Desplaines Street
Station for quite awhile last night, but he said nothing as to whether
or not
Communistic meetings will be allowed in the future.
He was very grave, and as he walked around
among the wounded, his face wore a pallor not unlike marble. It may be safe to say that from this time
forward there will be no Socialistic meetings held Sunday afternoons on
the
Lake-Front. If the police don’t disperse
them, the people will.
Chief Ebersold
Chief
Ebersold when interviewed was as suave as usual, but not disposed to
talk. He said that his force was ready for
any
present contingencies that could possibly arise, and that the police
needed no
help to crush and quiet Socialism and the red flag.
He had no intention of calling for or
suggesting aid from the State Government or militia.
His police force were brave and devoted to
the city, and he and they had faith that they could guard it against
all
criminals and organized unlawful uprisings.
“Do you
intend to prosecute the men who by speech incited the terrible work of
tonight?”
“Yes, we
will pursue them,” and he uttered this with an emphasis not customary
with
him. There was something like haste as
well as purpose in the tone, and he walked away rather to avoid further
questions than to give instructions.
Lieut. Bowler’s Statement
Lieut.
Bowler, who was in charge of the second company of twenty-four men,
said to the
reporter:
“Every man
in my company is wounded, with but three exceptions.
I led the company up to the wagon from which
the speeches were being made. Inspector
Bonfield and Capt. Ward were immediately in front of me.
Capt. Ward told the speakers they would have
to stop, as he had orders to disperse the meeting.
As he finished speaking a bomb was thrown
from the wagon and fell directly in the centre of my company, where it
exploded.”
“Are you
positive the bomb was thrown from that wagon?”
“Yes, I
am. I could make no mistake about it,
for I saw it thrown. Officers Reid and
Doyle were knocked down by it. Bonfield,
Ward, and myself were the only three to escape.
Every one behind me was wounded – just mowed down.
Inspector Bonfield
Police
Inspector Bonfield was next buttonholed, with difficulty.
His resolution and thoughtfulness as well as
the authority known to be vested in him made him always a centre for
his
subordinates. The questions asked him
had to be few and pertinent.
“Had you an
intimation or warning that such a terrible crime was to be committed?”
“Not
exactly, though I heard in the afternoon, by means not necessary to
mention,
that the Communists were bent on mischief.
Their plan was to make a diversion by a meeting in the southwest
side,
at Centre avenue
and Eighteenth Street,
and while the police were expected to be gathered near there, their
real
determined body was to attack the Milwaukee & St. Paul
freight-houses,
where 150 men brought form the outside were under presumed safety.”
“But they
did not in that point succeed?”
“No, we
foiled them. They held their meeting in
the southwest, and a sufficient number of men were sent there to look
out for
any movements they might make. But
anticipating a hellish intent underlying the haymarket meeting we had
massed
most of our force at the Desplaines Street Station.
I also had a number of officers in citizens’
clothes detailed to attend the meeting and report to me regularly of
its
progress and character. More than one of
these men came and said that he manner of the meting and tone of ht
speeches
were such as to urge immediate action for the dispersal of the gather. I said, “No, let it be beyond all question
that the law is broken before we move.”
Finally the speakers urged riot and slaughter; they should have,
they
said, revenge before morning for yesterday’s doings at McCormick’s, and
revenge
on the aristocrats and capitalists for their oppression of the people. They urged all laboring men to arm themselves
and not delay the hour of vengeance. I
then thought it was time to act and formed the police held in the
station in
reserve into four companies and, taking them through the side door,
marched
them in columns up to Randolph street, to where the speaking was going
on. Capt. Ward and myself were in front
and as we
reached the wagon, where a man was speaking, Capt. Ward stepped to the
front
and said: ‘In the name of the State of Illinois I
command you
peaceable to disperse,’ and, turning slightly to each side, he added,
‘and I
call upon you, and you, to assist.’ The
crowd gave way and took possession of the sidewalks.
Immediately I heard a whizzing in the air
above and behind me and then a tremendous explosion.
Almost instantly a fusillade of pistol-shots
from the sidewalks followed. I ordered
the men who were commencing to break to form and then we opened fire.” Inspector Bonfield, like the Mayor and the
Chief, thinks the police force is able to meet of itself any possible
deviltry
that the Socialists dare plan or try to execute.
The Meeting – Speeches of Spies, Parsons, and Fielden
Crowds
began to gather all over Hay-Market
Square as early as 7:30. At
the
corners of Desplaines, Union, and
Halsted
streets the men stood together and talked over the situation. Some said they had been told the revolution
would be started that night. There were
many member s of the Lehr-und-Wehr Verein, the Socialistic Rifle Union,
among
the crowds, so some who knew them said.
There was some uncertainty as to the precise place where the
meting was
going to be held. An anarchist informed
a Tribune reporter that the International Working-People’s Association
had
nothing to do with the matter. The Arbeiter-Zeitung had not issued the
call, but had taken the advertisement from some unknown persons. Nevertheless, their speakers were there in
full force. About 8:30 speakers were called for, and
August Spies
ascended a wagon that was standing on Desplaines street close to the
sidewalk in front of the Crane
Bros. establishment, just north of the east and west alley. He called the crowd of about 1,500 together
and told them that Parsons and Fielden would soon be there to address
them. He jumped off the wagon and went
round the square, bringing the men together towards the improvised
platform,
while somebody went after Parsons. A
little before 9 o’clock
Spies again called the meeting to order and began his address. The majority of the crowd were
foreigners. Some had to have the words
of the speaker interpreted to them by their friends.
Among the well-known Anarchists present were
Michael Schwab, B. Rau, and a man named Schnaubelt.
Mayor
Harrison was on the ground early, and walked up and down the square. He was asked if he was going to speak, and
replied: “No; and no one else
either.” He walked over to the stand,
and then went to the Desplaines Street Station.
About 300 policemen had been quartered there and in the
neighborhood to
be ready for an emergency. It was stated
that there would be no interference so long as the usual labor talk was
indulged in, but nothing revolutionary would be tolerated in view of
the
present excited condition of the strikers.
Spies’ Inflammatory Harangue
August
Spies, the first speaker, was remarkably mild.
He said the meeting was called to discuss the general situation,
not for
the purpose of raising a row or disturbance.
All violence was the outgrowth of their degraded condition and
the
oppression to which they were subjected.
He addressed a meeting in the neighborhood of McCormick’s Monday. His hearers were good church-going
people. They didn’t want to hear him
because he was a Socialist, but spoke to them and told them to stick
together. Some stones were thrown – a
harmless sport. The police came and
blood was shed. It was said that he
inspired the attack on McCormick’s. That
was a lie. The fight was going on. Now was the chance to strike for the existence
of an oppressed class. Oppressors wanted
them to be content; if not, they would kill them. The
thought of liberty which inspired your
sires to fight for their freedom ought to animate you today. The day was not far distant when they would
resort to hanging these men. [Applause
and cries of “Hang them now!”] McCormick
was the man who created the row Monday, and he must be held responsible
for the
murder of their brothers. [Cries of
“Hang him!”] “Don’t make any threats,” said Spies; “they are no of no
avail. Whenever you get ready to do
something do it, and don’t make any threats beforehand.” [Applause.] There were in the city today between 40,000
and 50,000 men locked out because they refused to obey the supreme will
or
dictation of a small number of men. The
families of 25,000 or 30,000 men were starving because their husbands
and
fathers are not men enough to withstand and resist the dictation of a
few
thieves on a grand scale.
[Applause.] Should it be out of
the power of a few men to say whether they should work or not? Would they place their lives, their
happiness, everything out of the arbitrary power of a few rascals who
had been
raised in idleness and luxury upon the fruits of labor?
[Applause.]
Would they stand that? [Cries of
“No.”] The press said they were
Bohemians, Poles, Russians, Germans – that there were no Americans
among
them. That was a lie.
Every honest American was with them. [Applause.]
Those who were not were unworthy of their traditions and their
forefathers. [Applause.]
Parsons Is More Moderate than Usual.
A.R.
Parsons was next introduced, and repeated his old, old story, claiming
that
labor was deprived of its natural right to live, and that the only hope
of the
workingman was in Socialism. Without it
they would soon become Chinamen.
[Applause.] It was time to raise
a note of warning. There was nothing in
the eight-hour movement to excite the capitalist. Did
his hearers know that the military were
under arms, and the Gatling gun was loaded and ready to mow them down. [Applause.]
Was this German, or Russia,
or Spain? [A voice, “It looks like it.”]
Whenever they made a demand for eight hours
or an increase of pay the militia, and the Deputy-Sheriffs and
Pinkerton’s men
were called out and they were shot, and clubbed, and murdered in the
streets. [Applause.] He
was not there for the purpose of inciting
anybody, but to speak the truth, to tell the facts as they existed,
even though
it should cost him his life before morning.
[Cheers.] He told about the Cincinnati
demonstration,
which was headed by the Rifle Union, carrying Springfield rifles, “and the red flag
of
liberty, fraternity, and equality for labor all over the world – the
red flag
of emancipated labor.” [Applause.] He denounced patriotism as a humbug. “It behooves you,” he said, “as you love your
wife and children, if you would not see them perish with hunger, killed
or cut
down like dogs in the street, American men, in the interest of liberty
and your
independence, to arm, TO ARM yourselves.
[Applause, and cries of “We will do it!” and “We are ready now!”] They were not. As
this civilization was founded upon force,
only by force could they attain relief. [Applause.]
Sam Fielden Talks to the Crowd
Sam Fielden
began by saying that there were premonitions of danger.
All knew it.
The press said the Anarchists would sneak away.
They were not going to. [Applause.]
If they continued to be robbed it wouldn’t be long before they
would be
murdered. There was no security for the
working classes under the present social system. A
few individuals controlled the means of
living, and they held the workingman in a vise.
Everybody doesn’t know that.
Those who knew it were tired of it, and knew the others would
get tired
of it too. They were determined to
end
it, and would end it, and there was no power in the land that could
prevent
them. [Applause.] Congressman
Foran had said the laborer could
get nothing from legislation.
[Applause.] He also said that the
laborers could get some relief from their present condition when the
rich man
knew it was unsafe for him to live in a community where there were
dissatisfied
workmen; that that would solve the labor problem. [Applause.]
The speaker didn’t know whether they were Democrats or
Republicans, but whichever
they were they worshiped at the shrine of rebels. John
Brown, Jefferson, Washington,
Patrick Henry, Hopkins
said to the people, the law is your enemy; we are rebels against it. The law is only framed for those that are
your enslavers. [“That’s true.”] Men in their blind rage attacked McCormick’s
factory, and were shot down in cold blood by the law [applause] of the
City of Chicago
in the protection
of property. Those men were going to do
some damage to a certain person’s interest, who was a large
property-owner. Therefore the law came
to his defense. And when McCormick
undertook to do some injury to the interest of those who had no
property the
law also came to his defense, and not to the workingman’s defense when
he
(McCormick) attacked him and his living;
[Cries of “No.”] There was the
difference. The law made no
distinctions. A million men own all the
property in this country. The law is of
no use to the other 54,000,000. [“Right
enough.”] You have nothing more to do with
the law except to lay hands upon it and throttle it until it makes its
last
kick. [Applause.] It
has turned your brethren out on the
wayside and degraded them until they have lost the last vestige of
humanity and
become mere things and animals. Keep
your eye upon it. Throttle it. Kill it.
Stop it. Do everything you can to
wound it—to impede its progress. If you
don’t, it is a life and death struggle between you and it, and it will
kill
you. Remember, if you ever do anything
for yourselves, prepare to do it for yourselves. Don’t
turn over you business to anybody
else. No man deserves anything unless he
is man enough to make an effort to lift himself from oppression.
At this
point, as a storm was approaching, Mr. Parsons suggested that they
adjourn to
the hall on the corner. The crowd had
gradually diminished after Parsons concluded, and more went away,
leaving
perhaps 500 to listen to the continuation of Fielden’s talk.
He went on
to ask if it wasn’t a fact that they had no choice as to their
existence—that
they couldn’t dictate what their labor was worth? He who had to obey
the will
of another in order to live was a slave.
[Applause.] Could they do
anything except by the strong arm of resistance? His
next sentence was followed by the arrival
of the police.
At Midnight.
At midnight
the situation was such that
it was deemed safe to send away the reserves who had arrived to aid the
Third
Precinct men and the policemen from the First, Fourth, and Fifth
Precincts were
dispatched in wagons to their respective headquarters.
Some men had been sent from the Second
Precinct, but they were sent back as soon as the first fight was over,
as they
have dangerous territory in the lumber districts to guard.
The greater portion of the Second Precinct
men were held at the Desplaines Street Station, giving Capt. Ward about
150 men
with which to police the district for the remainder of the night.
Incidents.
It was
reported that both the First and Second Regiments had been ordered to
their
armories last night after the news of the rioting had become noised
abroad. A guard was on duty at either
place and declined to answer inquiries as to the strength of the force
under
arms.
Sergt.
Anson Bolte of the First Infantry, I.N.G., Company C, heard the firing,
and
supposing that his company had been called out, hurried to the scene. He was in citizen’s uniform, and a police
officer, supposing him to be one of the mob, took him to the station. After spending two hours in a cell he was
identified and released.
The police
force engaged in the battle numbered 174 men.
These were divided into six companies.
On leaving the Desplaines Street Station the battalion headed
north,
Lieut. Steele, with fifty men, leading.
Capt. Ward with Lieut. Bowler, Sergt. Moore, and twenty-four men
came
next, followed by Lieut. Hubbard with Sergt.
Fitzpatrick and twenty-seven men.
Next was Lieut. Penzen with twenty-four men, Lieut. Beard with
sixteen
men bringing up the rear.
Haymarket
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