Tracking the Conspirators—Female Anarchists—A Bevy of Beauties
Beauties—Petticoated Ugliness—The Breathless Messenger—A
Detective’s Danger—Turning the Tables—“That Man is a Detective!”—A
Close Call—Gaining Revolutionists’ Confidence—Vouched for by the
Conspirators—Speech-making Extraordinary—The Hiding-place in the
Anarchists’ Hall—Betrayed by a Woman—The Assassination of Detective
Brown at Cedar Lake—Saloon-keepers and the Revolution—“Anarchists
for Revenue Only”—Another Murder Plot—The Peep-hole Found—Hunting
for Detectives—Some Amusing Ruses of the Revolutionists—A
Collector of “Red” Literature and his Dangerous Bonfire—Ebersold’s
Vacation—Threatening the Jury—Measures Taken for their
Protection—Grinnell’s Danger—A “Bad Man” in Court—The Find at the
_Arbeiter-Zeitung_ Office—Schnaubelt’s Impudent Letter—Captured
Correspondence—The Anarchist’s Complete Letter-writer.
IN the light of all the facts that have developed, I do not believe
that it is too large a statement, nor too egotistical, to say that,
but for the work done at the Chicago Avenue Station, the Anarchist
leaders would soon have been given their liberty, and Anarchy would
have been as rampant as ever in Chicago—worse indeed than before; for
the conspirators would then have despised as well as hated the law.
What the work was, the reader will better understand after he has gone
through this and the succeeding chapters.
I did not depend wholly upon police effort, but at once employed a
number of outside men, choosing especially those who were familiar
with the Anarchists and their haunts. The funds for this purpose
were supplied to me by public-spirited citizens who wished the law
vindicated and order preserved in Chicago. I received reports from
the men thus employed from the beginning of the case up to November
20, 1887. There are 253 of the reports in all, and a most interesting
history of Chicago Anarchy do they make even in themselves.
They always conveyed important information and gave valuable clues.
They confined their efforts wholly to Anarchists, and their principal
duty was to ascertain if the reds intended to organize again for
another riot or an incendiary attempt upon the city. They were also to
learn if steps were contemplated to effect the rescue of the Anarchists
who were locked up in the County Jail, and whether they were getting
up any further murder plots. At each Anarchist meeting I had at least
one man present to note the proceedings and learn what plots they
were maturing. Generally before midnight I would know all that had
transpired at meetings of any importance. From many meetings I learned
that the Anarchists were discussing plans to revenge themselves on
the police, but in each case, as soon as they were about to take some
definite action, some one would move an adjournment or suggest the
appointment of a committee to work out the plan in some better shape.
When the next meeting was held the fellows who had done the loudest
shouting would be absent, and then those who happened to be on hand
would vent their wrath upon the absentees by calling them cowards.
In many of the smaller meetings held on Milwaukee Avenue or in that
vicinity, a lot of crazy women were usually present, and whenever
a proposition arose to kill some one or to blow up the city with
dynamite, these “squaws” proved the most bloodthirsty.
[Illustration: THE “RED” SISTERHOOD.]
In fact, if any man laid out a plan to perpetrate mischief, they would
show themselves much more eager to carry it out than the men, and it
always seemed a pleasure to the Anarchists to have them present. They
were always invited to the “war dances.” Judge Gary, Mr. Grinnell, Mr.
Bonfield and myself were usually remembered at these gatherings, and
they fairly went wild whenever bloodthirsty sentiments were uttered
against us. The reporters and the so-called capitalistic press also
shared in the general denunciations. At one meeting, held on North
Halsted Street, there were thirteen of these creatures in petticoats
present, the most hideous-looking females that could possibly be found.
If a reward of money had been offered for an uglier set, no one could
have profited upon the collection. Some of them were pock-marked,
others freckle-faced and red-haired, and others again held their
snuff-boxes in their hands while the congress was in session. One
female appeared at one of these meetings with her husband’s boots on,
and there was another one about six feet tall. She was a beauty! She
was raw-boned, had a turn-up nose, and looked as though she might have
carried the red flag in Paris during the reign of the Commune.
This meeting continued all right for about two hours. Then a rap came
on the locked door. The guard reported that one of their cause desired
admittance, giving his name at the same time,—and the new arrival
was permitted to enter. He was a large man with a black beard and
large eyes, and very shabbily dressed. He looked as though he had been
driving a coal cart for a year without washing or combing. He also
had the appearance of being on the verge of hydrophobia. As soon as
he reached the interior of the hall he blurted out hastily, in a loud
voice:
“Ladies and brothers of our cause! Please stop all proceedings—I am
out of breath—I will sit down for a few minutes.”
All present looked at the man with a great deal of curiosity and
patiently waited for him to recover his breath. The interval was about
five minutes. Then the stranger jumped up and said:
“I am from Jefferson. I ran all the way [a distance of five miles]. I
was informed that you were holding a meeting here this evening, and
that there is a spy in your midst.”
At this bit of information every one became highly excited, and the
stranger immediately proceeded to inquire if there was anyone they
suspected. They all looked at each other, and, becoming satisfied that
they were all friends of Anarchy, waited for the man to give them more
precise information. The stranger then continued:
“The man is described to me, and that is all I know.”
He looked around for a moment and finally said, pointing to the man
addressed:
“If I am not damnably mistaken, you are the man!” At the same time he
ordered the guard to lock the door and pull out the key.
“Now,” he resumed, addressing the man to whom he had pointed, who was
none other than a detective in my service, “you will have to give a
good account of yourself.”
This placed my man in a rather embarrassing position, but he was equal
to the emergency.
“I am an Anarchist,” he spoke up promptly, in a loud, clear and firm
tone of voice, “and I have been one for years, and you are simply
one of those Pinkerton bummers. What business have you here in our
meetings, I would like to know. The other day I passed Pinkerton’s
office. I was sitting in a car, and I saw you coming down stairs. I
suppose you met some fool that gave you a little information so as to
get in here. All you want to know evidently is how many are present
here, and, if possible, learn what we are doing. You get out of here
in five seconds, or I will shoot you down like a rat.”
The officer then pulled out of his pocket a large revolver, and,
brandishing it in the air, asked:
“Shall I kill that bloodhound?”
[Illustration: TURNING THE TABLES.]
The women cried out in a chorus: “Yes, yes; kill him!” The men,
however, did not like the proposition. One of them said: “Don’t kill
him here; take him out somewhere else and shoot him.” This seemed to
meet with general approval.
The turn of affairs completely surprised the stranger, and he became
so frightened that he could not speak. No one in the meeting knew him,
and he was powerless to speak in his own defense. The officer held his
revolver directed at the man’s face and kept toying with it in the
vicinity of his nose. Finally the fellow stammered out:
“I am all right, and you will find me out so.”
At last the women again broke in, with a demand that the intruder be
immediately ejected, and the men responded promptly by kicking him out
of the door. He had no sooner reached the outside than he started on a
keen run, in momentary dread of his life, and he kept up his rapid gait
until he thought he was at a safe distance.
The officer was then the hero of the moment, but he recognized the fact
that he himself was not absolutely safe after this episode. It occurred
to him that possibly the stranger might hunt up some one on Milwaukee
Avenue who could identify him and assure the meeting that he was a true
and reliable Anarchist, and thus turn the tables against the officer.
The moment, therefore, he had regained his seat, he decided to resort
to strategy, and said:
“We will have to adjourn at once. This fellow will run to the
station-house and bring the patrol wagon with a lot of officers, and we
will all be arrested.”
In less than three minutes the meeting adjourned, and then the officer
advised them all to go home immediately and not to remain a second if
they did not desire to be arrested. The Anarchists did as he suggested,
and scattered for home in a hurry.
This detective did not attend any more of the meetings, but was content
in congratulating himself on having come out of that assembly without a
bruise or a scratch.
About January, 1887, one of my privates informed me that there was a
place on Clybourn Avenue where the Anarchists were accustomed to hold
private meetings. He said that he could not get in as yet, and I told
him to pick up some one whom he could work handily. He must first
form the man’s acquaintance, and then hang around the saloons in the
neighborhood and read the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_. I gave him one of John
Most’s books and made him wear a red necktie. I advised him also to get
about half drunk, sing the Marseillaise and curse the police. By so
doing, I told him, it would not be long before he would find a partner.
Several times subsequently the detective visited the Anarchist resorts,
accompanied by a little boy who belonged to one of his friends, and in
less than two weeks he had wormed himself into the confidence of the
gang who frequented Clybourn Avenue. If any one asked him his name he
would say:
“I don’t give my name to people I don’t know. I am against law and
order, and that is sufficient. I don’t believe in having good men hung
to satisfy the rich. They will not hang if I can help any.”
For the first couple of weeks, the newly formed friends of this
detective would not take him to any of their meetings. I advised him
not to make inquiries. As soon as they thought him all right, they
would speak themselves. Within three weeks some one took him to a
meeting and vouched for him as being true to their cause. At the first
meeting he attended he saw that he was as intelligent as any one of
them, and so he delivered a short speech. That captured them, and they
pronounced him a good man. They asked him to call again at their next
meeting, and he promised that he would be on hand. He then reported to
me. I told him to find a weak spot around the building, where I could
put some one to protect him in case of discovery and danger. A few
days after he reported again that there was a vacant basement under
the house, and that it was very low. There was only a common door with
an ordinary lock. I then promised him that I would put a strong man in
there at every meeting, and in case he should be attacked by the gang,
he should shout, “Police.” Then, the moment the door was broken in, he
was to cry out, “Brother!” so that the man coming to his assistance
would know him at once. I also told him that at the next meeting he
should ascertain the size of the room and notice whatever furniture
might be there and where it was standing. This he did. He made a small
diagram.
[Illustration: UNDERGROUND AUDITORS.]
I then detailed a man to take a position in the basement at several
meetings, but, running short of men shortly afterwards, I was obliged
to take this man away. But this did not cripple us. On another occasion
the private reported again, handed me a plat of the room and gave me
some desired information. I sent for Officer Schuettler. He responded
promptly, and I told him what I wanted done. He said that he was ready
to carry out my instructions. I told him to go and buy a one-inch
auger, and next procure a funnel with the large end the circumference
of a saucer, and a pipe about four inches long. After an hour’s absence
he returned with the desired articles. I handed him several keys with
which to open the door, showed him the plat, and told him where to bore
a hole. I also told him to secure a cork and plug up the hole after he
was through. I then instructed him to get into the place about half an
hour before the meeting opened and have his apparatus in working order.
I gave Officer Schuettler the dates on which meetings were to be held,
and then he started out with good hope in his new undertaking. A few
days subsequently the officer reported back, and his face was wreathed
in smiles.
“You must have had success,” I said.
“Yes, everything worked like a charm.”
He handed me a good report and remarked that it contained the most
important part of the business done by the meeting. He suggested that
he ought to have some one with him so that he could secure all the
details. For the next meeting I sent another officer with him, and this
man had a dark lantern. Schuettler would listen, and as he whispered
the words and sentiments of the speakers, the other officer, with the
aid of the light from his lantern, would commit them to paper. The next
morning I received a full report of all the transactions.
This sort of work was kept up for several months, and during all this
time I was kept pretty well informed of the secret movements of the old
North Side groups. At the beginning of all their meetings the speakers
would declare their wish to see Judge Gary, Mr. Grinnell, all the
officers working on the case and myself hung. They generally closed
with a promise to kill all capitalists and blow up all the newspaper
buildings.
One private detective, whom I had at work for me for a long time,
proved very valuable. He belonged to a union and showed very fine
judgment. He would watch only the most radical leaders and ascertain
their intentions. He was a rabid Anarchist himself, but he did not
believe in killing people or precipitating riots so long as it would
not help their cause. He often used to say to me:
“Captain, I will be true to you. I will help you all I can to prevent
some of these fools from committing any more murders.”
He said that some of his people had not sense enough to know what
they were doing, and that, whenever he met a man of family who talked
about killing somebody, he would remonstrate with him. For this good
and sensible advice some of the reds called him a coward and a spy. At
one time, on Lake Street, a big, burly brute called him a coward and a
creeping thing. My man stepped up to the fellow and said:
“I will make you eat your own words, or you will have to kill me.”
“What do you want me to do?” asked the big ruffian.
“Fight a duel,” retorted the detective. “I will give you twenty
minutes’ time in which to secure a revolver and get ready. I will pay
your car-fare, and we will go out to Garfield Park. No one shall go
with us, and if you don’t accept my challenge, I will kill you anyhow.”
“Are you in earnest?” asked the other.
“Never more so in my life,” was the reply.
The boasting coward then begged for more time, which was not granted,
and, seeing the challenger determined, he winced.
“I believe you are a good man. I am sorry that I have insulted you, and
I beg your pardon. Let up on this. If you don’t feel like doing so, for
God’s sake do it for my wife and family.”
The young fellow then struck the braggart in the face and walked away.
The whimpering coward never raised his hand nor uttered another word.
This man whom I had employed did not like Spies. He termed Spies a
rattle-head, and disapproved of his arguments in the _Fackel_ that
the 1st of May was the time for the Anarchists to rise. In this view
all the more sensible conspirators agreed. They knew that they could
not accomplish anything, and therefore they kept away. My man was one
of this latter class. He said everything was working nicely in their
favor, but Spies killed everything. He told me that one night he was in
company with Spies, and that Spies said:
“I do not care how little I can accomplish. I want revenge on the
police. They killed my brother—a d——d policeman killed him at a
picnic. He shot him dead, and I will never stop until I have more than
double revenge.”
This statement of Spies’ about the killing was true. The brother killed
was a young tough, and had been shot by Officer Tamillo.
My man said that from the moment of this interview he had no more
use for Spies. This detective ceased work for a few months, but he
thereafter resumed his secret service, as he found that, in view of the
strikes and laying-off, he could hardly make a living otherwise. I put
him to work again, and he did well, continuing for two months. One day
he came to me and wanted $30. I gave it to him, and he started away. He
would report to me daily through the mail, and whenever he had anything
of special importance to communicate he always knew just where to find
me. I missed his reports for five days, and I failed to learn anything
of him during that time. On the 2nd of August I was severely injured by
being thrown out of my buggy, and I was obliged to keep to the house
for two weeks. On the 5th of August I received a communication from the
Coroner of Lake County, Indiana, asking me if I had a man named Charles
Brown working for me as a detective. The letter was as follows:
HAMMOND, LAKE COUNTY, Indiana, August 3, 1887.
_Captain Schaack_—Sir: I enclose a copy of a statement of a witness
who identified the bodies of two parties drowned in Cedar Lake; also
the badge pin found on the man. A Mr. Heise stated to me before he saw
the body that the man was a detective and wore his police badge on his
breast. The body had been found by a hard case by the name of Green
and some pals of his, on the southeast corner of Cedar Lake. When
the body was landed, all the garments on it were undershirt, drawers
and pants. All the rest had disappeared. His coat was found later,
but nothing in the pockets. The rest was not found. Mr. Heise said
that he had some money, a watch and chain and a revolver when he left
Chicago. Other parties say that the man Green changed a $20 note for
him some time before he was drowned. There are some very mysterious
circumstances with regard to his condition as found and reported by
Green and Scotty, when they found the body, with regard to vest,
watch, money and revolver. I think a little detective work might show
up the matter.
Respectfully yours,
G. VAN DE WALKER,
Coroner, Lake Co., Indiana.
Three days after, I learned that this was the same man I had employed,
and I placed Officer Schuettler on the case to unravel, if possible,
the mystery surrounding his death. The officer in a few days reported
that it was exceedingly difficult to obtain a clue, as no one seemed
disposed to give any information as to foul play; but enough was
learned in a general way to warrant the conclusion that underhanded
methods had been used to accomplish the man’s death.
I recalled certain incidents in connection with the man’s work as a
detective, and, placing them by the side of the seemingly accidental
drowning, I became convinced that a deliberate crime had been committed.
[Illustration: BETRAYED BY BEAUTY.]
One day this private asked me if I would allow him to tell a young lady
what he was working at. I told him that he must do nothing of the kind;
that if he did so I would have no further use for him. He then begged
me to permit him to use my name as his friend, and I told him I had no
objection to that. But I found out later that he had said more to the
young lady than I had consented to, and I believe his indiscretion in
that respect is what cost him his life.
From the moment that the girl ascertained his secret occupation he was
a doomed man. She let other Anarchists into the secret, and they at
once set about devising means for ending his life.
The information I received later was that it had been decided upon that
the young woman should inveigle him to Cedar Lake, and then, when he
was in her power, to do away with him. The two left the city together,
and were followed by the others in the conspiracy to the place where
his body was found. Before taking the trip on the water, she was seen
talking with some mysterious-looking individuals, and they then and
there decided upon the details of the plan. She was to get him to row
out into deep water, and, when they had got fairly started, her friends
were to follow in another rowboat at a convenient distance. When
they reached the middle of the lake she was to keep a close watch on
the other boat, and as they neared her boat she was to suddenly throw
herself on one side and tip the boat over so that both occupants would
be thrown into the water. Her friends were then to be close at hand,
pick her up and save her from drowning. The programme was carried out
so far as related to the capsizing of the boat, but the men did not get
near enough in time to save her. She went down with her companion and
was drowned with him.
There is no doubt as to the truth of this plot. It was in entire
keeping with Anarchistic methods; and parties who were at the lake
at the time state that they saw the young lady get up in the boat,
and that while thus standing she swung it over, precipitating herself
and her lover into the water. I had men engaged on the case for some
time, but the investigation always ended in the same way—an undoubted
conclusion that the detective’s life was taken by reason of a plot,
but no evidence to establish the guilt of the conspirators. From the
information I received, I am satisfied that the whole matter was
carefully planned and carried out by the woman.
From May 7, 1886, to November 20, 1887, I had a great deal of work,
there were so many things to look after, but after matters had become
systematized and the force had been brought down to good working order,
the burdens of the office became much easier than most people would
suppose.
In the first place, I had one hundred and sixty rank Anarchists to
look after; but as soon as these became known to my men, it was an
easy matter for the officers to report where they had seen them and
with whom they associated. Then I had ten small halls to watch where
the Anarchists met night and day. There were also seventeen saloons
where these people were accustomed to congregate. Three of these latter
had small halls connected with them. Twelve of the other saloons had
rear rooms where the reds would sit at times and hold small meetings.
After we had all their haunts located, and knowing the kind of men who
frequented them, the work of keeping track of them was not so hard.
Some of these Anarchists would enter boldly into these places, while
others would almost crawl on their stomachs to get into the resorts
without being seen. Others again would disguise themselves so that
their identity could not become known to detectives.
The officers made no attempt to close these places, and possibly the
reader may ask why such notorious and dangerous resorts were permitted
to continue unmolested.
My reason for not closing them was that the Anarchists were bound to
meet in some place. We knew their resorts thoroughly, and I had plenty
of my men among them, who worked ostensibly for the cause of Anarchy,
but who continually furnished me pointers. Again, we knew just where
they would meet and could always have our men present. If I had shut
them out from these places, they would have been driven into private
houses, broken up into smaller factions, and our work would have been
made much broader and harder in keeping track of them and their doings.
So long as I had the machine, so to speak, in my own hands, and knew
all that had been done and said, we let them alone. And the results
justified our course.
Among the saloon-keepers there was one who seemed to have a special
liking for me. This man, who had a place on Lake Street, on taking his
first drink in the morning would invariably drink to my health, saying:
“I hope that that d——d Luxemburger, Schaack, will be killed before
I go to bed to-night;” and when he was about to close his doggery for
the day, he would take two drinks and say: “I hope I will find Schaack
hanging to a lamp-post in the morning when I get up.”
When the saloon-keepers were particularly loaded with beer, they
shouted louder than any one else for Anarchy, and the louder and more
vehemently they shouted the more “solid” did they become with their
Anarchist customers. At every meeting held at these places, collections
were taken up, and the saloon-keepers could always be counted upon to
contribute liberally.
The worst of these ignorant fools never did realize why the
saloon-keepers shouted so lustily for Anarchy until they came home to
find their wives and little ones crying for bread. Then, perhaps, it
faintly dawned upon their minds that the saloon-keepers were after
their nickels. These liquor-sellers were Anarchists for revenue only,
and they sought in every way to keep on the right side of the rank
and file of the party. They always looked to it, the first thing in
the morning, that plenty of Anarchist literature and a dozen or so
copies of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ were duly on the tables of their
places, and in some saloons beer-bloated bums, who could manage to read
fairly, were engaged to read aloud such articles as were particularly
calculated to stir up the passions of the benighted patrons. Robber and
hypocrite are terms too weak to apply to these saloon-keepers. Some of
them had “walking delegates” by their side, and if an Anarchist seemed
to them to be “going wrong” by seeking work, the delegate and assistant
robber would tell him to go back to his headquarters and wait, assuring
him that they would have all things right in a few days.
And this is the way these poor fools and their families were kept in
continual misery. Many of the dupes have had their eyes opened and have
quit frequenting these places and the underground caves. What is the
result? Their families are better looked after, and the difference in
their comfort is very apparent. They used to call the Chicago Avenue
Station “Schaack’s Bastile,” but let me say that those saloon-keepers
with their low and contemptible resorts were the real bastile-keepers.
Hundreds and hundreds of men, heads and fathers of families, have been
kept in squalid want by spending their very last cent in these holes,
and their dependents have been left without food, proper clothing or
fuel. I believe in unions for proper objects, but even these should not
be continued for the benefit of such saloon-keepers.
All these men were great heroes so long as they could hope to enrich
themselves, but when the chief conspirators were locked up in jail, and
liberal contributions were demanded for the defense, their enthusiasm
in the holy cause of Anarchy was considerably cooled.
While Chicago is regarded as the head center of Anarchy in America,
people of other cities and States should not imagine that the vicious
reds are all in this city. There are plenty of them scattered
throughout the country, and this fact was made quite manifest at the
time the Anarchists were being arrested. Friends of the imprisoned
men came to Chicago from all over the United States, and financial
assistance poured in on all sides. Those who came here were open in
their declarations of sympathy and never attempted to conceal their
actions.
When these same men were at their homes they did not dare to openly
say a word in favor of Anarchy, because they were few in numbers; but
should there be enough to make a formidable showing, they will throw
off their mask and assume a defiant, menacing attitude.
These arrivals, just as soon as they became known, were kept under
espionage, and every movement they made was looked after, lest they
might commit some desperate deed. Of course there were a great many
whom the police did not discover, and it is a wonder that, during
the excitement incident to the arrest of so many Anarchists and the
searches made of Anarchistic houses, some diabolical act was not
perpetrated. Possibly they discovered that the omnipresent police were
so thoroughly on the inside of their conspiracy that detection was
inevitable. It is certain that they knew that I had become thoroughly
posted as to the inside workings of Anarchy, and the sound fear which I
was able to inspire by a bold and aggressive policy no doubt acted as a
restraint upon any violent outburst of passion and revenge.
It was constant vigilance alone that averted trouble, and no Anarchist
of a specially vicious disposition was permitted to feel that his
movements were overlooked or unwatched. For this purpose I had
Anarchists among Anarchists to inform on Anarchists, and all the
meetings were thus kept under strict surveillance. Even private houses
were watched. On one occasion I desired to secure certain information.
One of the private detectives was accordingly detailed to watch the
rear of a certain building from an alley. He was there for two days
without being observed by any one, but on the third day he was noticed
by a police officer. The officer asked him what he was doing in that
locality, and the private responded:
“I am waiting for a friend of mine who is working in this barn, and I
expect him around soon.”
[Illustration: THALIA HALL.
From a Photograph.]
The officer placed no reliance on the statement, and so he hustled him
out of the alley. The detective walked on a short distance, and, as
soon as the officer was out of sight, retraced his steps and returned
to the place, this time finding a different point for his observations.
He had scarcely thought himself secure from further interruptions, when
the back gate of the next yard opened, and in walked the same officer.
Both were alike surprised. But this time there were no questions asked
and no explanations demanded. The officer promptly seized the detective
by the collar and marched him to the Chicago Avenue Station. The
detective kept his identity to himself, and of course found himself
speedily assigned to a cell over night. On the next morning, as I
sauntered through the lock-up, I discovered my friend in durance vile,
and, promptly looking up the record, found that he had been booked for
disorderly conduct.
I then returned and told him that, when brought into court, he should
not say anything to the judge, but play the part of a fool and
simpleton. His case came up; he was fined $5 and sent back to the
lock-up. I went to him later, handed him the money, and in half an hour
he paid his fine and left. The detective went back to his post, but the
officer was not put on that beat again. My man worked for about two
weeks and finished his job.
Of course, the detectives in the case had varied experiences. On
another occasion it was desirable to know what was being done at some
secret meetings held at Thalia Hall, No. 703 Milwaukee Avenue. This
was after the trial of the Anarchists had begun. I assigned a few
detectives in that direction, and shortly afterwards the proceedings
might as well have been open so far as the police were concerned.
My boys had a great deal of fun. They managed to discover a way by
which they secured an entrance under the stage, and at the first
meeting they attended they amused themselves by cutting a hole through
that portion of the stage facing the audience. When they had done
this, they could see all present and hear everything that was said.
Many a night they held to that port-hole and enjoyed the circus on the
outside. They heard many a speech of a threatening character against
Judge Gary, Mr. Grinnell, Mr. Bonfield and myself, and sometimes they
had to listen to some rampant speaker who would depict the pleasure
all Anarchists would enjoy at seeing the funerals of these officials
passing through the streets. Of course, those who were the most bitter
had the least courage, and so long as the auditors only listened to
speeches, my boys were perfectly satisfied that no immediate danger was
to be apprehended.
I finally learned that some of the Anarchists had become suspicious,
and therefore ordered Officer Schuettler and the others to remain away,
as they would otherwise be discovered. And they would have been. One
day the Anarchists made a careful search of the building, and they
found the hole through which the boys had peeped. They then decided on
a plan. It was that during the next meeting, which they felt certain
some of my boys would attend, a great commotion should be made in the
hall. This would surely bring one of the detectives with his eye very
near the hole. Then one of the Anarchists should stealthily creep up on
the side, suddenly plunge a sharp iron through the hole, and kill the
man within.
One officer, who proved of great assistance to me, was Charles Nordrum.
He became engaged in the case shortly after the Haymarket riot, and
after a time became a regular attaché of the detective department.
He was born in Norway on the 9th of November, 1858, and had lived in
Chicago since 1868. He joined the police force in November, 1884, and,
possessing a great deal of tact and shrewdness, his services were soon
enlisted in the work of hunting up the red conspirators. He worked at
times with Officer Schuettler, but reported to Ebersold. Both were
known to my officers, but they did not know of my private workers.
Nordrum was especially detailed to look after some meetings at Thalia
Hall, at the Emma Street Hall, in the rear room of Zepf’s saloon, in
the rear room of Greif’s saloon, at No. 600 Blue Island Avenue, and
at the Northwestern Hall, and he did not overlook meetings held in
the cellars of some of the more prominent Anarchists on the Northwest
Side and of others who were in sympathy with the Anarchists. He wormed
himself into the good graces of quite a number of the reds, and was
always kindly received by them. After a time the police stopped the
holding of meetings in some of the halls, and then the Anarchist
sympathizers harbored the reds in their cellars, furnishing candles for
illumination and nail-kegs for seats. On the 5th of July, 1887, Nordrum
was exposed at No. 599 Milwaukee Avenue, and he was at once surrounded
by an infuriated mob. The Anarchists with whom he had associated
attempted to kill him, but the officer, after a desperate fight,
succeeded in reaching the door before any serious violence had been
done him. This, of course, destroyed his further usefulness among them,
but out of his knowledge of the men and their affairs two arrests were
effected. He and Officer Schuettler brought in Emil Wende and Frederick
Kost, members of the Terra Cotta Union. These men had been selected to
buy each member of their group a 42-caliber revolver and one box of
cartridges, and the weapons so secured were to have been used on the
police on the day of the execution. The weapons had been purchased, and
as soon as the principals had been placed under arrest, a descent was
made upon the supply. All the revolvers were captured and brought to
the Central Station.
[Illustration: UNDERGROUND CONSPIRATORS.]
Noticing how successfully they had been circumvented in all their
movements, the Anarchists naturally came to the conclusion that
detectives were working in their ranks either in the interest of myself
or of Billy Pinkerton, and they resolved to discover, if possible, the
men so engaged. One day a very intelligent fellow called at my office
and wanted to know if I desired any more men to work for me among the
Anarchists. He stated that he was well acquainted with all the reds,
and, if I would pay him well, he would render good service.
I called him into my private office, and I closely questioned him. I
learned that he knew a great many of them, and I told him that I wanted
one good man. He then considered himself engaged, and said to me:
“Now you had better tell me all the men that are working for you and
show them all to me so we can work together.”
I told him that if he could find out any one of my men I would pay him
$20 a week, and then he might consider himself engaged. He went away,
but he never came back to claim the $20.
[Illustration: OFFICER NORDRUM.]
This ruse having failed, the Anarchists devised another. One day early
in August, 1886, they sent one of my countrymen, a Luxemburger, to me.
This fellow began to play his cards very nicely, and sought to carve a
very pretty little path into my confidence, but he had not proceeded
very far before my suspicions were aroused, and he got nothing to
satisfy either himself or those who sent him. While our conversation
was going on one of the officers came in, and, noticing the fellow,
called me into another room. The officer then stated that he had seen
the man hanging around West Lake Street, had seen him drunk frequently,
and had once found him in tears, saying that he had come from Paris,
had seen the downfall of the Commune there, and that now that Anarchy
was suppressed in Chicago all hope for liberty was gone, and he would
be ready to die at his own hands after he should have first killed
somebody. I returned to the office.
“See here, old fellow,” said I, “I have spies amongst the Anarchists,
but I do not want spies among my own command.”
The man was then asked if he could do any work, and when he said that
he had not done any work in a long time, I remarked that I had a job
for him. He became interested and wanted to know what kind of a job it
was.
“It is under Superintendent Felton at the House of Correction, and he
will assign you to work that will keep the dogs from biting you for six
months. You are a vagrant, and I will bring you into court to-morrow
morning and have you fined $100. That will be six months.”
The man begged piteously to be spared that punishment, and I plied
him with questions. He stated that, inasmuch as he was of the same
nationality as myself, the Anarchists thought he could readily get
into my secrets, and they had forced him to come. I told him that my
officers knew him and had him spotted, and that unless he left the city
by the next day I would have him arrested and sent to the work-house.
He left the station, and I have never seen him since. Since then I
have received a letter from Michigan, saying that if the writer had me
there I would never see Chicago again, as he would find work for me for
awhile, and I am confident that it came from my old friend.
During the progress of the investigations some curious characters were
encountered. Some sought me, as I have already noted, but in most
instances I had to hunt them. One eccentric genius was especially
noticeable. He had started out with the intention of reading himself
into the Anarchist faith, and for this purpose be became a constant
reader of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ and its Sunday edition, the _Fackel_.
For some time he wavered in his opinion, but the more he read the
more he became convinced that there was something in Anarchy. At last
he became so deeply imbued that he almost regarded it a sacrilege to
destroy the copies he had purchased for his enlightenment. He carefully
stowed the papers away in the closet in his room, and when he returned
from work he would open the door and examine his collection much as a
miser inspects his hoard.
May 4 finally came, and with it the event he had looked forward to so
longingly. But the outcome did not suit him. He noticed that the police
were getting uncomfortably close to his locality, but he did not feel
any special concern until one evening a patrol wagon pulled up in front
of No. 105 Wells Street, near his own domicile. He saw the officers
approaching in the direction of the entrance, and, jumping from his
chair near the window, shouted to his landlady:
“For heaven’s sake!—the police are coming to search the house—what
will I do? If they come into my room and find my papers, I will be
arrested and locked up as an Anarchist. Let me burn my papers in your
stove.”
The landlady would not permit it, as she feared arrest as an
accomplice. The young man almost fell on his knees in pleading with her
for permission. Finding his appeals useless, he hastened to his room,
lit a fire in a sheet-iron stove there, and began to burn his whole
collection. His haste was so great that he crammed too many papers
in at once, and the stove became overheated. The wall paper began to
burn, and the Anarchist had to give his attention to moving the bed
and furniture away from the walls. He did not dare to give an alarm
of fire, and yet he saw that the whole room would be in flames in a
few moments. He seized a pitcher of water, emptied its contents on
the wall, opened the door and called for the landlady to come to his
assistance. She responded, and when she saw the situation, she cried
out, “Fire, fire!” He endeavored to make her desist from her cries and
urged her to bring him water. Water was brought and soused all over the
stove and the walls.
By this time the house was full of smoke, and they opened the window.
An officer in the wagon noticed the smoke, and shouted to some of his
companions that there was a fire next door up-stairs. The young man
overheard this and hastened to tell the officer that it was only smoke
and that no assistance was required.
The landlady now ran away to escape possible arrest, and the young man
was left alone. He again assured the officer below that the smoke had
all cleared away, and he slammed down the window.
[Illustration: THE SCARED AMATEUR ANARCHIST.]
After thus escaping police investigation, the youthful Anarchist felt
happy, and he had reasons to be, as he would certainly have been
arrested, in view of his actions, had the officers ever entered his
room. Others had been arrested under less suspicious circumstances,
and it took some of them a long time to satisfactorily explain their
position. The young man has since become connected with a newspaper. He
may deny this in his paper, but I will never “give him away.”
While pursuing the investigations, and never losing hope of finding
Parsons, I was one day informed by Officer Henry Fechter that a man who
knew the foxy Anarchist had seen the fugitive at Geneva, Wis., and his
arrest might be easily effected. The officer was a detail at the time
at the Northwestern Railroad depot, and his informant was a reliable
gentleman. I instructed the officer to report his information to Chief
Ebersold, as I was helpless in the matter, having no authority to send
an officer outside of the city limits. That was the last I ever heard
of it. The information was evidently pigeonholed, and Parsons continued
to bask in rural sunshine and enjoy himself until the day he came
into court of his own free will. This was not the only instance of
supine neglect in the Chief’s office and the detective department. I
have already spoken of the case of Schnaubelt, the bomb-thrower, but
there is still another striking illustration. It was shortly after
the selection of a jury to try the Anarchists. The Bonfield brothers
and myself were obliged to be in court nearly all the time, and the
Anarchists on the outside, observing this, began to concoct plots for
taking revenge on the city. In this emergency the Chief decided to go
to California, and, in order that he might have cheerful company, he
invited Lieut. Joseph Kipley, of the so-called detective department,
and Capt. William Buckley, of the First Precinct.
When Mr. Grinnell heard of this contemplated trip, at a time when,
for the sake of public appearance at least, the Chief ought to have
remained at home, he firmly remonstrated and reminded the official of
his duty. But Ebersold shook his head.
“I have got my tickets,” said he; “what will I do with them?”
“Throw them into the lake,” replied Mr. Grinnell.
But the Chief was obstinate, and he and his party left for the Pacific
Coast. The force was then left in command of Inspector John Bonfield,
who thus had double duty imposed upon him.
The moment the work of impaneling the jury had begun, the outside
Anarchists began to exert themselves to put some of their own men into
the jury-box. When they found that the State was too vigilant, however,
they next set about to secure such witnesses as could be counted upon
to swear their friends out of jail. Take the evidence of the strongest
witnesses put on the stand by the defense, and the critical, unbiased
examiner will readily discover that many of them were simply perjurers.
But the labors of the reds were in vain, and when they began to realize
that the jury did not seem impressed with the character of their
evidence, the outside barbarians grew desperate and resolved on a new
line of tactics.
One day I received a note from one of my men warning me to protect the
jury. The Anarchists, he said, were working out a scheme to injure some
of the jurors, and if they could succeed in that, they were confident
the case would have to be begun anew. If the case ever came up again,
no man would care to risk his life in a trial of the conspirators, and
their brothers would go free. If, however, the State should secure a
full set of jurors, they would give them a dose of dynamite, and that
would certainly end the case. Then they could keep on with Anarchy and
make the capitalists cower before them. This plan, I was informed, had
met the entire approval of the gang.
I conferred with Mr. Grinnell, and as a result we doubled the watch to
protect the jury. We made it a point also to know when the jurors went
out for a walk or a drive, and, without their knowledge, trustworthy
men were always with them or near them until their return. The hotel
in which they were quartered was only about two hundred feet from
the Criminal Court building, but whenever they came to the court in
the morning, or went to their meals during recess, or left the court
building after each day’s adjournment, twelve detectives along the
line kept vigilant watch of all suspicious characters. Besides the
detectives there were fifteen officers in uniform, and during the last
three days of the trial we even redoubled our vigilance. There were
twenty-five officers on the street, twenty-five more in the court-room,
and twenty-five men about the building. All these men were in uniform,
so that the “cranks” could see them, and it proved to be a very good
precaution. During the night, detectives and regular patrolmen were
watching inside and outside at the jurors’ hotel.
[Illustration: WATCHING A SUSPECT.]
On the last day of the arguments, when Mr. Grinnell was closing for
the State, something very suspicious was noticed in the court-room. A
man with a very mysterious air had been seen around the building for
eight days preceding, and it was recalled that he came at varying hours
of the day. On each occasion he held a few moments’ private talk with
some of those Anarchists who had displayed interest in the proceedings,
after which he always disappeared. The parties he generally talked
with were Belz, who assisted in conducting the defense, Mrs. Parsons
and Mrs. Holmes. He was about five feet ten inches tall, about forty
years of age, weighed about 180 pounds, had a round face, short,
stubby, sandy beard and mustache, a nose built on the feminine plan,
large, gray, piercing eyes, and withal he was not a very prepossessing
man.
During the last hour, when Mr. Grinnell was making his plea to the
jury, this man entered the court-room and took a seat in the front,
right in the midst of the Anarchists’ families. This brought him within
seven or eight feet behind the State’s Attorney. He crossed his arms
over his stomach, and leaned pretty well forward, keeping his hands
concealed under his coat. I was surprised at the fellow’s impudence,
because the court-room at the time was so still that a whisper could
have been distinctly heard all over the room. I sat at a table, with
Mr. Walker to the left and Mr. Ingham to the right, and I called the
attention of these two gentlemen to the mysterious man and his queer
attitude. They watched his nervous actions, and became alarmed lest he
might be there for some vicious object. The man had indeed a desperate
look, but it was thought best not to interrupt the proceedings just
then. Under the strict orders of Judge Gary, everybody was obliged to
be seated in the court-room, and when the seats were full no more were
admitted. This was another good precaution at such a trial. The police
officials had thus a clear view of the whole room.
At times, whenever there happened to be some severe allusions to the
defendants by Mr. Grinnell, the stranger would twist himself around
uneasily, all the time, however, maintaining his peculiar attitude. Mr.
Ingham remarked that he was afraid the stranger might suddenly jump on
Mr. Grinnell and stab him in the back. Mr. Walker expressed a similar
opinion. I said that he should get no chance to do that, as I would
kill him before he could take one step toward Mr. Grinnell, and at the
same time I got my trusty 38-caliber Colt’s revolver in position where
I could produce it the instant it was needed. We all agreed that this
would be the right course to take. At one time the man looked sharply
at me, and I gave him a savage look right into his eyes. From that time
I kept him busy looking at me.
As soon as Mr. Grinnell had concluded the man jumped up, drew near
to Belz and spoke to him. Then he turned to a woman and handed her a
paper. Meanwhile I had already called a detective to watch him, and
as soon as the stranger reached the corridor he was searched. Nothing
dangerous was found about his person, but it was impossible to learn
where he lived or what was his name. He would give no account of
himself, and he was taken down stairs and kept there until all the
detectives had taken a good look at him. He was then told to go and
never show himself around the building again.
On the next morning a revolver was found in the building, and the
opinion among those posted on the affair was that it must have belonged
to the mysterious visitor. He had evidently come with a desperate
determination to shoot some one, even at the sacrifice of his own life,
but, seeing how slim were his chances for getting near his victim after
the close watch kept upon him, he abandoned his intention and dropped
his revolver to destroy any evidence against himself.
Possibly he may have been simply engaged in playing a “bluff” on his
Anarchist friends, his intention being to make them believe that he had
nerve enough to go right into a court-room and shoot down an official,
and afterwards to excuse his failure by referring to his friends for
proof that he was so closely watched that he had no opportunity to get
near his victim.
Mr. Grinnell was shortly afterwards informed of the incident, and
he remarked that possibly a “crank” might have been found by the
Anarchists to make an assault that they themselves had not the courage
to undertake.
As I have already indicated, a great many documents and letters, public
and private, fell into the hands of the police during the searches
made, and from the collection I give a few for the purpose of showing
what kind of a dynamite office was being run by Parsons and Spies.
The following was found by Detective James Bonfield on Parsons’ desk in
the _Alarm_ office, May 5, 1886:
Dealers in Marble and Granite Cemetery Work.—No. 193 Woodland Avenue,
CLEVELAND, OHIO, April 29, 1886.
_Comrade Parsons_:—Providing we send you the following dispatch:
“Another bouncing boy, weight 11 pounds, all are well—signal Fred
Smith,”—can you send us No. 1 for the amount we sent you by telegram.
Please give us your lowest estimate. Also state by what express
company you will send it to us.
Parsons had nothing to do with either handling or selling dynamite, if
his own statements are to be accepted. Still he and Spies and their
crowd seem to have had a great many inquiries for the “good stuff”
Parsons used to refer to in his speeches, and which he urged his
followers to carry in their vest pockets during the day and keep under
their pillows at night. Another evidence of their guilt was found on
the same day by Detective Bonfield in the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ office, on
Spies’ desk:
THE ÆTNA POWDER COMPANY, Works: Miller, Ind., Lake County.
_Manufacturers and Dealers._ Office: No. 98 Lake Street, Chicago.
High Explosives and Blasting Supplies.
ORDER NO. ——. _Sold to Cash._ CHICAGO, October 24, 1885.
10 lbs. No. 1, 1¼, $3.50; 100 T T caps, $1.00; 100 feet double T fuse,
75 cts.—$5.25.
Paid—Ætna Powder Company, I. F.
In justice to the company it should be explained that they had no
knowledge of the purposes for which the material was to be used.
I have already referred to the great courtesy shown Schnaubelt at the
Central Station—how, when he was brought by Officer Palmer for the
third time before Lieut. Shea and the Chief, he was promptly ordered
released, and how he finally and hastily concluded to leave the city
in order to save the detective department any further trouble on his
account. It subsequently transpired that the direction he took was
for the great and boundless West; but in all his wanderings he always
seems to have kindly remembered his friends in Chicago for permitting
him to take so extended a journey. He even wrote back to some of them,
and one letter, which, was put in the possession of Officer Palmer, is
especially worthy of publicity. It reads as follows:
PORTLAND, OREGON.
_To the Chief of Police, Chicago_—My Dear Old Jackass: Thanks to your
pig-headed lieutenant, I am here sound and safe. Before this reaches
you I have left here, and the only thing I regret is that we did not
kill more of your blue-coated hounds.
SCHNAUBELT.
The following, received by Parsons and Spies, are self-explanatory:
EUFAULA, April 13, 1886
_Dear Comrade Parsons_:—I have received your papers and am very much
obliged for them. Glad that you like my article. I am writing now for
_To-Day_, of London, and for the _Alarm_, and am going to write for
_La Tribune du Peuple de Paris_. Situated as I am now, I can be of no
good but by writing, and I intend to avail myself of it. You may be
astonished if I tell you that I never use the word “Anarchy.” I stick
to the old word “Socialism.” It can be understood and does not require
any knowledge of Greek to make out its meaning. If I was to seek in
the Greek language for a word to express where I stand, I would call
myself an Anticrat, opposed to any kind of crazy notions, democracy
as well as aristocracy. I am for individual responsibility and social
action. I am for liberty, but within society, not above it, and, first
of all, I am for equality of conditions. I want organization first,
revolution second, social economy reorganization third, and abolition
of governmental action last of all. If you could confiscate the
government to-morrow, I would have no objection to use it for a while.
Anarchism has a very dangerous drift toward individualism, as you may
perceive by reading _Liberty_, of Boston, and individualism is bound
to generate some kind of a crazy notion and end in despotism. Beware
of individualistic Anarchism and stick to the socialistic.
We are in a state of warfare with all the crazes and must use all the
weapons of warfare within our reach. Our present weapons—strikes and
boycotting—are dangerous, and expulsive if we were to use the ballot.
The workers are the many; the masters the few. Before upsetting the
government, let us try to use it. Mayors, councilmen, aldermen,
governors, and so forth, have a good deal to say about how the police
and militia shall be used, and judges have a good deal to say when
workingmen are prosecuted for claiming their rights. Could not the
workers organize to conquer these offices? What do you think of that?
What do you think of that?
Salute and Fraternity.
FREDERIC TAFFERD.
* * * * *
WHAT CHEER, KEOKUK COUNTY, IOWA, April 18, 1886.
_A. R. Parsons, Esq._—Dear Sir: We organized a group of the Lehr und
Wehr Verein in this town on the above date. The organizer was your
comrade John McGinn, of Rock Spring, Wyoming. Inclosed you will find
the amount for the cards—names as follows:
John H. Nicholson, miner; age, 41
Arthur Cowrey, ” ” 42
William Morgan, ” ” 34
Isaac Little, ” ” 39
Benjamin E. Williams, ” ” 37
William Jackson, ” ” 39
John McGinn, ” ” 29
William H. Osborne, ” ” 36
John R. Thomas, ” ” 33
I suppose you will need to know who is chief and secretary of the
group. John McGinn is chief and John H. Nicholson is the secretary.
I remain yours, in the care of John H. Nicholson, What Cheer, Keokuk
County, Iowa, Box 697.
* * * * *
ST. LOUIS, March 27, 1886.
_Mrs. and Mr. Parsons_:—We were quite sorry to learn of your
sickness, which prevented you to be with us at the Commune Festival,
while we were just as glad to see that Mrs. Parsons did accept our
invitation. My hope and wish that you are well again for the present.
The Commune Festival was well attended by a large crowd, and it was a
great disappointment for the J. W. P. A. being forced to announce the
absence of the English speaker. I am quite aware that it would have
been a great lift for our principles if Mrs. Parsons could have been
present. However, St. Louis is not Chicago, and the movement is not as
well progressing as in Chicago. No wonder. I have been teached lately
a lesson myself, and therefore withdraw as a member of the group. We
herewith send you a little collection of picture cards, which Mary
had saved up for your children. We intended to send them along with
Mrs. Parsons. Mary has already two large scrap-books full of such
collections. Hail for the revolution.
Yours respectfully,
J. M. MENTYER.
P. S.—If you have any old _Alarms_ to spare, I would make good use
of them at present during this railroad strike. I shall soon send
some money again. I also send you the _Chronicle_ so you can see what
declaration the Knights of Labor have issued in answer to Monster
Robber Gould.
* * * * *
Personal. PORT JARVIS, N. Y., October 31, 1885.
_My Dear Comrade_:—Well, I will stay here, as I wrote you. I started
out on a “tramp” to look for a job. I stayed nearly a week at New
Haven and spoke there, though why Liberty should head his letter from
there “Unfortunate for Herr Most,” is more than I can see. I came
here and looked up an old friend, John G. Mills. He proposed starting
a small job book-bindery. He puts in capital and I the skill. That
seems fair; while I will be sure of a mere living for the winter,
there is no guarantee that capital will gain by it. So the timidity
of capital must be overcome. Well, the bargain is this: When I pay
back the advance capital (and until I do so I am not to draw in amount
over $5.00 a week), paid it all, then I am to own half and we will
start equal partners, and he furnishes more capital if necessary on
half paid back. I have agreed, as I believe it is the best I can do,
and it opens a good prospect. It is probable that I will not be very
active in “the cause” here, as every moment will be occupied, but I
am willing to go anywhere within reasonable distance this winter and
give a lecture to any group for mere expenses—car-fare and board—and
believe I could stir up the boys. New Jersey, Pennsylvania and New
York, all three join together here, and any of the three States would
be convenient. I should give a lecture rather than a speech, but it
would be _extempore_. Can’t you drop a line to Philadelphia, or some
point near? Buffalo is nearly as near.
When I feel like giving you an article I shall mail it, but, of
course, you will use it or lay it over as you feel about it. I think I
can put a point strongly, but do not want to crowd out anything else.
If you can use me on your paper, draw on me for all the copy you like.
I like the Alarm and think it has improved since last spring. Any
points I can get from French papers, I will give you the benefit of. I
never got that card. Is it contrary to custom?
Yours truly,
LUM.