Completing the Case—Looking for Lingg—The Bomb-maker’s Birth—Was
he of Royal Blood?—A Romantic Family History—Lingg and his
Mother—Captured Correspondence—A Desperate and Dangerous
Character—Lingg Disappears—A Faint Trail Found—Looking for Express
Wagon 1999—The Number that Cost the Fugitive his Life—A Desperado
at Bay—Schuettler’s Death Grapple—Lingg in the Shackles—His
Statement at the Station—The Transfer to the Jail—Lingg’s Love
for Children—The Identity of his Sweetheart—An Interview with
Hubner—His Confession—The Meeting at Neff’s Place
WITH the information already obtained we had managed to secure a
pretty clear insight into the diabolical plots of the “revolutionary
groups.” It was apparent that Chicago had been regarded by Anarchists
everywhere as the head center of Socialism in America, and that it had
been decided that here should be the first test of strength in the
establishment of the new social order. Any reasoning, sentient being
ought to have seen the utter folly of such an undertaking in the very
midst of millions of liberty-loving, law-abiding citizens, but these
Anarchists, hypnotized as they were by the plausible sophisms and the
inflammatory writings of unscrupulous men bent on notoriety, could view
it in no other light than as a grand stride towards their goal. As boys
are led astray by yellow-covered literature, these poor fools were
crazed by Anarchistic vaporings. Day or night, sleeping or waking, the
beauties of the new social order to be inaugurated by the revolution
were continually before their minds.
It was clear that such people were capable of desperate deeds, and that
it was not only necessary to bring to justice the instigators of the
massacre, but to show their deluded followers the inevitable result of
carrying out ideas repugnant to our free institutions and inconsistent
with common sense and right.
With so many facts before us, we redoubled our efforts to capture every
dangerous Anarchist leader in the city, and the next one to fall into
the toils was no less a personage than the bomb-maker, Louis Lingg.
This notorious Anarchist came to Chicago when about twenty-one years
of age. He had learned the carpenter’s trade in Germany, and when not
engaged in spreading Anarchy’s doctrines, he pursued that calling to
liquidate his board bills and personal expenses. He was a tall, lithe,
well-built, handsome fellow, and, while not of a nervous disposition,
his nature was so active and aggressive that he never appeared at
rest. Sleeping or waking, Anarchy and the most effective methods of
establishing it were uppermost in his thoughts. By reason of his very
restlessness it was not difficult to trace him in Socialistic circles
when on his tours of agitation, and it was noticeable, too, that he
never remained at any one point for any regular length of time. His
make-up was a queer combination of nerve, energy and push. His mind
seemed always weighted with some great burden. Perhaps there was a
reason for this not alone in his radical beliefs, but in his blood and
birth.
[Illustration: LOUIS LINGG, THE BOMB-MAKER.
From a Photograph taken by the Police.]
Louis Lingg was born in Schwetzingen, Germany, on the 9th day of
September, 1864, and, while his childhood was spent pleasantly enough,
a cloud gradually gathered which overshadowed his life and embittered
him against society. His mother, at the age of eighteen or twenty, had
worked as a servant, and, possessing a very handsome face, a shapely
figure and attractive manners, had caught the eye of a Hessian soldier
in the dragoons. This man was young, dashing and handsome, and mutual
admiration soon ripened into undue intimacy. One day the soldier left
town on short notice—whether because of military orders or through
his own inclination is not known. It is certain, however, that she
never heard of him from that day, and that a son was born to her out of
wedlock. That son was Louis Lingg. The name of that dragoon has never
been made public, but it is believed with reason that Lingg was born of
royal blood.
Several years after her escapade the mother wedded a lumber-worker
named Link. Louis was then four years old. When young Lingg had
arrived at the age of twelve, his foster-father, while engaged in his
occupation of floating logs down the river Main, contracted heart
disease, through over-exposure, and died. The widow was left in poor
circumstances, and she was obliged to do washing and ironing in order
to support herself and family, a daughter named Elise having been born
since her marriage.
Louis, in the course of years, grew strong, robust and muscular. He
had received a fair education, and, desiring to relieve his mother’s
burdens as much as possible, he learned the carpenter’s trade under the
tutelage of a man named Louis Wuermell in Mannheim. He remained there
until May 13, 1879, and then, quitting his apprenticeship, proceeded
to Kehl, on the Rhine. There he found employment with a man named
Schmidt until the fall of 1882. He next went to Freiburg, in the Grand
Duchy of Baden, where he worked for several contractors. At this place
he began to change his employment frequently, and his mother, learning
of it, wrote several letters, in which she advised him against such a
course and admonished him to become a good man, to save his money and
keep out of bad company, so that he might become useful to himself and
to society and make her proud of him. But the son did not heed this
motherly advice. He fell in with free-thinkers who were set against
religion in particular and against society in general, and soon began
reading and absorbing Socialistic literature. It was not long before he
became an avowed Socialist, attending Socialistic meetings and eagerly
listening to all the speeches.
[Illustration: LINGG’S TRUNK.
From a Photograph.]
Finally young Lingg grew weary of Baden and wandered to the republic of
Switzerland. Here he spent the fall of 1883 at Luzerne, working at his
trade with a man named Rickley, but his roving nature soon brought him
to Zurich.
It was there that he met the famous Anarchist Reinsdorf, and for this
man he speedily formed a warm attachment. While in Zurich Lingg also
affiliated with a German Socialistic society called “Eintracht,” and
threw his whole soul into the cause. After a time he turned up at
Aarau, but here he was unable to find employment and had to write
home for assistance. The mother loved her son dearly, despite his
wanderings, and he did not appeal to her in vain. She wrote him
enclosing a small sum of money to help him bridge over his idleness,
and at the same time informed him that she had again married (August
6, 1884), her second husband’s name being Christian Gaddum. This man
had been a neighbor of the family at Mannheim for years. In writing to
her son, Mrs. Link indicated that the marriage was not prompted by love
or admiration, but came about on account of her feeble health and her
desire to secure support for herself and her daughter. Louis’ mother
had frequently expressed a wish that he visit home, but, as the boy had
now reached the age for military service under the German Government,
he concluded to remain away, and in casting about for a permanent
location he decided to emigrate to America. He presented the matter to
his mother. At first she opposed it, but finally gave her consent.
With what money he secured from his mother and from his friends, he
proceeded to Havre, France, in June, 1885, and boarded a steamer for
the United States.
After the wayward boy had left home, he and his mother corresponded
regularly. She always expressed deep solicitude for his welfare, and
when he was in financial distress she would write him: “Dear Louis, I
will share with you as long as I have a bite in the house.” All her
letters breathed encouragement; she sent money frequently, although at
times in need herself, and concluded invariably by giving good counsel
and urging Louis to write her soon and often. When Lingg had arrived in
the United States the fond mother wrote him that she would soon be able
to send him money enough to come home on a visit.
That Lingg had great love and affection for his mother is evidenced by
the fact that he had carefully preserved all her letters from the time
of his leaving home until he died a suicide’s death. From these letters
it appears also that Lingg had several lady admirers at home.
[Illustration: COILS OF FUSE.
Found in the secret bottom of Lingg’s Trunk.
From a Photograph.]
There were many expressions, such as “kindest regards” or “heartiest
respects,” conveyed to him by his mother on behalf of this or that
lady friend. Another fact made apparent by the letters was that there
was some great burden on his mind. It would seem that he had plied
his mother with many questions respecting his birth. That seemed a
dark spot in his life. He wanted a solution as well as satisfaction.
This worried the mother, but she always managed to give him some
consolation, saying she “would guard against everything” and have “all
things set right.” In one of her letters occurs the following:
As regards your birth, it grieves me that you mention it. While
you did not know it before, I will now say that you were born in
Schwetzingen on the 9th day of September, 1864, at your grandfather’s
house, and baptized. Where your father is I don’t know. My father
did not want me to marry him because he did not desire me to follow
him into Hessia, and as he had no real estate he could not marry me
in Schwetzingen according to our laws. He left and went, I do not
know where. If you want a certificate of birth you can get it at
Schwetzingen any time. If you make a proper presentation everything
will be all right, but don’t hold on six months.
The original of the above, which is in German and which was found in
Lingg’s trunk, had no signature. Another letter regarding his paternity
reads as follows, showing that Lingg’s mind had been sorely distressed
over the matter:
MANNHEIM, June 29, 1884.
_Dear Louis_:—You must have waited a long time for an answer. John
said to Elise that I had not yet replied to your last letter. The
officials of the court you cannot push. For my part I would have been
better pleased if they had hurried up, because it would have saved
you a great deal of time. But now I am glad that it has finally been
accomplished. After a great deal of toil, I put myself out to go to
Schwetzingen and see about the certificate of your birth. I know you
will be glad and satisfied to learn that you carry the name of Lingg.
This is better than to have children with two different names. He had
you entered as a legitimate child before we got married. I think this
was the best course, so that you will not worry and reproach me. Such
a certificate of birth is no disgrace, and you can show it. I felt
offended that you took no notice of the “confirmation.” Elise had
everything nice. Her only wish was to receive some small token from
Louis, which would have pleased her more than anything else. When she
came from church, the first thing she asked for was as to a letter
or card from you, but we had to be contented with the thought that
perhaps you did not think of us. Now it is all past.... I was very
much troubled that it has taken so long [to procure certificate], but
I could not help it. I have kept my promise, and you cannot reproach
me. Everything is all right, and we are all well and working. I
hope to hear the same from you. It would not be so bad if you wrote
oftener. I have had to do a great many things for you the last
eighteen years, but with a mother you can do as you please—neglect
her and never answer her letters.
The certificate sent him reads as follows:
CERTIFICATE OF BIRTH.
No. 9,681.
Ludwig Link, legitimate son of Philipp Friedrich Link and of Regina
Von Hoefler, was born at Schwetzingen, on the ninth (9th) day of
September, 1864. This is certified according to the records of the
Evangelical Congregation of Schwetzingen.
SCHWETZINGEN, May 24, 1884.
[SEAL.]
County Court: CLURICHT.
To the letter of Mrs. Link, given above, no signature appears, but that
is not strange. What seems more singular is that, whenever her letters
were signed, they closed with simply “Your Mother.” Another thing
appears from the above, and that is that at home Louis’ name was Link.
Other documents, some of them legal, also found in his trunk, show that
his name was formerly written Link. His name must have been changed
shortly before leaving Europe or just after reaching the United States.
It would seem that, with such a certificate, Lingg would have
been measurably happy, but the fact of his illegitimacy, despite
court records, rankled in his blood. The thought of it haunted
him continually, and no doubt it helped to make him in religion a
free-thinker, in theory a free-lover, and in practice an implacable
enemy of existing society. His mother’s letters showed that she wished
him to be a good man, and it was no fault of her early training that
he subsequently became an Anarchist. She still lives at the old place,
and when Lieut. Baus, of the Chicago police force, was on a visit to
Mannheim, some time ago, he called on her and found her very pleasant
and affable in her manner, with a strong, robust constitution, and
still a good-looking woman.
No sooner had Lingg reached Chicago than he looked up the haunts of
Socialists and Anarchists. He made their acquaintance, learned the
strength of the order in the city as well as in the United States, and
was highly gratified. At that time the organization was not only strong
in numbers, but it fairly “smelt to heaven” in its rankness of doctrine.
Lingg was not required to look around very hard for the haunts of
Anarchy, for a blind man could plainly see, feel and smell the disease
in the air. Lingg arrived here only eight or nine months before the
eventful 4th of May, but in that short time he succeeded in making
himself the most popular man in Anarchist circles. No one had created
such a _furore_ since 1872, when Socialism had its inception in the
city.
[Illustration: COMPOSITION BOMB.
Found in Lingg’s room, ready for use.]
The first organization to which Lingg attached himself was the
International Carpenters’ Union No. 1. Every member of this society
was a rabid Anarchist. All of them had supplied themselves with arms,
and a majority of them drilled in military tactics. Lingg had not been
connected with the organization long before he became a recognized
leader and made speeches that enthused them all. While young in years,
they recognized in him a worthy leader, and the fact that he had sat at
the very feet of Reinsdorf as a pupil elevated him in their estimation.
This distinction, added to his personal magnetism, made him the subject
for praise and comment, which pleased his vanity and spurred his
ambition.
Men longer in the service and more familiar with the local and
general phases of Anarchy at times reluctantly yielded to him where
points of policy were at stake. No committee was regarded as complete
without him, and this brought him in contact with August Spies and
Albert Parsons. He was often at the office of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_,
which was the headquarters of the governing body, with reports and
suggestions, and by his admirable tact soon won their esteem and good
graces. He there also made the acquaintance of Fielden, Fischer,
Schnaubelt, Rau, Neebe, Schwab, and of some of the more noted women in
the Anarchist movement. He was frequently complimented for his work
and became quite a favorite with the ladies.
When Lingg first became actively identified with the party of
assassination and annihilation here, he was cautious and secretive.
He knew that secrecy in the old country was not only essential to
success, but absolutely requisite for self-preservation. He supposed
that the same sort of tactics prevailed here, but when he saw how bold,
aggressive and open were the utterances of the Anarchists in Chicago
and elsewhere, he came to believe that the government and the municipal
administration existed simply through their sufferance. At first,
whenever Lingg was doubtful on any point, he would seek knowledge and
inspiration from Spies, and it was through Spies that he gained his
information of the movement in the United States. They became firm
friends, and Lingg implicitly believed everything Spies told him, and
looked, as he informed the police officers, upon every line published
in the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ as absolutely true and correct. While not
able to read English, he regarded all papers printed in that language,
as well as in the German, not of the Socialistic faith, as published
for the benefit of capitalists and millionaires. They were all, in his
estimation, stupendous frauds, and existed simply because they printed
such lies as pleased the rich and those in power. Being a man of
sincere convictions and earnest zeal, Lingg won the confidence of his
confrères and always knew just what was going to be done and how it was
to be accomplished. He was a faithful ally and was invariably counted
upon to take a leading part in all the movements of the reds. How he
was regarded by his fellows in this respect is shown in the fact that
to him was intrusted the task of organizing the people of the Southwest
Side and directing their plans against the McCormick factory.
[Illustration: CAST-IRON AND LARGE GAS-PIPE BOMBS.
From Photographs.
The long bomb in center weighs five lbs., and was thrown at a patrol
wagon on Blue Island Avenue, but failed to explode. The round bombs
were lined on the inside with a coating of cement saturated with a
deadly poison.]
His communications, which I have given in a prior chapter, to the
Bohemians and others in that locality, show that he was bent on riot
and destruction, and in that mad and frenzied movement he had the
hearty coöperation of the colleagues who had with him concocted it at
the office of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_. They alone knew of it, and worked
out the details at a meeting held near the factory on the 3d of May.
Lingg, being braver and more daring than the other leaders, was the
chosen instrument to inspire the men to an attack upon the works, and
he subsequently claimed that he had been clubbed by the police during
the affray.
During the turbulent and momentous days preceding May 4, Lingg’s
comrades saddled upon him a great responsibility, but he never
flinched. On the contrary, he proved the mettle of his make-up, not
only volunteering to carry out certain ends he himself outlined, but
cheerfully assuming every task imposed upon him and always willing to
take all responsibility for the consequences. He was found on the North
Side actively engaged in calling Anarchists to arms, on the Southwest
Side endeavoring to form a compact body of fighters in view of the near
approach of May 1; he was busy at Seliger’s house constructing bombs,
and at meetings giving instructions how to make infernal machines. His
work was never finished, and never neglected. At one time he taught his
followers how to handle the bombs so that they would not explode in
their hands, and showed the time and distance for throwing the missiles
with deadly effect; at another he drilled those who were to do the
throwing, instructing them how to surround themselves with friends so
that detection by an enemy would be impossible.
[Illustration: GAS-PIPE BOMBS.
Found in Lingg’s Room. From a Photograph.]
All these things kept him busy, but his whole soul was in the work. He
was not alone a bomb-maker; he also constituted himself an agent to
sell arms. He sold a great many large revolvers and rifles. This is
shown by a note found in his trunk, addressed to Abraham Hermann. It
reads as follows:
_Friend_:—I sold three revolvers during the last two days, and I will
sell three more to-day (Wednesday). I sell them from $6.00 to $7.80
apiece.
Respectfully and best regards,
L. LINGG.
At this time Hermann was the general agent in this city for buying and
selling arms to the Anarchists. Engel had been an agent at one time,
but the men claimed that he had fleeced them, and he was dropped.
Lingg thus proved himself a very useful man to the order. He could make
an effective speech; he was a good organizer; he could make bombs with
dynamite whose power had been enhanced manifold through his skill;
he would carry hand-bills, and he would do anything to help along the
cause. In truth, he was the shiftiest as well as the most dangerous
Anarchist in all Chicago.
[Illustration: GAS-PIPE BOMBS, WITHOUT FUSE.
Found in Lingg’s Room.]
Having been a pupil of Reinsdorf, Lingg was an opponent of all
peaceable agitation. He believed in organizing armed forces and
conquering everything by main force. He had no love at all for those
who talked peaceable agitation; he called them fools and cranks. Of
this class were the old-time Socialists, and he looked upon them with
haughty disdain. He found better material to work on for helping him in
the revolution he proposed, and, although he molded many an Anarchist
out of the softer clay of humanity, still he was not satisfied, but
complained continually that they did not move fast enough, did not take
hold with celerity and failed to develop such heroic qualities as he
wished to see. The restless spirit within him, his implacable hatred
of society, tinged with the bitterness of his doubtful birth, and his
strong impulses manifested themselves in all his acts and utterances.
An illustration of these traits is the impatience he exhibited over the
failure of trusted men to come early to the house of Seliger to secure
bombs on the evening of May 4, and his departure with the bombs to
Neff’s Hall to have them speedily distributed. Another example is found
in the bitter reproaches he heaped on those who had failed to carry out
their part after the inauguration of the Haymarket riot. His hopes, his
ambitions, had been set on the successful consummation of that plot. It
was to have overthrown all government and all law, which he declared
were good enough for old women to prevent them from quarreling, but
needless for men of intelligence and independence.
For four weeks prior to the 4th of May he was out of work, but he
was by no means idle. He worked early and late attending meetings
and making bombs, so that, the moment the signal for the general
revolution was given, every member of the armed sections might be
supplied with the destructive agent. He wanted the whole city blown
up, every capitalist wiped off the face of the earth; and he and his
trusted comrades, Sunday after Sunday, in anticipation of the uprising,
practiced in the suburbs with rifles and 44-caliber revolvers.
Lingg became the most expert of them all and was looked upon by his
associates as a crack shot.
Lingg’s money and time were freely given to the purchase of arms and
to the manufacture of dynamite bombs. His room at Seliger’s became
a veritable arsenal, and, the more deadly “stuff” he brought into
the house, the more pleased he became, and the more bitter grew the
enmity of Mrs. Seliger toward him. How careful and elaborate were
his preparations for the coming day is not only shown by the deadly
implements found in his room, but is evidenced in the statements of
his trusted lieutenants. These statements—made to me by men anxious
to save themselves, prostrate suppliants for mercy, whose every
material revelation was corroborative of the others, although given
independently and under different circumstances and without knowledge
of what others had said—unmistakably pointed to a most gigantic
conspiracy. Read any of these statements, and no doubt can exist that,
had it not been for the hand of Providence on the night of May 4,
thousands of people would have been killed and vast districts of the
city laid waste. Lingg expected it as certainly as he believed in his
own existence at the time, and his intimate comrades bent all their
energy in the direction of carrying out the villainous plot.
[Illustration: UNFINISHED GAS-PIPE BOMBS.
Found in Lingg’s Dinner-Box. From a Photograph.]
But “the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley,” and the
Haymarket riot proved a most bitter disappointment. Lingg was fairly
beside himself with chagrin and mortification. The one consuming desire
of his life had utterly and signally failed of realization. He clearly
foresaw dire trouble in consequence of the attempt, and his mind was
bewildered with perplexities as to his future movements. On the night
of May 4, about 11:30 o’clock, when the full truth of the failure of
the riot had flashed upon him, he stood in front of No. 58 Clybourn
Avenue, not knowing exactly whither to turn for refuge from possible
arrest, and, while in this dilemma, he broached the subject to Seliger,
finally asking to be permitted to remain at the house over night until
next morning, when he promised he would move away. He was without a
cent in his pocket, having squandered all his money in the manufacture
of bombs, confident of plenty when he and his fellows had secured
control of the city. Seliger, knowing his condition, finally consented.
The next morning came, but Lingg manifested no disposition to carry out
his promise.
“I would move from here now,” said he, very adroitly, “but if I do so
it would create suspicion.”
Seliger saw the force of the argument, and, being implicated also in
the manufacture of bombs, shrewdly concluded to let him remain until
matters quieted down. Lingg accordingly remained until the 7th of May.
On this date officers began to appear in the vicinity, looking into
the haunts and resorts of Anarchists. This startled Lingg, and, lest
they might pounce down upon his room, he decided to speedily vacate the
premises. He did move, but with such haste that he left his implements
of destruction and nearly all his personal effects behind him. When the
house was finally searched the “bird had flown.”
I sent out eight good detectives, and kept them working night and day
looking for the bomb-maker, but no one could furnish a clue. It was
learned that Lingg had a sweetheart, and her movements were closely
watched. The houses of his known friends were also watched, and all his
acquaintances shadowed. Anarchists who had hopes of saving their own
necks if he could be found were pressed into the service, and decoy
letters were sent out. Money was even held out as an inducement to
divulge his hiding-place, but all to no purpose.
These expedients were kept up until the 13th of May, when I sent for
Mrs. Seliger to ascertain where Lingg had last been employed and secure
the addresses of all his friends. Nearly all the places she mentioned
had been visited, but she spoke of one place that seemed to me to hold
out some promise of a successful result. Mrs. Seliger stated that there
was a place near the river, where there was a bridge that she had heard
spoken of, and that Lingg had said to her husband that he would call
on a friend of his near that place, on Canal Street. This place I at
once recognized as being only a few blocks from the shop where Lingg
had worked. Mrs. Seliger further stated that her husband had told her
that this shop was only a few blocks from a Catholic church. All this
I regarded as a good clue, and Officers Loewenstein and Schuettler
were promptly detailed to follow it up—first going, however, to a
planing-mill on Twelfth and South Clark Streets to ascertain if Lingg
had ever worked there.
The officers carried out these instructions, and a few hours later they
returned to the office, their faces wreathed in smiles. They informed
me that they had secured a clue, that only a few days before Lingg had
sent there for his tool chest, and that they had learned of a man who
had noticed the number of the express wagon that had carted it away.
But this man, they said, they would be unable to see until the next day.
Bright and early the next morning the officers started out with new
instructions and visited the house of the person who had so singularly
taken note of the express number. They found him, and he gave them all
the information he possessed. About eleven o’clock the officers found
the residence of the expressman, whose name was Charles Keperson and
whose wagon was numbered 1,999. He lived at No. 1095 Robey Street. The
officers rapped on the door, and a little girl about ten years of age
answered. On being asked after her father she informed them that he was
not at home. They inquired if her father had not brought in a trunk.
She replied that her father had brought no trunk into their house, but
he had hauled a tool chest from down town, which he had taken to a
house on an adjoining street. She pointed out a little cottage at No.
80 Ambrose Street, and on being asked if she had seen her father take
it there she answered:
“Oh, yes, it was a gray-colored box, and I heard my father say it
belonged to Louis Lingg.”
[Illustration: LINGG’S REVOLVER.
Cocked as found when wrested from Lingg’s hands after the struggle with
Officer Schuettler.
From a Photograph.]
The officers went over to the cottage and learned that a family named
Klein lived there. Schuettler knocked on the door, and Mrs. Klein
responded. He asked if Louis was at home. She replied that he was not
and that he had gone out with some gentlemen about nine o’clock. She
inquired what he desired to see Louis for, and Schuettler told her
that he owed Louis $3 and had come to pay him. He further informed
her that they were good friends, both carpenters, and belonged to the
same union. She inquired after his name, and Schuettler responded
that it was “Franz Lorenz.” Lorenz was a well known Anarchist, and
it was thought the name would prove effective in winning the woman’s
confidence. She said that her father lived only a short distance from
the house, and she would step over and ask him if he knew where Louis
had gone. This conversation had taken place in a rear room of the
house. The woman excused herself, and ostensibly started for the house
of her father. She passed into the front room and slammed the outer
door. Loewenstein stepped out of the back room to see if she had really
gone, but he saw no Mrs. Klein. At the same time he noticed Lingg’s
chest standing on the rear porch, covered with a piece of carpet.
Loewenstein returned, and he had hardly joined Schuettler when Mrs.
Klein stepped in. She said she had seen her father, but that he did not
know where Louis had gone. The officers were suspicious, of course,
but they said nothing, simply withdrawing with the assurance that they
would call again and see Lingg some other time.
After leaving, the officers walked for two blocks and talked over
the mysterious actions of Mrs. Klein. They concluded to go back and
search the house. They secured entrance from the rear, and, while
Loewenstein guarded the front door, Schuettler entered the rear room.
There he found a man smoothly shaven. Lingg had been described as
having chin whiskers. Schuettler stepped up to the man, however, and
asked his name. In an instant Lingg—for it was none other—whipped out
a 44-caliber revolver, which he had had concealed in front inside his
trousers, and, with the glare of a tiger held at bay, he turned on the
officer. Schuettler saw the movement, and, quick as a flash, sprang
on Lingg and seized the weapon. They clinched, and while the one was
struggling to save himself and secure his prisoner, the other was
bent upon killing the officer and effecting his own escape. Both were
strong, muscular and active, and the cottage shook from foundation to
rafters as the bodies of the contestants swayed in the equal contest.
Lingg quivered with rage and aroused himself to his utmost to vanquish
the foe. He realized that the result meant life or death. At one moment
his revolver was pressed close to the officer’s breast, and with a
superhuman effort the Anarchist tried to send a bullet on its fatal
mission. But Schuettler had a firm grasp of the cylinder and wrenched
the weapon aside. In another second, while the mastery was still
undecided, Lingg, by a quick movement of his hand, brought the revolver
square into the officer’s face. At that moment, however, Schuettler
managed to get Lingg’s thumb between his teeth. The Anarchist made a
sudden dash to release his thumb and succeeded in breaking loose.
All this took place in less time than it takes to tell it. The moment
Lingg was foot-loose, Schuettler found time to shout for his companion,
who had stood on the outside in front of the house, all unconscious
of the short but desperate struggle within. Loewenstein did not stop
a moment to determine what was wanted, but sprang into the room. He
entered just at the moment when Schuettler had bounded after Lingg
on his release and found him holding Lingg tightly by the throat
with one hand and the revolver with the other. Loewenstein saw the
situation at a glance, and, raising his loaded cane, brought it down
on the Anarchist’s head. This stunned Lingg, and he was overpowered.
The revolver was wrenched from his hand and placed on a table, and
the officers adjusted the handcuffs. These had no sooner been placed
in position than Lingg made a sudden dash for his revolver. But the
detectives were too quick for him.
Lingg’s teeth gnashed with rage, and his eyes fairly bulged from their
sockets with savage scorn. The arch-Anarchist looked the picture of
desperation. He had been vanquished, however, and he saw that further
resistance was useless.
Mrs. Klein had meanwhile been an excited spectator, but before she
could collect her thoughts and decide what course to take under the
circumstances, Lingg was in the power of the law. Seeing this, she
hurried out. It was not long before the whole neighborhood heard of
what had happened, and, as the officers started to take their prisoner
to the Hinman Street Station, a true-hearted Irish-American came up,
accosted them and said:
“My dear boys, your lives are in danger here. Nearly every one who
lives about here is an Anarchist. Wait for a minute, and I will give
you protection.”
[Illustration: A DESPERATE STRUGGLE. LOUIS LINGG’S ARREST.]
He disappeared, but meanwhile the street had become crowded with an
excited populace. He soon returned with a double-barreled shot-gun,
ready for action in case of emergency. No sooner had he placed himself
at the disposal of the officers than a loyal Bohemian-American came
running across the street, and said:
“Officers, I will also protect you against this mob.”
He had in his hand a large navy revolver, and he showed that he was
ready to assist the officers, even at the cost of his own life.
Schuettler and Loewenstein, under this volunteer escort, marched Lingg
to the Hinman Street Station, reaching there about twelve o’clock.
Sergeant Enwright was in charge of the station that day, and, lest
any attempt at rescue might be made, he called in all his officers
and gave them instructions as to what should be done to protect the
station. He also ordered out the patrol wagon, and detailed five
officers to accompany Schuettler and Loewenstein to the Klein residence
to investigate the premises. They made a thorough search, but could
discover nothing except a lot of cartridges. They also investigated
the houses at Nos. 64, 66, 68 and 70 on the same street, all occupied
by Anarchists, but they found nothing. The presence of the police,
however, speedily cleared the street, and all the low-browed,
shaggy-haired followers of the red flag hunted their holes. Schuettler
and Loewenstein then sent for the Chicago Avenue patrol wagon and
transferred Lingg to new quarters at that station. On the way Lingg
continually ground his teeth, and, looking savagely at Schuettler and
turning slightly towards Loewenstein, hissed out:
“If I had only got half a chance at that fellow, he would be a dead man
now.”
The officers of the Hinman Street Station did not relax their vigilance
over Ambrose Street, and one day some molds made of clay were found in
the alley in the rear of the Klein residence, proving that Lingg had
not abandoned hope, but was getting ready to prepare a new supply of
bombs for a future attack.
When Lingg had been ushered into the office of the East Chicago Avenue
Station, the shackles were removed from his wrists, and he was given a
chair. He became quiet in his new surroundings, and grudgingly answered
a few simple questions. His thumb giving him considerable pain, some
liniment was procured from a neighboring drug store, and the wound
dressed. He was then assigned to an apartment below, and left to his
own thoughts.
In the afternoon he was brought up to the office.
“What is your name?” I asked him.
“Lingg,” curtly replied the prisoner.
“Ah, yes; but how do you spell it?”
“L-i-n-gg,” came the spelling.
“Yes; but give us your full name.”
“It is Louis or Ludwig Lingg. I am twenty-one years and eight months
old.”
He was asked a great many questions. Some he refused to answer, and
others he answered promptly and with pleasure, especially when they
touched on killing capitalists and capitalistic editors, as he called
them. He had no use, he said, for these people, and thought that
if they could be taken away suddenly the world would be satisfied
and happy. He remarked that he did not blame the police very much,
because they were workingmen themselves, but there was one officer, he
said, that he perfectly despised. It was John Bonfield. If he could
have blown him to atoms, he thought, he might become reconciled to
a great many things as they then existed. He finally gave to me and
to Assistant State’s Attorney Furthmann, in the presence of Officers
Stift, Rehm, Loewenstein, Schuettler and Hoffman, a brief account of
himself and his movements, but he said that he would rather die than
give information against any one. He did not deny what others had
stated about him, but further he would not go. He was informed by Mr.
Furthmann how strict the law was against conspiracies, but the only
answer he vouchsafed was that the laws would not remain in force much
longer; that the working people would make laws to suit themselves,
and they would not allow any higher power to dictate to them. For
his own part, he could work and was willing to work, he said, but he
wanted his share of the profits. He thought the police had made fools
of themselves in the movement the Anarchists had inaugurated. If they
had only known enough, he said, to have held back, the capitalists
would have been forced to submit; but now the police had spoiled their
own chances for gain for years to come. They would be sorry for it, he
added. If the Anarchists had won in Chicago, he further stated, all the
other large cities would have fallen into line, and wretchedness and
poverty would have been banished forever.
[Illustration: IRON BOLT FOUND IN LINGG’S TRUNK. FROM A PHOTOGRAPH.
Designed, according to Lingg’s own statement, to connect the halves of
a composition bomb weighing twelve pounds. “The Haymarket bomb,” said
he, “killed six. The one which I was going to make with that bolt would
kill six dozen.” Four such bolts were found.]
After Lingg had been taken away from the Ambrose Street house, Gustav
and Kate Klein became anxious about their friend. They traced him to
the Chicago Avenue Station and called there later in the day, after
his arrest. When they reached the office I questioned them, although
they were not under arrest, and they answered without hesitancy. They
stated that Lingg had come to their house on the 7th of May, and had
remained indoors nearly all the time up to his arrest that day—May 14.
He had only been out twice to secure books from some neighbors, and he
had felt measurably safe in the locality. This section, it was found,
as already stated, was a hotbed of Anarchy, and as the neighbors knew
the man, they were anxious to protect him. It had even been whispered
in the locality that he was the one who had thrown the bomb at the
Haymarket, but, knowing that he was a man not to be trifled with, and
out of sympathy for the cause, none would betray him. He could not have
selected a better place for concealment. Mr. Klein had known him for
some time and had noticed a great change in him since the Haymarket
bloodshed.
“He was always cheerful,” he said, “up to that time, but since then he
acted very strangely. He would not converse with any one, but always
sought to be alone. Whenever any one came near the house he was uneasy.”
“I noticed that too,” interposed Mrs. Klein. “He always used to fool
and play with me before the Haymarket event, and was good company, but
since then he was a changed man altogether.”
Mrs. Klein described the scene of Lingg’s arrest, and told how at
first she had regarded it simply as fun between two friends, and how
frightened she had become when she discovered that it was a serious
affair. She also described the terrible look which came over Lingg’s
face when he found himself powerless to fire the revolver.
I subsequently thought it best to bring Lingg face to face with one
of his former comrades, who had furnished information about him, and
this was accordingly done. The moment he was brought into the presence
of the informer his face assumed a terrible scowl, but he remained
obstinately silent.
One day Lingg was again brought into the office, and I questioned him
as to the real strength of the Anarchists in the city and country.
He smiled and said:
“Don’t you know that yet? This I cannot answer, but I will tell you
that you only know the noisy fellows. The real Anarchists in this city
or country you do not know yet, because they are not ready to take
hold, but you will be taken by surprise unless you die soon. I only
hope that I will live long enough to see this hidden power show its
strength.”
During the time Lingg remained at the station his hand was regularly
attended to, he was treated very kindly, had plenty to eat, and
was made as comfortable as possible. All these attentions somewhat
mollified his bitterness against us.
Some time after the other interviews, I visited him and asked him if he
entertained any hostility towards the police. He replied that during
the McCormick factory riot he had been clubbed by an officer, but he
did not care so much for that. He could forget it all, but he did not
like Bonfield. If it had not been for Bonfield, he said, the street-car
men, in their strike in the summer of 1885, would have had things all
their own way, and that would have changed everything all over the city
in a business way.
“If I could only kill Bonfield,” he vehemently declared, “I would be
ready to die within five minutes afterwards.”
Lingg was a singular Anarchist. In every act and word he showed no care
for himself, but he always expressed sympathy for men who had families
and who were in trouble. He showed that he was a man with a will, and
that if he set his mind to the accomplishment of an end he would bend
all his energies to attain it.
There was another peculiarity about Lingg which distinguished him from
the rest of his associates. Although he drank beer, he never drank to
excess, and he frowned upon the use of bad or indecent language. He was
an admirer of the fair sex, and they reciprocated his admiration, his
manly form, handsome face and pleasing manners captivating all.
On the 27th of May, Lingg and Engel were taken in a patrol wagon to
the Harrison Street Station, where the “art gallery” of the Police
Department was kept, to have their photographs taken. On the way,
Loewenstein remarked to Lingg:
“Louis, you want to look your prettiest, so that you will make a good
picture.”
“What difference does it make whether a dead man’s picture looks good
or bad,” was the reply, uttered in a most serious manner and in a
strong tone of voice.
From the gallery the Anarchists were driven to the County Jail, and
that was the last time they ever saw the streets of Chicago or breathed
the air outside of prison walls.
From the day Lingg entered the jail he became surly and ugly to all the
officers, but he implicitly obeyed all prison rules. He held himself
aloof from everybody except his fellow Anarchists, and would have
nothing to say to any one except his friends or his sweetheart.
Lingg was very fond of children, and when those of Neebe, Schwab or
others called at the jail he would play with them and seemed to extract
much amusement from their little pranks and antics.
Mrs. Klein often visited him and always brought a baby, in which Lingg
seemed to take a special interest. Lingg and Mrs. Klein conversed
freely together, and he seemed to enjoy her visits greatly. Whenever
she called she brought him fruit of the season and choice edibles with
which to vary his prison fare.
Lingg and his associates proved quite a drawing card, and Anarchists
from all parts of the country called at the jail. But while his fellows
appeared pleased to hold receptions, so to speak, Lingg did not desire
the company of strangers. He gave his time only to the few ladies who
called on him and to his nearest friends. He disliked being gaped at by
curiosity-seekers, and when he had no good friend to keep him company
he traveled the corridors of the jail beyond the reach of public
gaze. He also whiled time away by cutting pretty little carvings
out of cigar-boxes with his jack-knife, and in this he displayed
considerable ingenuity. Tiring of this diversion, he would pick up a
book or a paper; but, however monotonous prison life at times became,
he never thrust himself before the visitors’ cage to pose before the
idle throng. Many callers came to sympathize with Lingg as well as to
admire his handsome physique, and, as he would not allow his hair to
be cut after his incarceration, his flowing, curly locks added to his
picturesque appearance.
[Illustration: LINGG’S SWEETHEART.
From a Photograph.]
But there was one visitor he always welcomed. It was his sweetheart,
whose acquaintance he had made before his arrest, and who became a
regular caller. She invariably wore a pleasant smile, breathed soft,
loving words into his ears through the wire screen that separated the
visitors’ cage from the jail corridor, and contributed much toward
keeping him cheerful. This girl had lived at one time with a family
on West Lake Street, in the heart of an Anarchist camp, but, for some
reason, while her lover was at the Chicago Avenue Station she never
paid him a visit. The second day after he had been locked up at the
County Jail she promptly made her appearance, however, and became a
regular visitor. She simply passed with the jail officials at first
as “Lingg’s girl,” but one day some one called her Ida Miller, and
thereafter she was recognized under that name. She was generally
accompanied by young Miss Engel, the daughter of Anarchist Engel, and
during the last four months of her lover’s incarceration she could be
seen every afternoon entering the jail. She was always readily admitted
until the day the bombs were found in Lingg’s cell. After that neither
she nor Mr. and Mrs. Klein were admitted. While it has never been
satisfactorily proven who it was that introduced the bombs into the
jail, it is likely that they were smuggled into Lingg’s hands by his
sweetheart. She enjoyed Lingg’s fullest confidence, and regarded his
every wish.
It is not known whether Miller is the real name of the girl, but it
is supposed to be Elise Friedel. She is a German, and was twenty-two
years of age at the time, her birthplace being Mannheim, which was
also Lingg’s native town. She was robust in appearance, with fair
complexion, and dark hair. She had quite a penchant for beer, and
could sit in a crowd of her Anarchist friends and drink “schnitts”
with the proficiency of a veteran. She always entertained hope of
executive clemency, but when Lingg died at his own hands she somewhat
surprisingly failed to evince great sorrow. Perhaps the consciousness
of having aided him in escaping the gallows had prepared her for the
worst.
Lingg’s terrible death did not perceptibly change her demeanor. She was
seen at several dances shortly afterwards, and seemed to enjoy herself
as much as anybody. She even danced with detectives, unconscious of
their calling, and, in jesting with them, her laugh was as hearty and
ringing as though she were bent on capturing a new beau.
During all the long, weary days Lingg remained in jail his demeanor
was the same as during the trial—cool, collected and unconcerned.
No special trouble apparently burdened his mind. His constant
companions—whenever they were permitted to be together—were Engel
and Fischer. They appeared to believe that their fellow prisoners and
co-conspirators would turn on them to save their own lives.
The statement Lingg made, on the 14th of May, omitting the part
pertaining to his occupation, age and residence, was as follows:
“Whenever I did any work at home [Seliger’s house] I did it as
carefully as possible, so that no one could see me. I did make
dynamite bombs out of gas-pipe, and I generally found the gas-pipe on
the street. Finding them two or three feet long, I would cut them into
pieces. After cutting them about six inches long I would fill them
with dynamite and attach a fuse to each. I then would call them bombs.”
“Who showed or taught you how to make those bombs?”
“No one. I learned it from books.”
“What books?”
“I read it in a book published by Herr Most of New York. It explains
how to make dynamite and other articles used in war. I once had four
bombs in my dinner-box—two were loaded and two empty. I bought two
pounds of the stuff on Lake Street, near Dearborn. I also bought one
coil of fuse and one box of caps at the same place, and that is all I
bought. I paid 65 cents for the box of caps, 60 cents for two pounds
of dynamite, and 50 cents for the coil of fuse.”
“Did you work all the material into the bombs?”
“No, there is some of it left in my trunk. I do not deny making bombs.
I made them for the purpose of being used in a war or a revolution
during these workingmen’s troubles. The bombs found in my room I
intended to use myself. I have been at August Spies’ office several
times, and I have known him for some time. I always received the
_Arbeiter-Zeitung_, and I like to read it. I made some of those round
lead bombs. I made the molds myself and cast the bombs. The iron
bolts I used to connect and hold them together I bought in a hardware
store. I bought five small ones and two big ones. I could only use
the molds to cast bombs with a few times; then they would be useless.
At the time I bought the dynamite I was alone. On Tuesday night, May
4, Seliger and I were on Larrabee Street, between Clybourn Avenue and
the city limits, and we remained there until about ten o’clock. We
then went home and had several glasses of beer. We did not meet any
one we knew. We were on Larrabee Street all the time. When we came
home Mrs. Seliger was abed. I was at the meeting held in the hall at
No. 71 West Lake Street, Monday night, May 3. I saw there the circular
which called the workingmen to arms and to seek revenge on the police
because they had killed six of our brothers at McCormick’s factory on
that day. I also attended a meeting the same night, at No. 54 West
Lake Street, which was held by the armed sections. I was out to Lake
View and tried one of my dynamite bombs to find out what strength it
had. I put the bomb in a tree between two limbs. I lit the fuse; the
bomb exploded and split the tree, damaging it considerably. I had
my hair cut, and mustache and whiskers shaven off, about May 8th or
9th. I want to say right here to you men that I did make dynamite
bombs and intended to use them.
[Illustration: CAN OF ENGLISH DYNAMITE AND LADLE.
Used by Lingg in Casting Bombs. From a Photograph.]
I am down on capital and capitalists. I knew that if we sought our
rights—I mean the workingmen—they would turn out the police and
militia against us with their Gatling guns and cannon. We knew that we
could not defend ourselves with our revolvers, and therefore turned
to the adoption of dynamite. For one, I was not going to get hurt. I
made bombs of lead and bombs of metal, and I made them with the two
materials mixed. I tried both the lead and gas-pipe bombs, and I found
that they could do good service. If you cut the fuse ten inches long
and light it you can run away forty steps before the explosion takes
place. The armed men of the so-called International Group of the North
Side always met at Greif’s Hall, No. 54 West Lake Street. We used to
go to the Shooting Park in Lake View and shoot at targets on Sundays.
I have been there about ten times. I admit that the two Lehmans came
to see me at my room at No. 442 Sedgwick Street, and I will confess
that on Tuesday, May 4, six men came to my room to see me.”
At this interview there were present, besides myself, Furthmann, Stift,
Rehm, Loewenstein, Schuettler and Hoffman. On the 17th of May, Lingg
again remarked to Officer Schuettler that he regretted that he had not
had a chance to kill him.
On the 24th of May Lingg and Hubner were brought together, and
Assistant State’s Attorney Furthmann asked the latter if he knew the
bomb-maker.
“Oh, yes, I was at his room on Tuesday afternoon, May 4, helping him to
make dynamite bombs, and what I stated in my affidavit is true.”
Lingg scowled furiously, and emphatically denied the statement. All he
could be made to say in explanation of the affair, however, was that he
“had been a Socialist all his life and ever since he could think.”
ERNST HUBNER was arrested by Officers Schuettler and Whalen on the
morning of May 18, at six o’clock, while he was on his way to his
work. He is a German by birth and a carpenter by trade, and worked for
a man by the name of Schombel, on the corner of Clybourn Avenue and
Larrabee Street. He was about forty years of age, married, wore very
shabby clothes, and lived, at the time of his arrest, at No. 11 Mohawk
Street, in three small and dirty rooms. His house was searched, and the
officers found one breech-loading rifle, one large 44-caliber Remington
revolver and half a pailful of ammunition for both guns. While they
were searching the house, Mrs. Hubner, a sickly, delicate woman, said
to Officer Schuettler:
“My dear man, if my husband had gone more to his shop and to work
instead of running to meetings, you would not find my house in this
shape. I am all broken up. I am sick, and now he is arrested. I suppose
this is the last of our family.”
The search still going on, Mrs. Hubner crossed the room to a closet,
saying to Schuettler:
“Here, officers, take this devil’s print out of my house. This is what
my husband prayed with night and day, and what got him into trouble. If
you don’t want to take it, I will throw it into the stove. I don’t want
any more families made miserable by it.”
The officer opened the bundle, and the first thing he saw was a picture
of the burly face of John Most. This led to the exchange of a few
pleasantries between the officers.
“I have got him,” shouted Schuettler.
When Officer Whalen got a glimpse of the portrait, which was printed on
the cover of a pamphlet, and not knowing what the title on the cover
had reference to, as it was printed in German, or whom the picture
represented, he facetiously remarked:
“I see the face of a Scotch terrier.”
“You fool,” replied Schuettler, with a twinkle in his eye, “that is
Johann Most.”
“Well,” retorted Whalen, “if that is the great Anarchist, he ought to
have two more legs. He’d make a fine ratter.”
In the bundle were found a number of Communistic, Socialistic and
Anarchistic documents, and a complete collection of hand-bills of all
the meetings that had been held for years past. Hubner had been an
active worker at all times. He would post bills, carry hand-bills and
do any kind of work for the “good of the cause.” No meetings were ever
held too far from his home. He was well known in all the “groups” and
to all the leaders. He attended all the picnics and parades. Nothing
delighted him more than to carry the big banner belonging to the
International Carpenters’ Union No. 1. How he strutted and flaunted
that banner as he passed churches, police stations and the residences
of the wealthy. Next to Most’s book, that banner was his principal
source of inspiration. He would even neglect his meals for the sake of
bearing aloft that crimson standard. Whether this was the cause of his
emaciated look at the time of his arrest is problematical, but certain
it is his appearance, when brought before me, indicated want and
starvation, and his voice was weak and husky.
“From what I can hear about you,” I said, “it appears that you are one
of the ‘boys.’”
“Oh, well,” drawled Hubner, “you may hear a great deal.”
“Yes,” I replied, “I hear so much it keeps me busy thinking.”
“Have you been thinking any of me?” queried Hubner.
“I have, and I think you are the worst I have heard of yet.”
“Ah, but you have got others far more dangerous than I am.”
“If you want to give credit to any one else, name the parties.”
Hubner finally stated that only on the evening previous, at a meeting
of the Carpenters’ Union, a member had said that their attorneys,
Messrs. Salomon & Zeisler, held that there was no law to convict any
one, and that they would secure the release of the “boys” as fast as
the police locked them up. They advised all to “keep their mouths
shut,” and that, in the event of an arrest, the police could not hold
them longer than two days.
“Do you want to try that and see how it works?” I asked.
“That’s what I want,” responded Hubner, bent on an experiment.
“Well, I guarantee you,” said I smilingly, “that you will remain here
with us as long as we like your company. When we get tired of you we
will send you to the big jail. Officer, take this man and tell the
lockup-keeper that he will probably stay with us a week.”
Hubner was escorted down stairs, given a good cell and allowed to
metaphorically wrap “that banner” around him as he lay down to dream of
Anarchy. Things got monotonous, however. The very next day he sent word
that he desired to see me. He was brought up and made a long statement.
He assured me that every word was true, that he would face any of those
mentioned and defy them to contradict his assertions. He told the
day and date of almost every transaction. He said he would swear to
everything he had stated.
“I don’t believe in a God,” he added, “but when I swear, I understand
that if I should tell a lie or an untruth I can be punished for it. I
am disgusted with the way things are now. There are no more brave men.”
After a few days he was released by order of the State’s Attorney.
Before leaving, he promised that he would testify in court in
accordance with his statement, and afterwards, for a time, he was on
hand whenever sent for.
The parties arrested were required to report regularly. At the
commencement of the trial, they were all kept in a large room in the
station, where ten officers guarded them night and day. They were taken
out for exercise every evening, but were not allowed to talk to any
one. Their wives had the privilege of seeing them, but an officer was
always present to hear what was said.
Hubner after a time showed signs of weakening. He had been seen by the
attorneys for the defense and changed his mind. He also began talking
to others, urging them not to testify. He finally said he would not
take the stand, and, as he was not wanted to testify, he was again
released. After the trial he went back to his comrades, attended some
of their meetings and talked for the cause. When the time approached
for the execution, he suddenly left the city, and subsequently sent
for his family. He has returned to Chicago, however, and is working on
Division and Clark Streets, in a little carpenter-shop.
The following is his statement, to the correctness of which he would
have testified had he not been a poltroon and a simpleton. It fully
bears out the truth of the witnesses who appeared for the State during
the trial as to the conspiracy and the parties thereto:
“I know Gottfried Waller. I belong to the armed men. I know George
Engel. At one time he published a paper called the _Anarchist_. I
know Louis Lingg. I was at Greif’s Hall, 54 West Lake Street, Monday
afternoon about five o’clock. I left there at nine o’clock and got
home at eleven the same night. I read and saw a circular that called
for revenge and to arm ourselves. I saw August Spies in the hall,
and he told us that the police had been shooting our workingmen at
McCormick’s, and we should be ready with our arms. Then Rau came into
the meeting, very much excited and said that a number of our people
had been shot at McCormick’s by the police. He called us to arms. Then
Rau and Spies left the hall together. Both were much excited. The
speech and talking of Spies in the hall happened in this way. Spies
would catch a man alone and talk about the shooting, or when he saw
a crowd of four or five standing together he would talk to them to
excite them and urge them on. The effect of his talking to us brought
our temper to such heat that I and others were ready to take revenge
on the police officers and the law. And we would have done almost
anything to get revenge. If Spies and Rau had there and then started
out and we had had our arms with us, we would have followed them to do
harm at once.”
Such was the confession the brave Hubner first made to the police. On
the 18th of May he made a second statement, as follows, adding a few
further details as to the conspiracy:
“On Tuesday, May 4, about 4 P.M., I went to the house of William
Seliger, at 442 Sedgwick Street, and there I found William Seliger and
Louis Lingg. I had been in Seliger’s house the day before, and I took
along with me when I left three bombs—that is, three empty shells.
Lingg also gave me the dynamite with which to fill them. Not knowing
how, I was afraid to fill them, and I brought them back to Lingg to
fill them for me. When I got there, Seliger and Lingg were working,
filling bombs or shells with dynamite. I went to work and helped them
and got the bombs ready for use. They had some of them filled when I
got there, but in all they filled and finished twenty round lead or
metal bombs and about fifteen or eighteen long ones—that is, I mean
to say, made of gas-pipe, about six inches or more long. I saw there
a lot more of dynamite and fuse. As I went away from there—Seliger’s
house—that evening, I took along with me four long bombs, but before
I left we had all the bombs finished, ready for use. I saw about
six men at 5 P.M. in Seliger’s house, and when any one came Lingg
always went to the door and waited upon them. That evening, May 4, at
eight o’clock, I went to Neff’s Hall, 58 Clybourn Avenue, and when I
had been there only a few minutes I saw Lingg, Seliger and a little
stout man, who carried a heavy satchel with a gray cloth cover. They
came in together in Neff’s Hall and placed the satchel in a little
hallway leading to a ‘gents’ closet.’ I was sent to Neff’s Hall to
see and report if there were many of our armed men in the hall who
were waiting for bombs. As I had not been there long enough to find
out and report back, Lingg and Seliger got tired of waiting at 442
Sedgwick Street and brought the satchel filled with bombs to Neff’s
Hall themselves. When Lingg saw me he came up to me and found fault
with me for not reporting back sooner. He said there might have been
lots of people there who failed to get bombs or shells. After that
I went to supper, since Lingg was in the hall to look after things
himself. The men I saw there were Hageman and Hermann. On Monday
night, May 3, I was at Greif’s Hall, 54 West Lake Street, up to ten
o’clock, and afterwards I also went into the saloon. There were about
forty men sitting and standing around the bar-room. Someone called out
that the so-called armed sections should go down into the basement,
as there would be a meeting for them. Then forty of us went down, and
we decided to hold a meeting there. This was about nine o’clock in
the evening. Gottfried Waller was chosen president. George Engel was
one of the speakers and originator of the plan then and there given
to us to shoot and kill people and destroy property. He told us what
to do and began in this way. He asked us if we knew about his plan.
The majority said ‘no.’ Then he began to tell us that his plan was to
call a meeting for the next evening at the Haymarket, and there draw
out as many police as possible, so that the outside parts of the city
would not be strongly protected by the police. The signal for action
would be given, and they should set fire to buildings in several
places and in all parts of the city. One building at Wicker Park
was mentioned, and as soon as they saw it on fire, then they should
attack the police stations, throw dynamite bombs into the stations,
kill the police officers and destroy the stations. In case a patrol
wagon came, they should throw a bomb among the policemen, and if that
did not stop them, then they should kill the horses attached to the
wagons with their revolvers or guns. After that they should destroy
all the property they could. The circular that called for revenge and
to arms I saw at the Monday night meeting in the basement, 54 West
Lake Street, where Engel spoke and gave us the plan of revolution. The
lying of Engel about the killing of six of our brothers at McCormick’s
factory started me so that I was ready to do anything desperate. The
speech of Engel in the basement that evening worked on me so that I
went to Seliger’s house on Tuesday afternoon, May 4, and helped to
finish the bombs, as I stated before. George Engel told those that
had no arms to stay at home away from the Haymarket meeting, and that
men who had arms but no courage should also stay at home. In that
meeting there were present Adolph Fischer, Gottfried Waller, George
Engel, Breitenfeld, Schnaubelt, John Thielen, Abraham Hermann, Herman
Hageman, the two Lehmans and Hubner. Waller told us to go ahead and
do our work, that he would be with us. The meeting lasted from nine
o’clock to eleven.
[Illustration: MUNTZENBERG PEDDLING BOMBS AND BOOKS.]
Fischer and others agreed to have the circular printed calling the
meeting at the Haymarket for Tuesday night, May 4. After all the plans
had been explained to us Fischer said ‘That is the one’—meaning
the murderous plan—‘that we adopted in our group meeting.’ Every
division group were to make their own arrangements. The North Side
armed men should meet Tuesday evening, May 4, at the foot of Webster
Avenue and Lincoln Park, at the Schiller monument. I went there. I
could not find enough of our people there, as the night was dark and
those present were scattered. I got tired of waiting for others. The
four bombs I had with me that night I took to the North Avenue Pier
and threw them into the lake. Then I went home and went to bed. This
was about ten o’clock. I did not hear anything of the shooting or the
explosion of the bomb or the killing of the policemen at the Haymarket
until the next morning when I got up. I went home so early on that
evening because I had a headache from the smell of the dynamite
used in filling the bombs. We filled thirty-five in all. The word
‘Ruhe’ was intended as the signal word. If it should appear in the
_Arbeiter-Zeitung_ May 4, in the ‘Briefkasten,’ then that would be a
notification to be ready for the revolution. We were to watch also for
the fire and shooting signals as well as the appearance of that word
in the paper. We were then all to get ready. I only know of Lingg as
a manufacturer of bombs. The plan was presented to the men to go and
blow up the Chicago Avenue Station. Also many others were to blow up
the Larrabee Street Station and the Webster Avenue Station. The work
I did on the bombs was drilling holes in them. This statement I make
of my own free will and accord in the presence of the officers named,
and it is true and correct. And I furthermore will say that I will
not take any bribe to change my statement or make denials; neither
will I leave the city or the State as long as this case is pending in
court, unless I have the consent of Capt. Schaack; that I always will
be ready to give testimony for the people, whenever I am called on
in this case, and that I will never make a second statement, that is
to say, to a notary public or a justice of the peace, in writing or
verbally; that I will only make a statement under oath for the grand
jury of the Criminal Court, or Capt. M. J. Schaack.”
Here follow the signature, etc., and the notarial acknowledgment.
On the 24th of May, Hubner, among other things, stated that he knew
Herman Muntzenberg.
“I met him,” he said, “as I was carrying around hand-bills for the
meeting called May 4 at the Haymarket. Muntzenberg went with me to
Seliger’s house that afternoon. We saw Lingg and Seliger making the
dynamite bombs, and we helped them to make them. Muntzenberg and I
spent about three hours in Seliger’s house that afternoon. Muntzenberg
was there when it was stated that the dynamite bombs should be carried
down to Neff’s Hall, 58 Clybourn Avenue, that night. Muntzenberg and
I, by order of Lingg, went down to Neff’s Hall to see how things
looked there and report back to him. That is why Muntzenberg went
to meet Lingg and Seliger to help them to carry the bombs to Neff’s
place.”
Since the trial I have learned that Hubner knew a great deal more than
he divulged in his confession, and that he was one of the parties
chosen to aid in blowing up the Webster Avenue Station.