The Close of the Defense—Working on the Jury—The Man who Threw
the Bomb—Conflicting Testimony—Michael Schwab on the Stand—An
Agitator’s Adventures—Spies in his Own Defense—The Fight at
McCormick’s—The Desplaines Street Wagon—Bombs and Beer—The
Wilkinson Interview—The Weapon of the Future—Spies the Reporter’s
Friend—Bad Treatment by Ebersold—The Hocking Valley Letter—Albert
R. Parsons in his Own Behalf—His Memories of the Haymarket—The
Evidence in Rebuttal.
THROUGHOUT the trial the defendants maintained an air of careless
indifference. Occasionally during the presentation of particularly
striking and damaging evidence—notably that of Thompson and
Gilmer—they were noticed to wince, but the flush was only momentary.
It was apparent that the prisoners expected in some manner to extricate
themselves from their perilous position, and the casual observer would
have supposed them involved simply in an ordinary trial. Whatever may
have been their real feelings, they did not betray them. After they
had begun to place evidence on their own behalf before the jury, they
even wore a certain air of cheerfulness; and whereas previously a sort
of stolidity had marked their demeanor, their general bearing now was
that of supreme confidence. They evidently felt confident of having
made a favorable impression upon the jury. They possibly calculated
upon their having successfully impeached the evidence of Gilmer and
having proven to some extent their own disconnection with the Haymarket
explosion. Fielden’s plausible explanations also, no doubt, added to
their confidence.
Taking the evidence of the State as a complete exposition of the
conspiracy, there seemed to be no consolation in that direction; but
their hope rested in winning over the jury by raising a reasonable
doubt through the preponderance of offsetting testimony on their own
side, and by making the jury believe, by the manner of their conduct
under the severe fire of the prosecution, that they sincerely felt
themselves innocent of all “guilty knowledge.”
They played their part well, and their attitude is not at all
surprising when their former bloodthirsty propensities are taken
into consideration. In an ordinary murder or conspiracy trial
Fielden’s statements might have had some influence in mitigation
of extreme punishment, but, overshadowed as it was by overwhelming
counter-evidence of complicity in a stupendous crime, the jury
subsequently determined that it saw no way of disconnecting him from
the other conspirators.
The defendants pretended they had a host of witnesses beyond those that
they really required to prove that they had never dreamed there would
be a bomb thrown at the Haymarket, but that they only needed to use a
few of these witnesses to establish their innocence. Still, they put a
very large number on the stand. The testimony of all these pretended to
show what a harmless set of men the State had arrested and put on trial
for their lives.
The trend of much of the evidence for the defense seemed directed
toward proving the police responsible for the massacre, by having
opened fire on a “peaceable gathering;” and, through a brother of
the defendant Spies, it was attempted to prove that the enmity of
the police toward Anarchists was so great that one of them tried to
shoot the defendant in the back while at the Haymarket. This brother
of Spies—Henry—had been wounded in the abdomen, and he endeavored,
on the witness-stand, to show that he had received the injury while
suddenly pressing down the revolver that was aimed at his brother. The
explanation was too lame to be serviceable.
At this point several witnesses testified to Lingg’s presence at Zepf’s
Hall early on the night of May 3d. Others strengthened the Anarchistic
theory of an alleged police attack at the Haymarket. Still others
impeached the witness Gilmer’s veracity. Inasmuch as I have previously
given in full all the evidence which these people merely corroborated,
I have not thought it necessary to give here their statements at length.
JOHN BERNETT, a candy-maker, said he saw the man who threw the bomb.
The thrower was right in front of him. The bomb “went west and a little
bit north.”
“The man who threw it was about my size, maybe a little bit bigger,
and I think he had a mustache. I think he had no chin beard, and his
clothes were dark.”
“Did you ever see that picture before?” (handing witness photograph of
Schnaubelt).
“Yes, sir; Mr. Furthmann showed it to me about two weeks ago.”
“Do you recognize that as being the man who threw the bomb?”
“I guess not.”
“Did you tell Mr. Furthmann so at the time?”
“Yes, sir.”
On cross-examination Bernett said;
“I never could recognize anybody. I told Capt. Schaack and Mr.
Grinnell that the man who threw the bomb was in front of me, and I
could not tell how he did look. When the police came up first I stood
right in the middle of the alley. When the captain of the police
ordered them to leave that place, I heard somebody say: ‘Stand; don’t
run,’ and there were about three or four men, about the middle of the
street, west of the wagon, who halloaed out: ‘No; we won’t do it.’
That was said in English. I heard Fielden say something to the officer
who spoke to him, but I could not hear it. The crowd began to rush,
and rushed me, and I hurried out as fast as I could. I got shot and
fell on the sidewalk. I told Mr. Furthmann that I thought the bomb
was fired from about fifteen steps south of the alley—I count my
steps about two feet and a half. I don’t think it came right from
behind the boxes. From the place the bomb was thrown up to the other
corner—the house goes up a little further on the other side—the
distance is forty-five feet. The bomb was thrown forty-five feet south
of the corner of the alley. I cannot remember how far the boxes were
south of the alley that night—there was a lamp-post, and then the
boxes came. I remember coming to the Central Station on the 7th of
May and talking to Officer Bonfield in the presence of Mr. Grinnell.
I don’t know that I said at that time that the bomb was thrown
from behind the boxes, but I think I am right now. I don’t think I
stated afterwards, some weeks ago, that it was thrown some twenty or
twenty-five feet south of the alley. I can’t remember now how many
feet I stated the distance was, but I think I have got it right now.
On the 7th of May I was brought over here by Officer Bonfield and
Officer Haas, so that I could see the defendants. I was asked if I had
ever seen them before, and I said I had seen them all before on the
lake front and the Haymarket. I told Capt. Schaack that I could not
describe the man and would not know him if I saw him, and that the
man’s back was toward me.”
MICHAEL SCHWAB was then called in his own behalf, and he made the
following statement:
“Up to the 4th of May I lived at 51 Florimond Street. I was co-editor
of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_. On the evening of May 4th I left home
twenty minutes to eight, went to the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ and reached
there about eight o’clock. I left about ten minutes later. While I
was there a telephone message was received asking Mr. Spies to speak
at Deering. After that I went over to the Haymarket to see whether
I could find Mr. Spies. I didn’t stop long over there. I just went
through the crowd, as the men out at Deering had been waiting for an
hour already. I went over on Washington Street, turned north down
Desplaines Street and went across Randolph Street, and north of
Randolph on Desplaines I met my brother-in-law, Rudolph Schnaubelt,
and talked to him about the matter; then took a car going in an
easterly direction and rode up to the Court-house. At the Court-house
I took a Clybourn Avenue car and went to Deering’s factory. Near the
car stables I was met by a man and asked whether I was Mr. Schwab.
The man testified here on the witness-stand. I think his name is
Preusser, as he told me that night. I should judge it takes about
ten minutes from the Haymarket to the Court-house and about forty or
forty-five minutes from there to Fullerton Avenue. I stepped from the
car with that man; went up to the saloon, 888 Clybourn Avenue, to see
the committee, but the committee was not there; so we went directly
to the prairie, corner of Fullerton and Clybourn Avenues, and there I
met some men who told me that they were the committee. I talked with
them some minutes, then mounted the stand and made a speech, twenty or
twenty-five minutes long, about the eight-hour movement, to the men
who had struck that same day and demanded eight hours’ work and ten
hours’ pay. I returned home about eleven o’clock at night. I didn’t
pay any attention to the time. After the meeting was over I went with
Preusser to a saloon, took a glass of beer and had some lunch, and
then I took the next car going south. I left the car on Willow Street,
which is not far north from North Avenue, and walked home, which is a
distance of about twenty minutes’ walk.
“I did not at any time while I was at the Haymarket enter Crane’s
alley or any alley with Mr. Spies. I had no conversation with him
near the mouth of the alley. I did not walk at any time that night
in company with Mr. Spies on the north side of Randolph Street from
the corner of Desplaines down past Union Street and return to where
the wagon stood. I did not, in company with Mr. Spies, meet Schnaubelt
when Spies handed to Schnaubelt any package or anything. I did not see
Spies and did not speak to him at all that night at the Haymarket. I
did not say anything to Spies or anybody else in the mouth of Crane’s
alley about pistols or police, or whether one would be enough. I had
no such conversation with anybody at the Haymarket or anywhere. I did
not say to Mr. Spies or anybody else at any time before the meeting
began or at any other time that if the police came we were ready for
them or we would give it to them, or any words to that effect.
“When I left the Haymarket the meeting had not begun; men were
standing around on all four corners. I had seen Mr. Spies last that
day in the afternoon. I did not see him again until the next day in
the morning, when I came to the office.”
On cross-examination Schwab said:
“I was a member of the North Side group of the International
Workingmen’s Association from the time it started, some years ago,
until up to the 4th of May last. I walked over to the Haymarket from
the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ that night through the Washington Street tunnel
with Balthasar Rau. He left me on Desplaines and Randolph; there I
lost him. Then I crossed Randolph Street, and about the middle of
Randolph Street met Mr. Heineman. I inquired of some persons whom I
knew by sight whether they had seen Spies. I staid there not more than
five minutes, then took a car and went east. I went alone. I should
judge it was about half-past eight when I took the car on Randolph
Street and about twenty minutes of nine when I took the Clybourn
Avenue car and went north. I was alone on that way. I don’t know
what time it was when I got to the saloon at 888 Clybourn Avenue.
From there it is about a block or a little more to the prairie where
the meeting was held. When I got there I spoke first to some of the
members of the committee to find out what they wanted me to speak
about. That took about five minutes. After I had spoken to the meeting
I went with Preusser to a saloon, corner of Clybourn and Ashland
Avenues, not the same saloon I went into the first time. I did not see
Balthasar Rau again that night.”
“Are you an Anarchist?”
“That depends upon what you mean by that. There are several divisions
of the Anarchists.”
“Are you an Anarchist?”
“Well, I can’t answer that.”
AUGUST VINCENT THEODORE SPIES was next put on the stand to testify in
his own behalf. He said:
“May 4th last I was one of the editors of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_. I
occupied that position since 1880. Prior to that I was engaged in
this country principally in the furniture business. I am a member of
the Socialistic Publishing Society, which is organized under the laws
of the State of Illinois, and by which the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ was
published. I was an employé of that society in my position as editor,
and as such was subject to their control as to the general policy of
the paper.
“At a meeting of the Central Labor Union in the evening of Sunday,
May 2, at 54 West Lake Street, which I attended in the capacity of a
reporter, I was invited by one or two delegates to address a meeting
of the Lumber-shovers’ Union on the afternoon of May 3, on the corner
of Twenty-second or Twentieth and Blue Island Avenue. As there were
no other speakers, I went out. When I came there was a crowd of 6,000
to 7,000 people assembled on the prairie. When I was invited, which
was the first information I received of the meeting, nothing was said
to me about any relationship of Mr. McCormick’s employés to that
meeting. I did not know that the locality of the meeting was in the
immediate neighborhood of McCormick’s. I arrived there, as near as I
can judge, a little after three o’clock. Several men were speaking
from a car in the Bohemian or Polish language; they were very poor
speakers, and small crowds of those assembled detached themselves
to the side and talked together. Balthasar Rau introduced me to the
chairman of the meeting. I don’t remember his name; he testified here.
I asked him if I was to speak there, and he said yes. I waited for
about ten minutes while reports came in from the different owners
of the lumber-yards as to the demand made by the union, which was
eight hours’ work at twenty-two cents per hour. They then elected a
committee to wait upon the bosses to find out what concessions they
would make, if any. Thereupon I was introduced to address the meeting,
and spoke from fifteen to twenty minutes. Having spoken two or three
times almost every day for the preceding two or three weeks, I was
almost prostrated, and spoke very calmly, and told the people, who
in my judgment were not of a very high intellectual grade, to stand
together and to enforce their demands at all hazards; otherwise the
single bosses would one by one defeat them. While I was speaking I
heard somebody in the rear, probably a hundred feet away from me,
cry out something in a language which I didn’t understand—perhaps
Bohemian or Polish. After the meeting I was told that this man had
called upon them to follow him up to McCormick’s. I should judge about
two hundred persons, standing a little ways apart from the main body,
detached themselves and went away. I didn’t know where they were going
until probably five minutes later I heard firing, and about that time
I stopped speaking and inquired where the pistol shots came from,
and was told that some men had gone up there to stone McCormick’s
‘scabs’ and that the police had fired upon them. I stopped there
probably another five or six minutes, during which time I was elected
a member of the committee to visit the bosses, when two patrol wagons
came up in great haste on the Black Road, so-called, driving towards
McCormick’s, followed immediately by about seventy-five policemen on
foot, and then other patrol wagons came. I jumped from the car and
went up to McCormick’s. They were shooting all the while. I thought it
must be quite a battle. In front of McCormick’s factory there are some
railroad tracks, on which a number of freight-cars were standing. The
people were running away and hiding behind these freight-cars as much
as they could, to keep out of the way of the pistol-firing. The fight
was going on behind the cars. When I came up there on this prairie,
right in front of McCormick’s, I saw a policeman run after and fire at
people who were fleeing, running away.
[Illustration: SPIES ADDRESSING THE STRIKERS AT MCCORMICK’S.]
My blood was boiling, and, seeing unarmed men, women and children, who
were running away, fired upon, I think in that moment I could have
done almost anything. At that moment a young Irishman, who probably
knew me or had seen me at the meeting, came running from behind the
cars and said: ‘What kind of a—— —— business is this? What h——l
of a union is that? What people are these who will let those men be
shot down here like dogs? I just come from there; we have carried away
two men dead, and there are a number of others lying on the ground
who will most likely die. At least twenty or twenty-five must have
been shot who ran away or were carried away by friends.’ Of course
I could not do anything there. I went back to where the meeting had
been, which was about three blocks away. I told some of them what was
going on at McCormick’s, but they were unconcerned and went home. I
took a car and went down town. The same evening I wrote the report
of the meeting which appeared in the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ of the next
day. Immediately after I came to the office I wrote the so-called
Revenge circular, except the heading, ‘Revenge.’ At the time I wrote
it I believed the statement that six workingmen had been killed that
afternoon at McCormick’s. I wrote at first that two had been killed,
and after seeing the report in the five o’clock _News_ I changed the
two to six, based upon the information contained in the _News_. I
believe 2,500 copies of that circular were printed, but not more than
half of them distributed, for I saw quite a lot of them in the office
of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ on the morning I was arrested. At the time
I wrote it I was still laboring under the excitement of the scene and
the hour. I was very indignant.
“On May 4th I was performing my regular duties at the
_Arbeiter-Zeitung_. A little before nine in the forenoon I was invited
to address a meeting on the Haymarket that evening. That was the
first I heard of it. I had no part in calling the meeting. I put
the announcement of the meeting into the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ at the
request of a man who invited me to speak. The _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ is an
afternoon daily paper, and appears at 2 P. M. About eleven o’clock a
circular calling the Haymarket meeting was handed to me to be inserted
in the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_, containing the line, ‘Workingmen, arm
yourselves and appear in full force.’ I said to the man who brought
the circular that, if that was the meeting which I had been invited
to address, I should certainly not speak there, on account of that
line. He stated that the circulars had not been distributed, and I
told him if that was the case, and if he would take out that line, it
would be all right. Mr. Fischer was called down at that time, and he
sent the man back to the printing-office to have the line taken out.
I struck out the line myself before I handed it to the compositor to
put it in the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_. The man who brought the circular
to me and took it back with the line stricken out was on the stand
here—Grueneberg I believe is his name.
“I left home that evening about half-past seven o’clock and walked
down with my brother Henry, arriving at the Haymarket about twenty or
twenty-five minutes after eight. I had understood from the invitation
that I should address the meeting in German; and, knowing that the
English speeches would come first, I did not go there in time to reach
the opening of the meeting. When I got there, there was no meeting
in progress, however; simply crowds were standing around the corners
here and there, talking together. I called them together. After having
looked around for a speakers’ stand—we generally had very primitive
platforms—I saw this wagon on Desplaines Street; and being right
near the corner, I thought it was a good place to choose and told the
people that the meeting would take place there. There was no light
upon the wagon. Early in the meeting I think the sky was bright. I
cannot tell whether the lamp at the alley was burning or not; my
impression is that it was. I could not say about any other light. I
found the wagon just where we used it. It was not an ordinary truck
wagon; it was a half truck and half express wagon, the truck with the
box on. I don’t know that there were any stakes on it; it was a large,
long express wagon. I believe I spoke with my brother Henry as to the
advisability of choosing that place. Henry was with me during the
entire evening. After the audience got together, somebody suggested to
draw the wagon into the Haymarket. I replied that that might interfere
with the street traffic, and that the cars would make a good deal
of noise. Then I asked if Mr. Parsons was present. I thought he had
been invited to address the meeting. I was not on the arrangement
committee; but seeing the crowd and seeing that the meeting had been
very poorly arranged, I took the initiative. When I asked for Parsons,
one of the editors of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_, one Schroeder, stepped
up and said: ‘Parsons is speaking up on the corner of Halsted and
Randolph Streets; I just saw him there.’ I told him to go and call
him. He left, but staid quite a while, and I left the wagon myself,
and, in the company of my brother Henry, one Legner and Schnaubelt,
whom I had just met, went up the street to find Parsons. Schwab was
not with me at that time or at any time that evening. Schnaubelt
told me I had been wanted at Deering, but as I had not been at hand
Schwab had gone out there. After I left the wagon I did not go to the
mouth of Crane’s alley. I did not even know at the time that there
was an alley there at all. I did not enter the alley with Schwab, had
no conversation with him there in which I referred to pistols and
police, and in which Schwab asked whether one would be enough, etc.,
nor anything of that kind. Neither did I have that conversation with
anybody else. I left the wagon and moved in a southwesterly direction
obliquely across the street to the corner of the Haymarket. From there
I went, in company with those I mentioned, up on Randolph Street,
beyond Union and pretty near Halsted Street, but, seeing only a few
people, probably twenty or twenty-five, standing there scattered, and
not seeing Parsons, we returned, walking on the north side of Randolph
Street, as we had in going down. I went on the wagon and addressed the
meeting. I had no conversation with Schwab, at or about the crossing
of Union Street, in which we spoke about being ready for them and that
they were afraid to come. I had no such conversation with any one. I
don’t remember exactly of what we were speaking, but Schnaubelt and I,
as we walked along, were conversing in German. I have known Schnaubelt
for about two years. I think he has not been in the country more than
two years. He cannot speak English at all. He wore a light gray suit
that night. In returning to the wagon I went from the corner of the
Haymarket right straight to the wagon, in a northeasterly direction. I
did not, on my return, or at any time that evening, walk with Schwab
across Desplaines Street to the center of the sidewalk, some fifteen
feet south of Crane’s alley, and at that point meet Schnaubelt, and
there take anything out of my pocket, or otherwise, and give it to
Schnaubelt, or anybody else, at that location.
“I spoke about fifteen or twenty minutes. I began by stating that
I heard a large number of patrol wagons had gone to Desplaines
Street Station; that great preparations had been made for a possible
outbreak; that the militia had been called under arms, and that I
would state at the beginning that this meeting had not been called for
the purpose of inciting a riot, but simply to discuss the situation
of the eight-hour movement and the atrocities of the police on the
preceding day. Then I referred to one of the morning papers of the
city, in which Mr. McCormick said that I was responsible for the
affair near his factory; that I had incited the people to commit
violence, etc., and I stated that such misrepresentations were made in
order to discredit the men who took an active part in the movement.
I stated that such outbreaks as had occurred at McCormick’s, in East
St. Louis, in Philadelphia, Cleveland and other places, were not the
work of a band of conspirators, of a few Anarchists or Socialists,
but the unconscious struggle of a class for emancipation; that such
outbreaks might be expected at any minute and were not the arbitrary
work of individuals. I then pointed to the fact that the people who
committed violence had never been Socialists or Anarchists, but in
most instances had been up to that time the most lawful citizens,
good Christians, the exemplary so-called honest workmen, who were
contrasted by the capitalists with the Anarchists. I stated that the
meeting at McCormick’s was composed mostly of humble, church-going
good Christians, and not by any means atheists, or materialists,
or Anarchists. I then stated that for the past twenty years the
wage-workers had asked their employers for a reduction of the hours
of labor; that, according to the statement of the secretary of the
National Bureau of Labor Statistics, about two millions of physically
strong men were out of employment; that the productive capacity had,
by the development of machines, so immensely increased that all that
any rationally organized society required could be produced in a few
hours, and that the mechanical working of men for ten hours a day
was simply another method of murdering them. Though every student of
social phenomena admitted the fact that society was, under the present
condition of overwork, almost retrograding and the masses sinking into
degradation, still their demands have been refused. I proceeded to
state that the legislators had different interests at stake than those
involved in this question, and did not care so much about the welfare
of any class of society as for their own interests, and that at last
the workingmen had conceived, consciously or unconsciously, the idea
to take the matter in their own hands; that it was not a political
question, but an economic question; that neither legislatures nor
Congress could do anything in the premises, but the workingmen could
only achieve a normal day’s work of eight hours or less by their own
efforts.
“I believe when I had gone so far somebody told me that Mr. Parsons
had arrived. Turning around, I saw Parsons; and as I was fatigued,
worn out, I broke off and introduced Parsons. I spoke in English.
After introducing Parsons I staid on the wagon. When I stopped and
Parsons began, I believe there were pretty nearly 2,000 people there;
it was an ordinarily packed crowd. The people who wanted to listen
would crowd to the wagon, others would stand on the opposite sidewalk,
but I did not see any very packed crowd, exactly. While I spoke, I
was facing, I believe, in a southwesterly direction; the bulk of the
audience stood around the wagon south and southwesterly toward the
Haymarket. Parsons spoke forty-five minutes to an hour. He stopped
about ten o’clock. I had been requested by several persons to make
a German speech, but Parsons had spoken longer than I expected,
it was too late, and I didn’t feel much like speaking; so I asked
Mr. Fielden to say a few words in conclusion and then adjourn. I
introduced Fielden to the audience and remained on the wagon until
the command was given by Capt. Ward to disperse. I did not see the
police until they formed in columns on the corner of Desplaines and
Randolph Streets. Somebody behind me, I think, said: ‘The police are
coming.’ I could not understand that. I did not think even when I
saw them that they were marching toward the meeting. The meeting was
almost as well as adjourned. There were not over two hundred on the
spot. About five minutes previous to that a dark cloud came moving
from the north, and it looked so threateningly that most of the people
ran away, and some people suggested an adjournment to Zepf’s Hall;
more than two-thirds of the attendants left at that time. The police
halted three or four feet south of the wagon. Capt. Ward walked up to
the wagon. Fielden was standing in front of me, in the rear of the
wagon. I was standing in the middle of the wagon. Ward held something
in his hand, a cane or a club, and said: ‘In the name of the people
of the State of Illinois, I command you to disperse,’ and Fielden
said: ‘Why, Captain, this is a peaceable meeting.’ And Ward repeated,
I think, that command, and then turned around to his men, and while
I didn’t understand what he said to them, I thought he said, ‘Charge
upon the crowd,’ or something to that effect. I did not hear him say:
‘I call upon you and you to assist;’ he may have said that and I may
have misunderstood him. My brother and one Legner and several others
that I did not know stood at the side of the wagon; they reached out
their hands and helped me off the wagon. I felt very indignant over
the coming of the police, and intended to ask them what right they
had to break up the meeting, but I jumped down from the wagon. When
I reached the sidewalk I heard a terrible detonation; I thought the
city authority had brought a cannon there to scare the people from the
street. I did not think they would shoot upon the people, nor did I
think in the least, at that time, of a bomb. Then I was pushed along;
there was a throng of people rushing up, and I was just carried away
with them. I went into Zepf’s Hall. The firing began immediately,
simultaneously with the explosion. I did not see any firing from the
crowd upon the police. I did not hear, as I stood upon the wagon,
either by Fielden or anybody else, any such exclamation as ‘Here come
the bloodhounds; men, do your duty and I will do mine.’ Fielden did
not draw a revolver and fire from the wagon upon the police or in
their direction. I did not, before the explosion of the bomb, leave
my position upon the wagon, go into the alley, strike a match and
light a bomb in the hands of Rudolph Schnaubelt. I did not see Rudolph
Schnaubelt in the mouth of the alley then or at any time that evening
with a bomb. I did not at that time or any other time that evening go
into the mouth of the alley and join there Fischer and Schnaubelt and
strike a match for any purpose. Schnaubelt is about six feet three
inches tall, I should judge, of large frame and large body.
“I remember the witness Wilkinson, a reporter of the _News_. He was
up at the office several times, but I only had one conversation with
him as far as I remember. He made an interview out of it. He was
introduced to me by Joe Gruenhut, who told me that the _News_ wanted
to have an article. Wilkinson inquired as to the report of some paper
that the Anarchists had placed an infernal machine at the door of
the house of Lambert Tree, and I told him that, in my opinion, the
Pinkertons were doing such things to force people to engage them and
to advertise themselves. He then asked whether I had ever seen or
possessed any bombs? I said yes. I had had at the office for probably
three years four bombshells. Two of them had been left at the office
in my absence, by a man who wanted to find out if it was a good
construction. The other two were left with me one day by some man
who came, I think, from Cleveland or New York, and was going to New
Zealand from here. I used to show those shells to newspaper reporters,
and I showed one to Mr. Wilkinson and allowed him to take it along and
show it to Mr. Stone. I never asked him for it since. That part of the
conversation was at noon, while I was in a hurry. Wilkinson came in
the evening again with Joe Gruenhut, and invited me to dine with him.
I had just about half an hour to spend. At the table we talked about
an infernal machine which had been placed a few days previous into
an office of the Burlington and Quincy Railroad, and about another
placed in front of Lambert Tree’s house, and I gave the explanation
which I have already stated. Talking about the riot drill that had
shortly before been held on the lake front, and about the sensational
reports published by the papers in regard to the armed organizations
of Socialists, I told him that it was an open secret that some three
thousand Socialists in the city of Chicago were armed. I told him
that the arming of these people, meaning not only Socialists but
workingmen in general, began right after the strike of 1877, when the
police attacked workingmen at their meetings, killed some and wounded
others; that they were of the opinion that if they would enjoy the
rights of the Constitution, they should prepare to defend them too,
if necessary; that it was a known fact that these men had paraded the
streets, as many as 1,500 strong at a time, with their rifles; that
there was nothing new in that, and I could not see why they talked so
much about it. And I said I thought that they were still arming and I
wished that every workingman was well armed.
“Then we spoke generally on modern warfare. Wilkinson was of the
opinion that the militia and the police could easily defeat any effort
on the part of the populace by force, could easily quell a riot. I
differed from him. I told him that the views which the bourgeoise took
of their military and police was exactly the same as the nobility
took, some centuries ago, as to their own armament, and that gunpowder
had come to the relief of the oppressed masses and had done away with
the aristocracy very quickly; that the iron armor of the nobility was
penetrated by a leaden bullet just as easily as the blouse of the
peasant; that dynamite, like gunpowder, had an equalizing, leveling
tendency; that the two were children of the same parent; that dynamite
would eventually break down the aristocracy of this age and make
the principles of democracy a reality. I stated that it had been
attempted by such men as General Sheridan and others to play havoc
with an organized body of military or police by the use of dynamite,
and it would be an easy thing to do it. He asked me if I anticipated
any trouble, and I said I did. He asked me if the Anarchists and
Socialists were going to make a revolution. Of course I made fun
of that; told him that revolutions were not made by individuals or
conspirators, but were simply the logic of events resting in the
conditions of things. On the subject of street warfare I illustrated
with toothpicks the diagram which had appeared in one of the numbers
of the _Alarm_, introduced in evidence here. I said to him that I
wasn’t much of a warrior, but had read a good deal on the subject, and
I particularly referred to that article in the _Alarm_. I said that
if, for instance, a military body would march up a street, they would
have men on the house-tops on both sides of the street protecting and
guarding the main body from possible onslaught, possibly by shooting,
firing or throwing of bombs. Now, if the revolutionists or civilians,
men not belonging to the privileged military bodies, would form an
oblique line on each side of the street at a crossing, they could
then very successfully combat the on-marching militia and police, by
attacking them with fire-arms or dynamite. And I used Market Square
for illustration. I said there was a system of canalization in large
cities. Now, supposing they expected an attack, they could, by the
use of a battery and dynamite, blow up whole regiments very easily.
I don’t think that I said what Wilkinson testified to here in regard
to the tunnel, but I may have given the talk a little color. I knew
he wanted a sensational article for publication in the _News_, but
there was no particular reference to Chicago, or any fighting on our
part. The topic of the conversation was that a fight was inevitable,
and that it might take place in the near future, and what might and
could be done in such an event. It was a general discussion of the
possibilities of street warfare under modern science.
“I wrote the word ‘Ruhe’ for insertion in the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ on
May 4th. It happened just the same as with any other announcement
that would come in. I received a batch of announcements from a number
of labor organizations and societies a little after eleven o’clock,
in my editorial room, and went over them. Among them was one which
read: ‘Mr. Editor, please insert in the letter-box the word ‘Ruhe,’
in prominent letters.’ This was in German. There is an announcement
column of meetings in the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_, but a single word or
something like that would be lost sight of under the announcements.
In such cases people generally ask to have that inserted under the
head of ‘Letter-box.’ Upon reading that request, I just took a piece
of paper and marked on it ‘Briefkasten’ (Letter-box), and the word
‘Ruhe.’ The manuscript which is in evidence is in my handwriting. At
the time I wrote that word and sent it up to be put in the paper,
I did not know of any import whatever attached to it. My attention
was next called to it a little after three o’clock in the afternoon.
Balthasar Rau, an advertising agent of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_, came
and asked me if the word ‘Ruhe’ was in the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_. I had
myself forgotten about it, and took a copy of the paper and found it
there. He asked me if I knew what it meant, and I said I did not. He
said there was a rumor that the armed sections had held a meeting the
night before, and had resolved to put in that word as a signal for
the armed sections to keep themselves in readiness in case the police
should precipitate a riot, to come to the assistance of the attacked.
I sent for Fischer, who had invited me to speak at the meeting
that evening, and asked him if that word had any reference to that
meeting. He said, ‘None whatever;’ that it was merely a signal for the
boys—for those who were armed to keep their powder dry, in case they
might be called upon to fight within the next days. I told Rau it was
a very silly thing, or at least that there was not much rational sense
in that, and asked him if he knew how it could be managed that this
nonsense would be stopped; how it could be undone. Rau said he knew
some persons who had something to say in the armed organizations, and
I told him to go and tell them that the word was put in by mistake.
Rau went pursuant to that suggestion, and returned to me at five
o’clock.
“I was not a member of any armed section. I have not been for
six years. I have had in my desk for two years two giant-powder
cartridges, a roll of fuse and some detonating caps. Originally
I bought them to experiment with them, as I had read a good deal
about dynamite and wanted to get acquainted with it, but I never had
occasion to go out for that purpose, as I was too much occupied. The
reporters used to bother me a good deal, and when they would come to
the office for something sensational I would show them these giant
cartridges. They are the same that were referred to here by certain
witnesses as having been shown on the evening of the Board of Trade
demonstration. One of them will yet show a little hole in which I
put that evening one of those caps, to explain to the reporter how
terrible a thing it was. In fact, if that cartridge, as it is, were
exploded in a free place, it would just give a detonation, and the
concussion of the air might throw one on the floor, but it could
do no harm to anybody. I know absolutely nothing about the package
of dynamite which was exhibited here in court, and was claimed to
have been found on a shelf in a closet in the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_
building. I never saw it before it was produced here in court. I don’t
know anything about a revolver claimed to have been found in the
_Arbeiter-Zeitung_. That was not my revolver, but I always carried a
revolver. I had a very good revolver. I was out late at night, and I
always considered it a very good thing to be in a position to defend
myself. Strangely, I did not have that pistol with me on the night of
the Haymarket. It was too heavy for me, and, while I took it along
first, I left it with ex-Alderman Stauber on my way. I guess it is
there now.
“I was arrested on Wednesday morning after the Haymarket meeting,
about half-past eight o’clock, at the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ editorial
room. I had begun writing. I had come to the office a little after
seven o’clock, as usual. A man who afterwards told me he was an
officer, James Bonfield, asked Mr. Schwab and myself to come over
to police headquarters; that Superintendent Ebersold wanted to have
a talk with us on the affair of the previous night. I was very busy
and asked him if it could not be delayed until after the issue of
the paper. He said he would rather have me come along then, and I,
unsuspectingly, went along to the station. The Superintendent received
us by saying: ‘You dirty Dutch —— ——, you dirty hounds, you rascals,
we will choke you; we will kill you.’ And then they jumped upon us,
tore us from one end to the other, went through our pockets, took
my money and everything I had. I never said anything. They finally
concluded to put us in a cell, and then Mr. Ebersold said: ‘Well,
boys, let’s be cool.’ I think Mr. James Bonfield interfered during the
assault made upon us by Mr. Ebersold, and suggested to him that that
was not the proper way nor the proper place. I have been continuously
confined from then until now.”
On cross-examination Spies stated:
“There was in fact no editor-in-chief of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_; there
was a kind of autonomous editorial arrangement, but I was looked to
as the editor-in-chief. I mean in the editorial department every one
wrote what he pleased, and it was published without my looking at
it. I never assumed any responsibility for the editorials. I never
was made responsible by the company for the management of the paper.
Schwab’s salary was the same as mine; our positions were coördinate.
The management of the paper was left with the board of trustees;
the editors had very little to say about it. Nobody looked over the
editorials before they were inserted. Contributed articles were
looked over sometimes by one of the reporters, sometimes by Schwab or
Schroeder, or myself. Schroeder was editor for four months. I usually
glanced at the paper to keep track of what it contained. Fischer was
merely a compositor of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_; he had nothing to do
with the editorials or management of the paper. I had nothing to do
with the _Alarm_, except for four or five weeks, when I edited it in
the absence of Mr. Parsons.”
“Was money ever sent you for the _Alarm_?”
“There was. I also paid the bills for the printing of the _Alarm_.”
“Did you ever write contributions for the _Alarm_?”
“I have occasionally, whenever they were in need of manuscript. Of
the bombs I had I received the two iron cast ones first. That was
about three years ago. A man who gave his name as Schwape or Schwoep
brought them to me. I only saw him once. I think he was a shoemaker,
came from Cleveland, and left for New Zealand. He asked me if my name
was Spies. I told him yes; and he asked me if I had seen any of the
bombs that they were making, or something like that. I don’t know to
whom he referred by ‘they.’ He spoke of people in Cleveland with whom
he had associated; I didn’t ask him and didn’t know what class of
people. I said I hadn’t seen any of them. I don’t remember anything
more about the conversation I had with him. I would have twelve or
fifteen conversations every day; this one was out of the order of
my regular conversations; my recollection is, I got rid of him as
soon as he would leave. He left those there; he said he would not
take them along. I didn’t ask him if he had any more with him. They
were bombs exploding by percussion, heavier on one side than on the
other, so that when they were thrown the cap would always come down.
I think they were at the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ on May 4. I never saw the
man before or after that. The other two bombs which Wilkinson called
‘Czar bombs,’ a term which I never used to him, were left one day, in
my absence, in the office. When I came from dinner I saw them on my
desk and was told that a man had brought them there to inquire whether
they were bombs of a good construction, and the man never called for
them. That was about a year and a half or two years ago. One I gave to
Wilkinson; the other one, I suppose, was at the office ever since. I
don’t know what became of it and of the two iron bombs. I had not seen
them for some time, but I thought they were at the office. I got the
dynamite about two years ago from the Ætna Powder Company. I got two
of those bars. My intention at first was to experiment with them.”
“What object did you have in experimenting with the dynamite?”
“I had read a great deal about dynamite and thought it would be a
good thing to get acquainted with its use, just the same as I would
take a revolver and go out and practice with it. I don’t want to say,
however, that it was merely for curiosity. I can give no further
explanation. I got the caps and the fuse, because I would need them to
experiment with. I was never present, to the best of my recollection,
when experiments were made with dynamite. Neither bombs nor dynamite
were ever distributed through the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ office. I did
not tell Mr. Wilkinson that they were. I never handled any dynamite
outside of the two cartridges; never had anything to do with the
distribution of dynamite. I know Herr Most; I guess I have known him
for three years. This letter here is from Most. I do not know whether
I answered that letter. I cannot remember.”
“In whose handwriting is this postal card?”
“It is Most’s handwriting. I suppose I received it—I see my address
on it. I do not remember having read that postal or this letter at
this date. I don’t remember the contents of that letter. I have
undoubtedly received and read it, but don’t recollect anything about
it now. I never carried on any correspondence with Most. I don’t
remember whether I answered the postal card, and whether I said or
wrote to Most anything in regard to the inquiries made of me in this
letter. I know positively I did not give him the directions where
to ship the material mentioned in the letter. There may have been a
letter addressed in my care which I may have sent to Most, but I know
absolutely nothing outside of that.
“As to the phrase, ‘The social revolution,’ which occurs in my
writings, I mean by it the evolutionary process, or changes from one
system to another, which take place in society; I meant a change from
a wage system, from the present relations between labor and capital,
to some other system. By the abolition of the wage system I mean the
doing away with the spoliation of labor, making the worker the owner
of his own product.
“I was invited to go to the Haymarket meeting at nine o’clock on
Tuesday, by Mr. Fischer. It was about eleven o’clock when I objected
to that last line in the circular. I objected to that principally
because I thought it was ridiculous to put a phrase in which would
prevent people from attending the meeting. Another reason was that
there was some excitement at that time, and a call for arms like that
might have caused trouble between the police and the attendants of
that meeting. I did not anticipate anything of the kind, but I thought
it was not a proper thing to put that line in. I wrote the ‘Revenge’
circular, everything except the word ‘Revenge.’ I wrote the words,
‘Workingmen, to arms!’ When I wrote it I thought it was proper; I
don’t think so now. I wrote it to arouse the working people, who are
stupid and ignorant, to a consciousness of the condition that they
were in, not to submit to such brutal treatment as that by which they
had been shot down at McCormick’s on the previous day. I wanted them
not to attend meetings under such circumstances, unless they could
resist. I did not want them to do anything in particular—I did not
want to do anything. That I called them to arms is a phrase, probably
an extravagance. I did intend that they should arm themselves. I have
called upon the workingmen for years and years, and others have done
the same thing before me, to arm themselves. They have a right, under
the Constitution, to arm themselves, and it would be well for them
if they were all armed. I called on them to arm themselves, not for
the purpose of resisting the lawfully constituted authorities of the
city and county, in case they should meet with opposition from them,
but for the purpose of resisting the unlawful attacks of the police
or the unconstitutional and unlawful demands of any organization,
whether police, militia or any other. I have not urged them in my
speeches and editorials to arm themselves in order to bring about a
social revolution or in order to overthrow the lawful authority of the
country.”
The letter referred to as that of Most, which was in German, and which
was dated 1884, was then put in evidence and read, as follows:
“_Dear Spies_:—Are you sure that the letter from the Hocking Valley
was not written by a detective? In a week I will go to Pittsburg,
and I have an inclination to go also to the Hocking Valley. For the
present I send you some printed matter. There Sch. ‘H.’ also existed
but on paper. I told you this some months ago. On the other hand I am
in a condition to furnish ‘medicine,’ and the ‘genuine’ article at
that. Directions for use are perhaps not needed with these people.
Moreover they were recently published in the ‘Fr.’ The appliances I
can also send. Now, if you consider the address of Buchtell thoroughly
reliable, I will ship twenty or twenty-five pounds. But how? Is there
an express line to the place, or is there another way possible?
Paulus, the Great, seems to delight in hopping around in the swamps of
the N. Y. V. Z. like a blown-up (bloated) frog. His tirades excite
general detestation. He has made himself immensely ridiculous. The
main thing is only that the fellow cannot smuggle any more rotten
elements into the newspaper company than are already in it. In this
regard, the caution is important to be on the minute. The organization
here is no better nor worse than formerly. Our group has about the
strength of the North Side group in Chicago; and then, besides this,
we have also the Soc. Rev. § 1, the Austrian League and the Bohemian
League, so to say three more groups. Finally, it is easily seen that
our influence with the trade organizations is steadily growing. We
insert our meetings in the Fr., and cannot notice that they are worse
attended than at the time when we got through weekly $1.50 to $2.00
into the mouth of the N. Y. V. Z. Don’t forget to put yourself into
communication with Drury in reference to the English organ. He will
surely work with you much and well. Such a paper is more necessary as
to the truth. This, indeed, is getting more miserable and confused
from issue to issue, and in general is whistling from the last hole.
Enclosed is a fly-leaf which recently appeared at Emden, and is
perhaps adapted for reprint. Greeting to Schwab, Rau and to you. Yours,
“JOHANN MOST.
“P. S.—To Buchtell I will, of course, write for the present only in
general terms.
“A. SPIES, No. 107 Fifth Avenue, Chicago, Illinois.”
The postal card referred to was also put in evidence and read, as
follows:
“L. S. (_Dear Spies_:) I had scarcely mailed my letter yesterday when
the telegraph brought news from H. M. One does not know whether to
rejoice over that or not. The advance is in itself elevating. Sad is
the circumstance that it will remain local, and, therefore, might not
have a result. At any rate, these people make a better impression than
the foolish voters on this and the other side of the ocean. Greetings
and a shake.
“Yours,
J. M.”
ALBERT R. PARSONS made the following statement in his own behalf:
“I have resided in Chicago for thirteen years. I was born June 20,
1848. On Sunday, May 2, I was in the city of Cincinnati, Ohio. Came
back from there to Chicago on Tuesday morning, May 4th, between seven
and eight o’clock. I caused a notice calling for a meeting of the
American group at 107 Fifth Avenue, on the evening of May 4th, to
be inserted in the _Daily News_ of that evening. In the evening I
left my house in company with Mrs. Holmes, my wife and two children,
about eight o’clock. We walked from home until we got to Randolph and
Halsted Streets. There I met two reporters that I have seen frequently
at workingmen’s meetings. One of them was a reporter whose name I
don’t know; the other was Mr. Heineman of the _Tribune_. There Mrs.
Holmes, my wife and children and myself took a car and rode directly
to the meeting at 107 Fifth Avenue. We arrived there about half-past
eight and remained about half an hour. After the business for which
the meeting had been called was about through, some one, I understood
it was a committee, came over from the Haymarket and said that there
was a large body of people and no speakers there except Mr. Spies,
and myself and Mr. Fielden were urged to come over to address the
mass-meeting. After finishing up the work, we adjourned and walked
over. Fielden and myself crossed the river through the tunnel.
There were three or four others present, but I don’t remember their
names. I think it was after nine o’clock when I reached the meeting
on Desplaines Street near the Haymarket. Mr. Spies was speaking. I
managed to squeeze through the crowd, was assisted upon the wagon at
once by some gentlemen standing about, and within a minute or two
Mr. Spies concluded, stated that I had arrived and would address the
meeting, and asked their attention while I was talking. I suppose I
spoke about three-quarters of an hour. At the close of my speech I
got down from the wagon. I think I was assisted by Henry Spies, who
was standing by the wagon. Then I went to the wagon which stood about
fifteen or twenty feet north of the speakers’ wagon, on which my wife
and Mrs. Holmes were seated, listening to us. I got into that wagon,
asked them how they were enjoying themselves, etc., and while talking
with them, about ten minutes later, a coolness in the atmosphere
attracted my attention. I looked up and observed white clouds rolling
over from the north, and as I didn’t want the ladies to get wet, I
went on to the speakers’ wagon and said: ‘Mr. Fielden, permit me to
interrupt you a moment.’ ‘Certainly,’ he said. And I said: ‘Gentlemen,
it appears as though it would rain. It is getting late. We might as
well adjourn anyway, but if you desire to continue the meeting longer,
we can adjourn to Zepf’s Hall, on the corner near by.’ Some one in
the crowd said: ‘No, we can’t; it is occupied by a meeting of the
furniture workers.’ With that I looked and saw the lights through the
windows of the hall, and said nothing further. Mr. Fielden remarked
that it did not matter; he had only a few words more to say. I went
over again to where the ladies were, helped them off the wagon and
told them to go down to this corner place, and we would all get
together and go home. They walked off, and some one detained me for
a moment; then I followed them and met near the edge of the crowd a
man whom I knew very familiarly—Mr. Brown. I asked him to have a
drink with me, as the speaking had made me hoarse, and we moved off
a little in the rear of the ladies, to the saloon. There had been no
appearance of the police, no explosion or any disturbance up to that
time. As I entered the saloon I noticed some four or five gentlemen
standing at the bar. There were possibly as many as ten people sitting
at tables on the other side next the wall, and about five or six men
standing in the center of the floor talking to each other, among whom
I noticed Mr. Malkoff, talking to a gentleman whom I did not know,
but I supposed he was a reporter. He was upon the witness-stand in
this trial. I believe it was Mr. Allen. The ladies took seats about
ten feet from the door, in the saloon, at the end of the first table,
with their backs to it, looking into the street. I said something to
them, and I believe just then I introduced some one to Mrs. Parsons.
Afterwards I went to the bar with Brown, and we had a glass of beer
and a cigar. Then I turned around and noticed Mr. Fischer sitting at
one of the tables and said a few words to him and sat down at the
table for a few moments. Then I think I went around to where the
ladies were, and I was standing near them looking out and wondering
if the meeting would not close, anxious to go home. All at once I
saw an illumination. It lit up the whole street, followed instantly
by a deafening roar, and almost simultaneously volleys of shots
followed, every flash of which, it seemed to me, I could see. The best
comparison I can make in my mind is that it was as though a hundred
men held in their hands repeating revolvers and fired them as rapidly
as possible until they were all gone. That was the first volley. Then
there were occasional shots, and one or two bullets whistled near
the door and struck the sign. I was transfixed. Mrs. Parsons did not
move. In a moment two or three men rushed breathlessly in at the door.
That broke the apparent charm that was on us by the occurrence in the
street, and with that I called upon my wife and Mrs. Holmes to come
with me to the rear of the saloon. We remained there, possibly, twenty
minutes or so.”
On cross-examination Parsons said:
“I was born in Montgomery, Alabama. Since I came to Chicago I worked
as a type-setter for the first eight or nine years; then for a year
and a half myself and wife had a suit business on Larrabee street;
then for about a year and a half myself and wife made ladies’ wrappers
and suits, and I went out soliciting orders. For the last two years,
since October, 1884, I was editor of the _Alarm_. It was a weekly
paper for about a year, and then a semi-monthly. I wrote down the
memorandum of my utterances on the night of May 4th, which I used
in giving my testimony as to my speech, from time to time, as they
occurred to me, and in looking over Mr. English’s report. When I
referred to the methods which the Chicago _Times_ and the Chicago
_Tribune_ and Tom Scott advised against striking workingmen, I told
them they should defend themselves against such things in any way they
could, by arming, if necessary. I did not mention dynamite at that
meeting. I possibly mentioned it at other meetings. I said nothing
about bombs that night, neither as a defensive means, or something
to use against them. I did not, when I said that the present social
system must be changed in the interest of humanity, explain to them
how the social change should be brought about, because I did not know
myself. I think I told the audience that the existing order of things
was founded upon and maintained by force, and that the actions of the
monopolists and corporations would drive the people into the use of
force before they could obtain redress. I might have stated that—I
am not sure. I did not tell them that the ballot was useless for
them because the majority was against them. That is not correct; the
workingmen are vastly in the majority. I did not tell them that night
that the only way they could obtain their rights was by overturning
the existing order of things by force. I could not tell whether there
were any strikers present that night. There were very few Socialists
present. I am a Socialist. I am an Anarchist, as I understand it.”
W. A. S. GRAHAM, a reporter with no Anarchistic tendencies, had
interviewed Harry Gilmer at the City Hall as to what he had seen at the
Haymarket and who threw the bomb.
HARRY GILMER was then recalled by the defendants and stated that he had
seen the gentleman (pointing to Graham) at the Central Station, and
that he (Graham) asked him if he could identify the man who threw the
bomb. Gilmer had answered that he could if he saw him. Witness did not
say during the conversation that he saw the man throw the bomb, but
that the man had his back to him and had whiskers. Witness did not say
that the man was of medium size with dark clothes, and that he saw him
light the fuse and throw the bomb.
Mr. Graham was recalled and stated that the man (Gilmer) just on
the stand had told him that he saw the man light the fuse and throw
the bomb, and that he could identify him if he saw him. Gilmer told
him that the man was of medium height, and thought he had whiskers
and wore a soft black hat, but had his back turned toward him. On
cross-examination witness said:
“I had this conversation about four o’clock in the afternoon of May
5th. I talked with him about three or four minutes. He said nothing
about there being more than one man at that location, a knot of men,
or anything of that kind. He said that one man lighted the fuse and
threw the bomb; he did not say anything about how it was lighted,
whether with a match or a cigar, I did not ask him that. He said he
was standing in Crane’s alley when it was done.
This closed the evidence for the defense, and by agreement several
newspaper articles and an address of Victor Hugo to the “Rich and Poor”
were introduced. The State then proceeded to put in rebutting testimony.
DANIEL SCULLY, a justice of the peace, was first examined. He stated
that at the preliminary examination, held on the 25th of May, Officer
Wessler had not stated in his testimony that Stenner was the man who
fired the shot from the wagon; neither had Officer Foley so stated.
“Did he, at that time, give a description of the man who fired the
shot over the wagon that night as a stout man with heavy whiskers,
saying at the same time that if he ever saw him again he thought he
could identify him?” “Yes, sir. Stenner was discharged upon that
examination.”
INSPECTOR JOHN BONFIELD met Mr. Simonson, a witness in this case,
at the police station on the night of the Haymarket riot. The man
was introduced to him by Capt. Ward as a member of the firm of J. V.
Farwell & Co.
“We three stood together outside of the railing. Mr. Simonson opened
the conversation by remarking to me that he understood that the horses
belonging to the Police Department were getting used up with the
constant work they had, and that either Mr. Farwell or the firm—I
understood him to say Mr. Farwell—that their horses were at our
service in case we needed any horses. I told him that our teams had
stood the work so far very well, but that if the troubles continued
for any length of time we would likely need assistance and would call
upon him if occasion demanded it, thanking him for his offer. He
then spoke about the trouble at McCormick’s and on Centre Avenue and
Eighteenth Street that afternoon, and said the police ought to have
dispersed those crowds; not to have allowed them to collect. I did
not, in the course of that conversation, tell him that I would like to
get a crowd of 3,000 without any women and children, and in that case
would make short work of them, or anything to that effect.”
The most important part of the work done by the State at this phase
of the proceedings was the strong indorsement of Harry W. Gilmer’s
veracity which was produced before the jury. To the credibility of
this witness, and to their acquaintance with, and respect for him, the
following persons testified: Judge Tuthill of the Superior Court, Chas.
A. Dibble, John Steele, Michael Smith, Benjamin F. Knowles, Chester C.
Cole, ex-Judge of the Supreme Court of Iowa, Edward R. Mason, Clerk of
the U. S. Circuit Court at Des Moines, Samuel Merrill, President of
the Citizens’ National Bank of Des Moines, Canute R. Matson, Sheriff
of Cook County, Sylvanus Edinburn, W. P. Hardy, John L. Manning, an
attorney, and many others. Many of these witnesses had known Gilmer in
Iowa for many years; others were old acquaintances of his in Chicago;
all of them swore that he was worthy of belief.