Sworn to before me this 11th day of October, 1900.
FRANK MOSS, Notary Public, N. Y. County.
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_City and County of New York, ss._:
William J. Elliott, being duly sworn, says:
My name is William J. Elliott. I reside at 209 East 59th Street.
At the time of the riot, on August 15th, I lived at 327 West 35th
Street. I moved from that side of the town right at once on account
of the riot. I am twenty-six years of age and weigh about 130 pounds,
and am employed at the Hotel Imperial. I have been there nearly two
years. I finished my grammar school education in 1887. I entered the
Florida State Normal College in 1894; I was there for two sessions,
from '94 to '95. I left there and entered into a drug firm by the name
of Martinez & Co., Jacksonville, Florida, as an apprentice to study
pharmacy, and in less than a year my advancement was so good I was made
a prescriptionist. I then came to New York and entered a drug firm by
the name of C. K. Harris Beach Pharmacy at Atlantic City, N. J. I was
a trustworthy man there, generally useful; during one fall had entire
charge of one of two of Mr. Harris' drug stores in Atlantic City. Mr.
Harris sold out, and after that I sought other work, and I came here
to New York City. My intention has been to accumulate enough money to
take a pharmaceutical course. On the night of August 14th there came a
colored man to the Hotel Imperial and informed the front door man that
there were riots in the street and that there was no way of getting
home. This was between nine and ten o'clock in the evening. About 12:15
I was off duty, and left the hotel with John Chism, the front door
man; we went out to investigate and see if the boys could get home. We
had no sooner got to 6th Avenue and 31st Street than a fierce mob came
chasing down the street and in hot pursuit of a colored man, yelling,
"Kill the nigger! Lynch him!" We then ran towards Broadway, and were
met there by Mr. Murphy, a man who keeps a saloon at 31st Street and
6th Avenue. He advised us to go at once back to the hotel and to tell
the chief, Mr. Roberts, to keep all of his men in the hotel that night
or they would get killed. We went back, and I delivered the message to
Chief Roberts, and he advised and told all the men to stay in. Chism,
Travers, and myself came out to the front door again, and saw a Negro
running for his life by the Hotel Imperial through 32nd Street towards
5th Avenue, with a mad crowd behind him. Then we were made to come into
the hotel by the chief, as the hotel people were afraid that the mob
might attack the house. I remained in the hotel all night. Mr. Chism
and I tried to get a closed cab to drive three of us home, but the
cabman said he would not drive us home for $500. This was the night
of the riot in which so many were injured. At five o'clock the next
morning I left the Hotel Imperial to go home with Leon Vonce. I walked
as far as 36th Street and 8th Avenue with him, as I intended to go
to his home with him, as he was very anxious about his wife; he was
afraid she might have been attacked. When we got to the corner of 36th
Street and 8th Avenue I saw a big white man jump on one of two colored
boys, whom I know to be hotel boys going to their work. I got a little
uneasy at the sights I saw, and I saw some blood on the sidewalk, and
Leon Vonce said to me, "You had better turn around and go home," and I
did, and went to bed. At half past eleven I awoke and dressed myself
and got out of the house by a quarter to twelve noon, and got as far
as Rocky's drug store, corner 34th Street and 8th Avenue. A white boy
standing on the corner said to me, "You had better go away from around
here, or you will get killed." I then noticed groups of boys and men
running from 34th Street down 8th Avenue; they were right across the
street from me, and at sight of them I became afraid that they would
attack me and I ran home. I had, however, to get to my work, as I knew
the hotel people needed me, and I was afraid that some of the other men
would not be able to get back to the hotel; so after a little while I
made another attempt to go to the hotel. I went out of the house. I was
then addressed by a white man, who seemed to be much of a gentleman. He
says (this was when I reached 8th Avenue), "For God's sake, boy, you
had better go away from here. Go ahead, jump on that car; they just
near killed a colored man across the street." Then as he said that I
heard the crowd yell, "There's a nigger! there's a nigger! Catch him!"
Luckily for me, I jumped on a car and there was a colored boy on the
corner by Comford Brothers' saloon. The mob saw him and ran after him;
they caught the colored boy and the mob grabbed and gathered around
him. They were rough-looking fellows, and I could not see what they
did to the colored boy, for he was in the center of this mob. The car
I jumped on was a green car and went across 9th Avenue on 34th Street.
I jumped off at 9th Avenue, and just as I left the car there were four
big white fellows said, "There's a d----d nigger!" and they started
at me, and I ran home as hard as I could, and when I reached home I
was all out of breath. When I got home the folks at home asked me if I
had anything to protect myself. I told them no, I had nothing; I never
had any use for such things. There was a colored gentleman stopping
there, Mr. Miles. He said it was very dangerous for me to go out, but
if I intended going out at all he had a little gun upstairs, which
probably would be some protection from the mob. I thanked him very
much, and took the gun, a little .22 caliber revolver. I still felt it
necessary for me to go back to the hotel, and I thought I would get
back by going another way, and for an hour and a half I stood on my
stoop and in the house at times waiting for an opportunity to get by
the crowd on 8th Avenue and elsewhere; this was about half past two
or quarter to three in the afternoon. I started and went west towards
9th Avenue, thinking I could take a car going north to 42nd Street,
and then across 42nd Street and down Broadway to the Hotel Imperial
at 32nd Street and Broadway. Just as I got to 35th Street and turned
the corner on 9th Avenue there was a mob of three or four hundred men
and boys just below me coming up 9th Avenue, screaming and hollering
and following a car and yelling, "Take the nigger off the car!" "Catch
the nigger!" and "Kill the nigger!" and I turned then and I ran up 9th
Avenue as hard as I could from the mob, and I ran into a pawnbroker's
shop, Mr. Weaver's pawnshop. I stood behind the closed doors, and
through the small openings or blinds that the pawnbrokers have over
their doors I could see that part of the big crowd that stood in front
of the pawnbroker's shop, many of whom were lined up on the sidewalk
across the street. I could also see a policeman trying to disperse the
men with his club. He was hitting with his club right and left to clear
the sidewalk. I saw three guns hanging in the pawnbroker's window, and
I said to the pawnbroker, "Let me see those guns there." I had not any
intention of buying the guns, and did not buy them, but I thought it
would be a bluff to make the crowd think I had something. I told the
pawnbroker's clerk I did not want a gun at that time, I would come
back. While I was pricing the guns a great big white fellow opened the
door, put his head in, and looked suspiciously around the room. He
gave me one of those staring looks, and then shut the door. Then Mr.
Weaver, the owner of the pawnshop, said, "Don't you go out there; they
are waiting out there for you; they will beat you." After staying there
for over half an hour, listening to the hollering outside of "Kill the
nigger!" "Lynch the nigger!" and the crowd running about the street
chasing other negroes, a great many of whom lived in that locality, I
asked the clerk if I could go upstairs and hide, as I was afraid they
might come in after me; but he said, "No one dasen't come in here."
Shortly after this conversation I asked this clerk if it was safe to
go out. He said yes, the crowd was chased down the Avenue. I also asked
Mr. Weaver if it was safe to go out now. He said he thought everything
was over now. I went to the door and peeped out, and I only saw a few
people in groups and four boys standing right at the pawnbroker's door
a little to the left of me. I called to one of these white boys, and
asked him if it was safe for me to go out. He asked me where did I want
to go. I told his as far as 42nd Street. He said, "Go to one of those
cops and he will take you up." I saw some cops at 36th Street corner.
I started toward the cops to ask them to take me up to 42nd Street,
but I had not gone half a dozen steps towards where the cops were when
a man in citizen's clothes grabbed me. I learned afterwards he was an
officer, and he asked me where I was going. I told him I was trying
to get to my work. He asked me what I was doing in a pawnbroker's
shop. Before I could explain he said I had bought a gun, and commenced
to search me. At that time there were four policemen around me. The
little .22 caliber gun he found and took from my pocket. I offered
no resistance, and only asked him for protection from the mob, which
commenced to gather again, and were now yelling, "Kill the nigger!"
"Lynch the nigger!" This mob came up close behind me with sticks and
stones. One of the officers knocked on the sidewalk with his club, and
there were about half a dozen more officers ran to us to keep the mob
off me. The mob was kept off me, and the officer in citizen's clothes
and a policeman in uniform took hold of each of my shoulders and four
policemen followed behind me. The mob went along too, yelling and
screaming, "Kill the nigger!" "Lynch the nigger!" We went west on 37th
Street towards the 37th Street station, which is between 9th and 10th
Avenues, when we turned into 37th Street. Then the two officers in
charge of me and two more behind me took me to the 37th Street station
house. Up to this time I had not received a blow, and was not injured
in any way. They stood me before a man who sat behind a desk in the
station house. There were lots of people there. Some of the men were in
citizens' clothes. The man behind the desk said to the officer who had
me in charge, "What is the charge against this man?" and the officer
in citizen's clothes said, "Carrying a concealed weapon he bought out
of a pawnshop." I said, "I did not buy any weapon there," and the man
behind the desk said, "Don't dictate to us about what you did not do,"
and then I started to tell him about my reputation and not being a
rioter, and that I was only trying to get to my work. He said, "We
have got no time to look up your reputation. Lock him up." I was taken
by the jailer who is in the station house, and he said, "Come on," and
took hold of me. There were two doors leading from the office into the
muster room, and I went to get through the left-hand door. Right beside
the door in the station house was a policeman leaning against the
door. As I passed him he threw out his foot and tripped me. I stumbled
but did not fall. I did not see the jailer; he let go of my coat he
had hold of. I looked around at the man who tripped me. As I looked
around another policeman struck me on the jaw with his fist; then
another struck me in the back of the head with his club, and all the
policemen in the muster room jumped up and jumped on me, yelling, "Kill
him!" "Kill the nigger!" I still stood up and received many punches.
I begged for mercy, and did not weaken until an officer struck me in
the temple with his billy, and everything was dark around me. I fell
down, and I could still feel them kicking and beating me about. This
time the man behind the desk, who I believe is Captain Cooney, rushed
in and said, "Don't kill that man in here. The reporters are out here,
and there is going to be a charge made against you, and if another man
touches a prisoner in here I will take a hand in it myself;" and he
says, "Lock that man up." At that time I held my hands above my head
and was running around trying to find the doorway to the cells. I was
then taken and locked up. I am still sick and ill from the blows that
I received, and my right eye is affected. It quivers and is bloodshot,
and the right part of my head and temple is sore. I stayed in the
police station all night, and sent a telegram to the hotel people at
the Imperial, and the manager sent a detective over to get me out,
but the detective was afraid to take me out. The next morning I was
arraigned before Magistrate Cornell for carrying a concealed weapon.
Magistrate Cornell picked up the pistol and said, "Is this your gun?"
and laughed, and said that a man with a bad reputation would carry
no such gun as that; but he said, "We will have to charge you three
dollars for carrying a concealed weapon." I paid the fine and went
straight to Travers' house, where my head was bathed in hot water and
alcohol, and he rubbed my side and back. I remained there in bed all
day. I was unable to work for two days, and then I went back. Since I
went back Captain Cooney has sent for me twice, but I have been afraid
to go back there. I can bring more evidence to show that after I came
out of the police station my head was swollen half its size again,
and I could hardly open my mouth, and for two days I had difficulty in
eating. I cannot open my mouth right wide now.