NEW FORCES IN THE FIELD.
In casting about me for a chief assistant of Mr. Franklin and co-worker
with McParlan, in the coal country, I was quick in deciding that the
very man, of all others among my large number of operatives, was Robert
J. Linden, then of Chicago, a gentleman who had long been connected with
the Agency, and in whose courage, judgment, and discretion I could place
implicit reliance, and this from the reason that all of these qualities
were united in his mind and body, and had received abundant trial during
the time he had remained in my service. Capt. Linden was eminently
qualified to assume a leading part in such a hazardous undertaking as we
were to enter upon in Pennsylvania. A man of attractive personal
appearance, captivating address, great energy and perseverance, and with
more than ordinary powers of perception, I knew he would make an
excellent open operator, when the time might arrive for that kind of
business. About forty years of age, tall, powerful in frame and physical
organization, with black, close-curling hair, whiskers and mustache of
the same texture and color, blue eyes, which were expressive of
confidence, and just the kind of orbs to win the confidence of others,
Linden was a person who could ably command my coal police. A native of
Pennsylvania; at an early day a ship carpenter by trade; possessed of a
fair education and many qualities of head and heart to entitle him to
esteem and regard, I wished for no better man. He had performed labor
for the Philadelphia office previous to 1871, was then detailed to
Chicago, and engaged in the responsible position of Lieutenant on my
local Preventive Watch. So well did he perform his duty there, that when
my son William, several years since, went to Europe on business of the
Agency, I appointed Linden to temporarily fill his place in the
detective corps. He was yet acting as an Assistant Superintendent, and
permanently located, with his estimable family, in Chicago. The only
cause of hesitation that I felt in returning him to Pennsylvania, was
found in the separation from his wife and children that must necessarily
ensue. Still, no other officer that I could spare from the west would
fill the position so well, and he was therefore directed to report in
Philadelphia at once. His experience in the navy, during the late war,
had given him confidence and coolness under trying circumstances, with
capacity for the training and management of bodies of men, and I was
certain that there would be no needless delay in making his appearance,
ready and willing to perform his task. Nor was I disappointed. Linden
soon reached Philadelphia, accompanied by a detail of six stalwart
men—partly chosen from the Chicago Preventive Watch, and partly from the
Detective Department—and there received his orders and instructions.
Without resting a single day, he entered upon his labors, taking the
cars for Pottsville, Friday, the sixth of May, 1875. Once in that city,
where he arrived a little after noon, he took his men to the Merchant’s
Hotel, directing them to remain and await his return, and then hunted
out General Pleasants, to whom he delivered his letter of introduction.
The General received him cordially and at once sent for Mr. Heisler. A
long consultation between the three men ensued, during which plans were
exhaustively discussed and arrangements carefully made to cover every
conceivable condition of affairs. Then followed the induction of the men
I had sent into the Coal and Iron Police, which ceremony transpired at
the court-house and consisted in taking the usual oath of office. After
this the six officers parted company, according to orders, going in
pairs, in different directions, with strict instructions to make their
headquarters at a certain place, and then survey carefully their field
of operations, gaining, by actual experience, a correct knowledge of the
shape and character of the country, the towns, villages, patches,
collieries, creeks and rivers, mountains and ravines, so that, in the
performance of their work, they might have no trouble in finding their
route, without inquiry, from one place to another, even in the darkness
of night. Two men were sent to Locust Run, two to Boston Colliery, and
two to Tunnel Colliery. Mr. Linden received a commission, showing that
he was given full control of these policemen. Among the arrangements was
a cipher for communicating with General Pleasants, and badges for the
men to wear. Mr. Linden—or Captain Linden, as he was soon to be
called—made a visit to Ashland on the eighth, where he tarried for
several days gaining such information as might prove of value during the
summer. At Ashland, on the fourteenth, he was introduced to his
assistants, chosen from the Coal and Iron Police, by Mr. Heisler, and
found them of the right class, the majority having served with honor as
soldiers during the war.
Soon afterward the Captain was made acquainted with Barney Dolan, of Big
Mine Run, which is not far from Ashland.
In the meantime, McKenna had visited Ashland, and meeting Linden
privately at a hotel, they adjourned to a place where they conversed
over a social glass of beer. It did not consume many minutes to agree
upon a means of communication and a point in the bush where, the proper
signal being given by either party, they might subsequently meet and
hold private discourse. It was so fixed that one could send a letter to
the other without the possibility of any third person suspecting their
correspondence. There was only one thing that seemed impossible to be
provided for and guarded against. This was the necessity existing for
Linden suddenly going from place to place, as the acts of the Mollies
might demand. All they were enabled to do in this regard was to promise
to write each other, as often as it would be prudent, and plainly set
forth the spot removing to, at as early an hour as practicable. McKenna
would hardly know in advance when he might need Linden, and Linden would
probably be unable to say, should violence and outrage continue to
increase, where he might be most in demand. Still, every precaution was
taken to have their whereabouts known one to the other. After their
meeting, McKenna returned to his friends and Linden to his headquarters.
To go back a few days: On the third of May, and subsequent to McKenna’s
first council with Linden, the former took the train for Pottsville,
where he was under promise to meet County Delegate Kehoe. Court was in
session, and their business, connected with the trial of Dan Dougherty,
for killing the Chief Burgess of Mahanoy City, resulted, as before
stated, in the defendant’s acquittal. Among those that the detective
encountered during this visit were Alex. Campbell, of Summit Hill, and
John Gallagher, with many other Mollie Maguires, all of whom were deeply
interested in the result of Dougherty’s case. There was great rejoicing
indulged in, and much drink consumed, when their friend secured release.
He was quickly taken possession of by his brother Mollies, and in their
company made a night of it. Schuylkill County Jail was voted a good
place for most people, but for a Mollie past endurance.
The return of Dougherty to Mahanoy City, an event occurring about the
ninth of May, was made remarkable by a prompt renewal of hostilities
between the lately liberated man and Jesse Major, a brother of
Dougherty’s former victim. Major was at the time accompanied by Wm. M.
Thomas, _alias_ “Bully Bill,” a notorious desperado, who was known to be
opposed to the Mollies and always ready to pull a revolver and shoot,
upon the slightest possible provocation. Dougherty was fired upon and
narrowly escaped death. Instead of calming the strife between the Welsh
and Irish miners, this encounter added fury to the fire, and it raged
more fiercely. The detective heard of the circumstance on the following
day, and made up his mind that, if the feud was kept up, it could be but
a very short time before Mahanoy City would become a modern Gehenna.
In the meantime John Gibbons brought the startling information to the
Mollies of Shenandoah, one morning, that preparations were going on,
looking to the early resumption of work by the surrounding collieries,
and, this time, the Coal and Iron Company seemed determined to protect
their laborers with arms. He suggested that such a course must be
properly met by the Hibernians, force with force. The rumor was, that
the company had already stationed seven heavily armed policemen at Plank
Ridge Colliery, fourteen at West Shenandoah Colliery, and eleven at
Indian Ridge Colliery.
“And,” said Gibbons, with an oath, “the next thing to be done is for the
boys on our side to get their guns; for I hear that these new police are
all armed wid repeating rifles. If Irish miners are to be forced into
open war, we will at least have suitable arms!”
Gibbons was loudly applauded by the surrounding Mollies, and by none
more vociferously than by Jim McKenna, whose enthusiasm over the
prospect of a fight was unreasonable and knew no bounds.
The scene of warlike operations, judging by the number of outrages
committed, appeared just then to be transferred to parts of Columbia and
Northumberland Counties; hence, in accordance with Mr. Franklin’s
orders, as well as to give Linden a free course until he should be quite
familiar with his future field of campaign, McKenna resolved to pay a
visit to Canning, County Delegate, and resume the acquaintance of the
Mollies thereabouts, with whom he had previously made himself popular.
As an excuse for the trip, one day, after this idea was fully formed in
his mind, he gave out to Tom Donahue, brother of “Yellow Jack” Donahue,
that he had, when in the vicinity, not long before, formed a great
liking for the youngest daughter of the celebrated Pat Hester. The
latter was known to be at the head of the clan, as far as deviltry was
concerned, in that region. Donahue he knew to be an intimate friend of
Hester, quite at home at his house, and, McKenna had reason to believe,
knew more of the late troubles in that vicinity than some living in more
close neighborhood. Therefore, assuming a sober air, the operative made
known his wish to go to see Miss Hester, but he was rather bashful, and
did not exactly know how to accomplish a fair beginning of his proposed
courtship. He told his friend Tom, that “everything depended upon a good
commencement.” This was assented to by Donahue, who was on a protracted
spree, at Girardville, where this conversation occurred, in Jack Kehoe’s
hotel.
The idea of the devil-may-care Jim McKenna having experienced a qualm of
the tender passion caused Donahue to smile, but the confession of
embarrassment made him nearly go into convulsions of merriment. Such a
thing as bashfulness connected with McKenna—proverbial, the country
over, for the brassiness of his entire composition—was altogether too
much for Donahue. He roared with laughter, but soon found voice to
exclaim:
“An’ is it yourself that ye are, or some _cruddy gorsoon_, right from
the auld sod? Be me sowl, I niver entertained a thought that ye had a
shadow of bashfulness in your whole body until this minit!”
“Sure,” answered McKenna, blushing all over his face, like a verdant boy
being interrogated by a handsome school-mistress, “an’ I can’t be brass
through and through! There must be some tenderness in a fellow—an’ mine
is Pat Hester’s younger daughter. I’m free to confess it’s a new thing
for me, but there must be a starting, and I want to see her! I’m not
much acquainted with Pat, her father, an’ what I’m axin’ of you is to go
wid me to his house an’ give me an introduction to the whole family.
I’ll trate ye well if ye’ll do it!”
“I’ve only been away from there, this day’s but wan wake,” responded
Donahue; “beside, I’m out of money, an’ can’t get enough for me whisky,
let alone gallavantin’ around like a country parson. It costs cash to
ride on the cars, an’ I have none of the commodity, good, bad, or
indifferent!”
“That nade make no difference,” returned McKenna, “fur I’ll stand the
expense! You see I’ve had good luck in a ‘quare’ way, lately, an’ can
afford a bit of a lark! Jist join in wid me, we’ll go to Hester’s, have
a good time, an’ be back here in a few days!”
“I promised Jack Kehoe I’d help him wid his garden fence; but I’ll see!
If he’ll let me off, I’m yer man, an I’ll introduce ye to Pat Hester and
all the young Hesters wid pleasure!”
Kehoe was glad enough to get rid of Donahue, for a while—though he might
have particular use for such as he in a little time—as Tom drank more
whisky, by half, than would hire a man who could perform twice as much
work. So the two men started.
While _en route_, after having swallowed a few drinks, Donahue proved
very loquacious, and wanted to tell the detective all about the recent
destruction of Empire Colliery near Excelsior, but McKenna gently
stopped him, saying: “It is a courtin’ we are goin’, an’ not to a match
at telling long yarns!” This, as the officer had expected, only aroused
the pugnacity of his companion, and prompted him, from pure obstinacy,
to keep up the conversation. Once more recurring to the subject, he went
on—the hearer apparently absorbed in contemplation of the happiness in
store, through sparking Hester’s daughter, but, in reality, noting in
his mind the most trivial incident Donahue alluded to—and was telling,
not only of burnings in which he had been engaged, but in pointing out
those yet to be consummated in the locality. In this way the fellow was
literally pumped dry. Occasionally McKenna would interrupt the flow of
criminal talk with:
“But phat about Pat Hester’s daughter?”
“To h—l wid Pat Hester’s daughter!” would be the impatient reply of the
drunken Mollie, and then he would proceed, with much volubility and
extravagance of gesture, to unfold a new rascality, tell of late
outrages, and who had performed them, with a detail of fact and incident
convincing the detective that, with Donahue at least, the old saying,
_in vino veritas_, was as correct in modern times as in the days of
Imperial Rome, for the more whisky Donahue drank the more recklessly he
spoke the truth, and the more McKenna opposed his thus talking, the more
he would insist upon dwelling on the very topics that the operative
desired to hear about. In this way, out came the fact of the recent
burning of a bridge at the junction, when the watchman had run after and
fired upon the incendiaries. Donahue confessed to having burnt the
telegraph office in the neighborhood, himself, and said he was not yet
through. In several of the deeds he was not a participant, but he knew
something concerning all of them and who were the real perpetrators.
When the cars reached Locust Gap, McKenna and his, by this time, maudlin
companion, alighted, and went directly to the residence of Dennis F.
Canning, the County Delegate of Northumberland, but learned from Mrs.
Canning that her husband was absent, in Philadelphia, on business. They
could not remain there, so adjourned to Scott’s tavern, where Donahue
soon made himself ridiculous by quarreling with everybody, and the agent
was pleased to lead him away on the road to Locust Gap Junction, near
which place Hester resided. After a fatiguing walk, the drunken man
rallied a little and was sufficiently himself to point out certain
bridges that they had tried hard to burn. Donahue concluded, from their
ill success, that kerosene oil was not sufficient for setting fire to
heavy timbers. It might do with small trash, but utterly failed when
applied to large beams and girders. The watchman at this bridge was a
brother of Mrs. Hester, and Donahue said the structure would yet have to
go. Had not the powder been mismanaged it must have met destruction some
weeks before.
At this period another well-timed query about Miss Hester set Donahue’s
tongue running regarding the attack on Helfenstein’s, or Ben Franklin
Breaker, which he pointed out.
“It made a devilish fine blaze!” the Mollie said, in a tone of
exultation, “an’ the cowardly watchmen made no show of resistance!”
This breaker, after repeated notifications to its owners that it was in
danger, had been left to the care of one or two useless and cowardly
attendants, and was leveled to the ground. Donahue said that Enterprise
would have been left standing, had not the bosses continued to put good
miners out and blacklegs in, after notification to stop it. Then that
structure had to go the way of the others.
[Illustration: “_Here we are, at Pat. Hester’s, at last._”]
“Here we are at Pat Hester’s at last,” said Donahue, as they gained the
locality.
They entered the house and McKenna was placed on friendly terms with
Mrs. Hester and the boys—for Hester had a large family, several lads,
and two blooming daughters. Presently Donahue retired to the
sitting-room to visit the girls, leaving the operative to be entertained
by the old lady. This was a joke that McKenna appreciated, but the
tables were quickly turned upon Donahue, who was surprised, a moment
later, to see his former companion walk into the parlor with Mrs.
Hester, who gave him a favorable introduction to her daughters. They
were both handsome misses, as McKenna had previously been informed, and
received him very graciously. The conversation soon assumed a kindly and
interesting phase, despite Donahue’s condition. Even that tough customer
was somewhat sobered by his long walk on the railroad track.
Hester came home to dinner. In the meantime, McKenna had talked his best
to the fair one of his choice, whose name was Maria, and she seemed to
take his blarney with a good grace, but really giving him, in joke, as
good as he sent.
Pat Hester was a rather large, heavy man, with dark eyes and hair, the
latter worn long and turned under at the ends, with massive and stolid,
but by no means evil-looking features. He had a slightly wicked
expression in the eye, arching eyebrows, thin lips and a narrow
chin-whisker, the beard in hue a little lighter than the hair. In all,
he was not a man to fall in love with at first sight, yet wearing a
decent outward appearance, seemingly smart, and not ill-natured unless
provoked. When Hester reached home, after overseeing a gang of laborers
working on a railroad bridge, he met and was presented to McKenna.
Taking a natural fancy for him, Pat immediately suspected his object,
and gave the young man encouragement, that, if the lady was entirely
willing, the father had no sort of objection to the courtship. But after
dinner, and the departure of Hester to his labor, the arrival of Pat
McCool and Ned Skivington, the latter ex-County Delegate, interfered
considerably with the enjoyment of the ladies’ society, and the greater
part of the afternoon was passed by the Mollies in the bar-room. McCool
was an old acquaintance of McKenna’s, as he had many a time tasted his
liquor in Shenandoah. Of course he spoke favorably of the Secretary and
made much of him. Skivington was also very friendly. Toward night the
men walked out upon the track and met Hester returning. While passing a
bridge, just before, Donahue had whispered to McKenna:
“See that bridge! Now, for two hundred dollars from Pat Hester, I’d see
it well down wid the ground, but I’ll be hanged if I’d do it for
nothing!”
This was as good as a hint to the hearer that Donahue had been speaking
to Hester about destroying the bridge and disagreed with him as to the
amount to be received for the undertaking.
McKenna accepted the information with many nods, winks, and grimaces,
expressive of rapt attention and interest, without hazarding an opinion
on the subject for or against burning the bridge. But he thought that
here was another warning to be sent to Mr. Franklin.
[Illustration: “_That night there was an interesting group gathered in
Pat. Hester’s parlor._c]
That night there was an interesting group gathered in Pat Hester’s
parlor. The center lamp shone on the principal characters, bringing them
out in bold relief. Donahue sat in a big arm-chair, asleep. Whisky had
at last overpowered the redoubtable relative of “Yellow Jack,” and he
slept, his head hanging to one side, and occasionally starting up to
show that he still lived, and to save his neck from entire dislocation.
Pat Hester and his wife—the latter somewhat advanced in years, yet
spruce as a sunflower and as lively as a cricket—were opponents in a
game of euchre; the lady having McKenna as a partner, while Pat played
with his oldest son. One of the Misses Hester was busy sewing, and the
other—the younger, and McKenna’s particular affinity—sat at his elbow,
telling him how to marshal his cards in order to defeat her respected
father and brother at the game. She was bright and interesting, and no
fault can be found with the detective if he permitted his eyes to wander
occasionally from his hand to gaze into the blue depths of those of the
lady at his side. Knowing Pat Hester, as he did, there was no danger
that he would allow himself to go too far in his wooing. Indeed, there
chanced to be a charming girl living over at Tamaqua, that he had met at
the Polish wedding, and on whom much of his thoughts in that direction
were lavished. He could not forget the touch of those light hands, and
the velvet kisses he had received on the cheek so many weeks before. Yet
he had never met Miss Higgins the second time. He believed he would see
her some day, however, and determined to remain heart-whole until that
moment. Miss Hester’s case was a hopeless one. Still her assistance in
euchre was very convenient, and he could not help admiring the grace and
vivacity of the girl, notwithstanding her connections. When two games
had been finished, and success was about equal on either side, the house
was closed, and all, excepting McKenna and the young ladies, retired. It
was not quite morning when this trio separated, mutually pleased with
each other and the manner in which they had passed their time.
The next day McKenna left, receiving a warm and pressing invitation to
repeat his visit, which he was not slow in promising.
On the way home, Donahue, who had nearly recovered from his spree, only
to engage in another, gave the detective, in confidence, the
circumstances attending the cutting of the wire cable at Gordon
Plane—thus dropping down the cars and entailing much loss and delay for
the company—upon the space below, but fortunately taking no lives. He
also told him of the cruel beating of a boss, on the fourteenth of the
month, at Mt. Laffee, both outrages perpetrated by the Mollies. But he
was not so communicative in giving the authors of those deeds, if he
knew them, which might be suspected, as he was in the locality at the
time.
When McKenna returned to Shenandoah, he found more trouble awaiting him.
McAndrew, the Bodymaster, having for a long time been out of work, was
determined to go to Luzerne County, where somebody offered him
employment in the mines, near Wilkesbarre, and, on the night of the
seventeenth of May, gave notice, in open division, that he would have to
resign, or leave the books, papers, and business in McKenna’s hands
while he should be absent. All expressed regret that he must go, and
none more sincerely than the Secretary, in whose care the division would
be, in such an event, as there was no Vice-President and no other person
considered capable of occupying the managing position. After the close
of the meeting, McKenna tried his best to make McAndrew believe it his
duty to remain, whatever might happen, and even went as far as to
promise to use his own best efforts, and the entire influence of the
Mollies, in obtaining work for him if he would stay; but McAndrew’s mind
was fully made up. Go he would, and on the eighteenth he started, the
operative regretfully accompanying him to the train and wishing him “a
safe journey, good luck, and a quick return.” Here was a trial for the
detective. Here was that under which he well might tremble. The Mollies
all aroused—the wicked element in power—work hard to get—murder and
assassination riding rampant over the country, and he, the officer sent
to ferret out and report their operations and their misdeeds, acting as
the head of one of the most sanguinary divisions in Schuylkill County.
What if the order might chance to agree upon the killing of Jesse Major,
or Gomer James, or Wm. M. Thomas, or any one of the number who had been
secretly threatened with death? What if Jack Kehoe were to call upon him
for men to assassinate somebody? Evidently it would require his finest
ability to prevent himself from being drawn into the execution of crime,
which was foreign to his duty. What should he do? In which direction
should he turn?
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