THE LAST OF M^cKENNA.
When the detective, in accordance with his promise, appeared that
afternoon at Mahanoy Plane, he encountered Dennis Dowling and Tom
Donahue still hanging about Callaghan’s saloon. Both were a little more
sober than on the previous day, but not a whit the less inclined to pick
a quarrel with the man whose life they sought. It should be explained
here that this man, Donahue, was neither “Yellow Jack” Donahue, nor was
it the Tom Donahue, of Girardville, who had accompanied McKenna on his
visit to Pat Hester’s daughter, but a man in no way related to either of
those mentioned. McAndrew arrived there also, true to appointment,
saying he was in to see the affair through. It was fortunate for McKenna
that he had such valuable assistance. Had he gone to the place alone it
is more than probable he would have disappeared and no one ever been the
wiser. When they were by themselves, McAndrew remarked:
“It was well that you stopped at my house, last night. If you had
returned home, as you intended, I should never hay seen you again alive.
I met Cooney to-day, and he says men were waiting for you, and watching
all through the night! They knocked at the door, asked if they could
stay there, were refused, but kept coming and going until broad
daylight, when they got away! They left an old carpet-sack, and other
things, on the ground near the fence, to make it appear they were
tramps, but Mrs. Cooney thinks although they were well disguised, that
she recognized one of the fellows as a resident of Shenandoah.
“Faith, an’ I am beholden to ye once more, McAndrew! When can I ever
repay your kindness? I will try to do all that I can, whenever I hev the
chance!”
“Oh, that’s all right!” returned the young man.
Again the visit to Father O’Connor was unsuccessful, as that person had
not yet arrived from Philadelphia. Returning to Callaghan’s, McKenna
reported his want of success. McAndrew, Dowling, and the rest were
talking together, but no one offered him any violence. Bidding all “good
night,” he went to Pottsville once more. He did not feel that there was
any actual necessity for going to Shenandoah again that day. In fact, it
occurred to him that, thereafter, it might be as well to have somebody,
upon whose aid he could count, along with him whenever he made the
journey.
I had telegraphed word to Mr. Franklin to have the detective clear his
record, even at further risk, by persevering until he saw Father
O’Connor, but, as matter of precaution, Mr. Linden should never leave
him while there seemed the least danger that he would run into serious
trouble.
The operative, meantime, became convinced, through circumstances brought
to his knowledge, that the Mollies had penetrated his disguise—seen his
cards. Somebody had given them information about him. Who it was, he
could not tell. But that they were satisfied of his double part, he was
well aware. Nevertheless he said:
“I’ll go to Mahanoy Plane just once more! Then, if all is not made
straight, you’ll see me leave this country!”
“It’s according to orders, I see, and, as I am to be with you, I shall
feel better about it!” said Linden.
Linden prepared for the journey, and, the next day, which was Saturday,
the fifth of March, after writing to Mr. Franklin, saying he was to go
to Mahanoy Plane, to see Father O’Connor, and adding: “If I am killed,
Jack Kehoe is my murderer,” McParlan took the noon train for the place
designated. Linden was aware of the localities the operative would visit
and at no time permitted him to stray far from his presence. This time
Father O’Connor was found at his residence.
Callaghan was invited to go with him to interview the clergyman, but
refused, saying he had already been there too many times. Beside, he and
Father O’Connor had passed some sharp words regarding a sermon which the
priest had delivered about the Mollie Maguires, or Ancient Order of
Hibernians. So the accused Mollie was forced to go alone—excepting that
Linden kept him in view. He entered the house and was told the reverend
gentleman would see him in a moment. While sitting in a room, waiting,
McKenna heard footsteps in the hallway and then came the voice of a man
speaking. He recognized the tone as belonging to one of the Mollies of
the Mahanoy Plane Division. Listening intently, he thought a chair was
drawn along the wall until near the door. Evidently some one was
preparing to hear every word that passed between himself and the priest.
This was enough to put him on his guard and prompt the use of no
language which would compromise him in the eyes of the Mollie Maguires.
Soon Father O’Connor arrived, and McKenna civilly addressed him:
“I am James McKenna, Father O’Connor! I suppose you have heard many ill
things about me before this, but I am not quite sure that I am as bad as
reported. I know I am not what you have represented me to be, a
detective, spy, informer! In tellin’ me friends this, you hev hurt me
above remedy. I’m no detective! The order I belongs to is a good wan—but
its members are, some of them, charged wid crimes—an’ they’ll kill me if
they think I’m in league wid their enemies, which I surely am not! They
are now quietly engaged in seekin’ means of accomplishing me injury. You
can stop it by saying that it is not true; that ye don’t belave the tale
told on me! I beg you to consider! I stands up for the Ancient Order of
Hibernians, everywhere! They are the right sort! I hev belonged to ’em
for seventeen years, and never saw anything wrong in them. Bishop Wood,
an’ all the rest, are astray in condemning them, an’ if they’ll only
give us time we’ll prove that we are not murderers and incendiaries an’
all that’s wicked!”
“I have heard about you, young man,” calmly answered the priest, “and
the language used need not be repeated. I assure you, however, that I
have never used your _name_ in connection with that of a detective! I
confess I heard that you were a detective, and although I did not know
you, I thought you might be, on occasion, cognizant of crimes long
before their perpetration; crimes that I thought you should have
prevented; and in doing as you did you acted as a stool-pigeon—a common
phrase among men—and took part in bad acts in lieu of giving word to the
authorities and having the perpetrators arrested and punished. I
acknowledge I wrote a letter to John Kehoe, and gave it to a party to
deliver. It was not sent, but brought back to me. I have told these
unfortunate men that their time would surely come, that death would yet
be their fate, and now they see that I gave them good counsel. They
would not listen to my voice, would not leave their organization, and
they must abide by the consequences. I can do no more for them. You can
go to Father Ryan, of Mahanoy City, and Father O’Reilly, of Shenandoah,
as they know more about it than I do. I learned of the detective matter
only recently, and have been to Philadelphia to see how your relations
are with another party. I need not name the man, for I found out
nothing. You were seen around the vicinity—or in Tamaqua—about the time
Kelly and Doyle were arrested. You kept Kerrigan’s company, just before
Jones was shot!”
“But, indade, I had business in Tamaqua, Father O’Connor! I wor sparkin’
Kerrigan’s sister-in-law!”
This provoked a smile on the priest’s face.
“Well, if that was all, there was nothing wrong in it; you had a right
to pay attention to the young lady if you liked!”
“Of course I know that! An’ to get the good-will of the sister-in-law,
sure, didn’t I hev to spark Kerrigan jist a little?”
Here some other persons wanted to see the clergyman, and McKenna took
his leave, promising to visit the other priests and have the tangle
straightened out, notifying Father O’Connor of it, so that he might, if
he would, make due notice to the members of his congregation. The pastor
stated that, when he was satisfied, he would be very happy to make a
public correction.
But McKenna had no idea of going to see Fathers Ryan and O’Reilly. He
had had quite enough of that kind of work.
McKenna was careful to speak loud while complimenting the Mollie
Maguires, so that the eavesdropper might hear this part of the
conversation if nothing else. As he went out at one door, he knew that
Martin Dooley made his exit at another, and, had he given out anything
derogatory to the order, he would never have escaped with his life.
After visiting Callaghan’s, and telling the crowd assembled there that
he had seen Father O’Connor, and it was all right, he agreed to have an
interview with Father O’Reilly, at Shenandoah, the next day, and then
took his final leave. While on his way out of the village the agent
encountered Dooley, who quickly commenced to laugh. He was glad it was
not Tom Donahue and Dowling he had met.
“Phat are you afther laughin’ about?” asked McKenna.
“Oh, I heard ivery word of it!”
“Every word of what?”
“That passed while you was closeted wid Father O’Connor!”
“For shame! Wor you list’ning?”
“Sure, an’ I was!”
“Well, didn’t I tell him some things about the society that not every
_gorsoon_ would have known?”
“That you did! Didn’t you give the order a lift, tho’?”
“That wor me rale intention!”
“An’ you have been a member for seventeen years, eh? You told the whole
truth about the A. O. H.—or the Mollies—but I don’t believe you did
about the age of your membership!”
Dooley seemed highly pleased, and reported to all the men at Callaghan’s
that he never heard a man talk better sense to anybody than Jim McKenna
put before Father O’Connor, during their short interview. The crowd
changed their feelings toward the agent, and were, at the moment, more
inclined to doubt Kehoe than McKenna. Dowling was quite drunk, as usual,
but managed to put in:
“It’s a mystery to me, anyhow! I can’t tell what to make of that fellow
in the blue clothes! He’s a counterfeiter, a thief, a gentleman, a
singer of songs and dancer of jigs, an’, be gorra, now they say he’s a
detective! It’s a long way beyond me thoughts! I gives it up! I gives it
up!”
And Dowling called all hands to the bar, which was satisfactory to the
landlord, at least.
Notwithstanding the detective had carried himself manfully before his
foes, bearded Kehoe in his den, faced the priestly accuser, and defied
the select band of assassins, now, while he knew that Linden was
somewhere within sight of him—in truth he was in Mr. Davis’ office,
close at hand, all the while he had been with the priest, and even then
was tracing McKenna’s footsteps at a safe distance—as he made fast time
toward Frackville, and the sun began to sink in the west, a feeling of
dread came over him, a chilliness ran in his veins, which was nigh unto
fear, and he walked faster than he had in a long time. Fortunately he
overtook a Dutchman, driving to Frackville, and McKenna, not wishing to
be caught in the dark on the mountains, asked the driver if he would
give him a ride. The Dutchman consented, stopped his team, and the
detective mounted the seat by his side, saying:
“I’m in a very great hurry! I hev a dispatch that me sisther is just
dying, at Pottsville beyant, an’ I fear I may not get to the train in
sayson!”
[Illustration: “_Linden was still some distance behind, but making good
time to catch up with the Dutchman’s horses._”]
“I’ll drive a little faster!” said the obliging fellow, and he applied
his black-snake whip to the animals’ flanks and they went flying up the
steep road, while Linden was some distance behind, but making good time,
to catch up with the Dutchman’s horses. McKenna looked back, and after a
while, seeing his friend, told the Jehu that he thought there was no
need of such hot haste, as they would probably get to the depot in time.
But poor Linden had to walk all the way, and was glad enough when he saw
the end of the journey. Both operatives took the same train for
Pottsville, but were careful not to be seen communicating, and the next
morning McKenna went by train to Philadelphia, no more to return as
James McKenna. This was therefore, theoretically, if not in fact, the
end of that personage so long known to the coal region and to the
reader. No more would he appear as the wild Irishman of Shenandoah. When
he again visited the locality—if he went there at all—it would be in his
true character of James McParlan, the detective.
Let us now return to the trials of the Mollies already arrested. While
he did not testify in the Kelly and Doyle cases, in March, 1876, at
Mauch Chunk, McParlan was much in the locality and furnished very
valuable information, greatly assisting the prosecution in their legal
warfare upon the Mollie Maguires.
In April, 1876, I went to Philadelphia, and held another long,
interesting and profitable consultation with Mr. F. B. Gowen and
Superintendent Franklin. They had for some time been urging upon me the
necessity for placing McParlan on the witness stand. With his
assistance, I could easily see that many convictions might be made
which, without his aid, never could occur. Still there was in my mind
the verbal agreement I had entered into, nearly three years before, in
my office in Chicago, that he, the operative, should not be called upon
to go before a court and give testimony. I would not go behind that
statement, and was determined never to make the attempt. It was true
that McParlan’s usefulness as a detective in the coal region was gone,
through the discovery which had been made rendering his departure from
that part of Pennsylvania imperatively necessary.
Calling the detective to me, in my private office, we held an earnest
and prolonged interview. Without saying anything to bias his mind, I
plainly stated the situation, and asked him to consider whether it was
better for him to go upon the stand or not. He could do as he chose, and
I would remain firmly with him to the last. For some moments McParlan
sat, with his head bowed down, seemingly in deep thought, saying
nothing. He then raised his eyes, and replied:
“You remarked, just now, that Mr. Gowen would like to see me!”
“Yes, he so stated.”
“Well, I can decide what is best to be done, after talking with him.”
I then visited Mr. Gowen’s house, where he was confined from sickness.
He appointed a time when McParlan and I should meet him. We did meet
him, at my office, in Philadelphia, and we held further talk over the
matter. Mr. Gowen informed McParlan that all he desired was simply to
bring the guilty men to justice. In his own quiet, businesslike manner,
he placed the full circumstances of the case before him, offering,
however, no hope of future or present reward, but describing plainly the
duty he thought he owed to the public. When Mr. Gowen was through,
McParlan thought over the subject for at least five minutes, none of us
speaking, and Mr. Gowen and I almost breathlessly awaiting the result.
At last McParlan said:
“I will come out in my true character as a detective, speak the truth in
all the cases, wherever needed, and, so help me God, every assistance
that I can give shall be rendered! Nothing shall be held back. With
God’s aid, I may be the means of doing much good!”
Mr. Gowen then left, and arrangements were made to carry out the
decision.
I had consented, with this proviso, that, as soon as he should visit the
coal region, and from that time until the precautions were all ended, he
would place himself constantly, day and night, under the especial care
of two of my bravest and most courageous men, who should be properly
armed, and instructed to give him protection wherever he went. He did
not deem this precaution at all necessary. I did, and McParlan agreed to
it. Messrs. Gilchrist and Deacons, able and determined officers, have
since that date acted as his guardsmen. That this was needful, several
facts afterward transpiring abundantly prove. While two men would have
been of little use in a combined attack, or if an assassin might come
upon them suddenly in the night, I knew the Mollies would soon be so
demoralized that the first would not occur, and no man would be willing
to take the risk of killing another whom he knew was constantly under
the eye of armed and watchful guardians. The fact that he had to move
about the streets of Pottsville, Mauch Chunk, or Bloomsburg, protected
by armed men, was galling to the detective’s pride, but he finally began
to see the demand for such care of himself, and never tried to evade
those guarding him. It is more than probable that his life would long
since have been sacrificed, had I adopted a more reckless course, which
I never contemplated doing.
Making arrests now begun in earnest, Mr. Linden having been duly
authorized to attend to this department of the business under the
direction and advice of Mr. Franklin, the district attorneys, and
assisted by McParlan. Capture followed swiftly upon capture, commencing
on the fourth of February, 1876, when Alexander Campbell, Bodymaster at
Lansford, Carbon County, was apprehended, charged with the murder of
John P. Jones, Sept. 3d, of the same year.
On the fifth of the same month, Hugh McGehan, of Carbon County, was
arrested for the Yost murder, committed at Tamaqua, July 6, 1875. James
Boyle was taken on the sixth and the capture of James Roarty, Bodymaster
at Coledale, Schuylkill County, occurred on the seventh. On the eighth,
James Carroll, of Tamaqua, then acting as Bodymaster at Tamaqua, was
lodged in prison. There, on the ninth, he was joined by his coadjutor in
the murder of B. F. Yost, Thomas Duffy, of Reevesdale. The last named
was captured while at work, at Buckville.
The six murderers mentioned above were taken, one after the other, and
so sudden was the descent upon them that they did not have a moment’s
warning, and the greatest excitement resulted throughout the coal
region. Not only were the Mollies themselves greatly agitated, but the
people of the vicinity arose in a mass and threats of lynching the
prisoners were freely indulged in. Owing to the admirable arrangements
of Capt. Linden, ably seconded by the officers and men of the Coal and
Iron Police and local officials, everything passed off quietly, in a
little while, and all of the defendants were safely lodged in Pottsville
jail. Writs of _habeas corpus_ were promptly taken out, made returnable
on the thirteenth of February. On that day, Linden took James Kerrigan
away from the Carbon County jail, at Mauch Chunk, in a special car, and
landed him safely in Pottsville, ready for the hearing on the writ. The
crowd at the court-house was so overpowering that President Judge
Pershing declined to enter upon the case, and the numbers of citizens
present had to be forcibly diminished before the cause could go on.
Trouble was anticipated at this time from the Mollie Maguires, who were
on the spot in crowds, and, while Capt. Linden was taking Kerrigan to
the carriage in waiting, a member of the order, named Thomas Waldron,
cried out, alluding to Kerrigan, “Drown the scoundrel! Drown him!” A nod
to one of the officers in attendance was sufficient, and Mr. Waldron was
promptly arrested, taken before a magistrate, and put under bail. This
quick settlement of his case quieted the order, and no further trouble
occurred.
On the tenth of February followed the arrest of Thomas Munley, of
Gilberton, on the affidavit of Capt. Linden, for the murder of Thomas
Sanger, and Wm. Uren, at Raven Run, as related in these pages.
On the fourth of May, 1876, the trial of James Carroll, Thomas Duffy,
James Roarty, Hugh McGehan, and James Boyle, for the murder of B. F.
Yost, was commenced in Pottsville, before a full bench of Hon. C. L.
Pershing, D. B. Green, and T. H. Walker. The jury was composed of the
following gentlemen: Joel H. Betz, Thomas Bomboy, O. Miller, William
Becker, Lewis Maul, Levi Stein, Paul Artz, Amos Forsman, Daniel Yeager,
Benjamin Weller, Jules Kurten, and Jacob B. Hoffman. After hearing much
of the testimony, and getting well along in the cause, Levi Stein, one
of the jurors, and an estimable man, was taken very sick, and the court
adjourned until the twenty-third of the same month. Mr. Stein never
recovered sufficiently to reappear in the jury box, and after his death
the remainder of the panel were discharged. The cause therefore went
over. It was in this unfortunate trial that McParlan came upon the
stand, stood revealed to the world as the former James McKenna, and made
his astonishing revelations, which, for interest and novelty, have
startled the civilized world. James Kerrigan, also made his _début_ as a
witness for the Commonwealth, and, but for the sad incident occurring,
as related, the trial would have proven a triumph over the Mollies. Hon.
F. B. Gowen, President of the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad Company
and of the Philadelphia and Reading Coal and Iron Company, in this case
first came forward as counsel, ungloved himself for the struggle, and by
his boldness did much to reassure the depressed and suffering people of
the coal region. It was a sad providence and calamity that terminated
the trial so unhappily. The counsel engaged for the Commonwealth were
George R. Kaercher, Esq., District Attorney, Hon. F. B. Gowen, Hon. F.
W. Hughes, Gen. Charles Albright, and Guy E. Farquhar, Esq.; for the
defense were Hon. Lin Bartholomew, John W. Ryon, Esq., and Daniel
Kalbfus, Esq. It was an array of talent which attracted deserved
attention from the people and the press, many citizens daily crowding
the court room, and all the leading newspapers having representatives
present. Everything, however, had to be repeated, because of the decease
of Mr. Stein.
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