The prisoners, Daniel Coughlin, Martin Burke, John F. Beggs, Patrick

O’Sullivan, and John Kunze, were indicted for the murder of Dr.

Patrick Henry Cronin, on May 4, 1889. The case naturally created

intense excitement throughout the State, affecting as it did many

and complex interests of party, race, and creed. Committees were

formed and funds were raised for the prosecution and for the

defence, and the prisoners were convicted and acquitted on the

platform and in the Press, with that reckless disregard of common

decency which disgraces the partisan warfare of America. American

judicial proceedings are, however, framed to work in a society which

habitually indulges itself in debauches of partisan fury, even while

prisoners stand at trial for their lives, and accordingly the most

elaborate safeguards are employed to secure the impartiality of the

jury. The State and the prisoners exercise the right of challenge

both peremptorily and for cause, in a degree undreamt of in this

country. Each juror, before he is sworn to try the issues, is

subjected to the most merciless examination and cross-examination

by counsel for the State and for the prisoners, and challenges

“for cause” are allowed on grounds which in English eyes appear

ludicrously trivial. The prisoners in the Cronin case were, by law,

entitled to twenty peremptory challenges apiece, or, as they combined

their challenges, to one hundred peremptory challenges in all, and

the State was also entitled to one hundred peremptory challenges. The

work of impanelling the jury began on August 30, and ended on October

22. Seven full working weeks were spent in this preliminary labour.

No fewer than 1115 unfortunate citizens of Cook County were exposed

to the rigid scrutiny of counsel for the State and counsel for the

defence. Of these, 927 were “excused,” to use the American euphemism,

for cause, while 78 were peremptorily challenged by the State, and

97 were similarly challenged by the defence. Thus the State had 22

challenges unexhausted, and the defence only three when the tale was

completed. At last, on October 24, the State’s Attorney “got down to

trial” and made his opening speech. The case relied upon and proved

by the State depended on the following assertions and inferences.

Dr. Cronin was summoned from his home at half-past seven on the

evening of May 4, and never returned. On May 22 his naked body,

bearing marks of violence, was found in the catch-basin of a sewer.

The theory of the prosecution was that he was murdered in pursuance

of a conspiracy, and that the accused, together with other persons

not in custody, were members of that conspiracy. The jury by their

verdict have declared that Dr. Cronin was so murdered, and that

all the prisoners save Beggs did conspire to murder him. This

conspiracy arose from a bitter quarrel within the ranks of the United

Brotherhood, or Clan-na-Gael. The history of that organisation was

sketched by State’s Attorney Longenecker in his opening speech. It

was founded in 1869, to “free” Ireland by open warfare. Irishmen

joined it from “patriotism,” Irishmen joined it for the purposes of

American political warfare, and others “for the sake of the money

that was in it.” The organisation grew “until now it stretches from

ocean to ocean in our land.” It was organised by districts, each

with its District Member and District “Camps.” Each “Camp” had a

public name, by which alone it was known to the general public.

Thus, “Camp 20,” to which several of the prisoners belonged, was

called the “Columbia Club,” and other “Camps” were known as “Literary

Clubs,” and so on. Prior to 1881 the organisation was governed by an

Executive Body, which was composed of the District Members. In 1879

this Board consisted of fifteen members.

In 1881 a National Convention of the United Brotherhood was held in

Chicago. At that Convention the Executive Body was reduced to five

members, and Alexander Sullivan, Feeley, and Boland were appointed

thereon. These three men constituted a majority of the new Board,

and, in the State’s Attorney’s phrase, “took charge” of it. “They

then adopted,” he says, “what is called the dynamite policy. They

called it ‘active work.’ They adopted a policy to blow up property

and individuals, and that policy was adopted immediately after

they got possession of the Executive Board of the organisation.”

Moreover, this new Executive Body inserted a provision in the oath

of the organisation binding all members to obey the Executive Body

without question. “If they directed a man to go and kill another

man in England it had to be done, and they had no right to question

the order.” In 1884 this controlling Board adopted the symbol of

the Triangle, and issued orders under that designation. The whole

object of this Junta was to steal the funds of the organisation,

and the State’s Attorney roundly accuses them of endeavouring to

effect this object by acts of well-nigh incredible infamy. They

pretended to their organisation that great sums were being expended

upon “active work.” To lend colour to this fiction they procured a

certain amount of such work to be done. They sent emissaries to this

country. But they failed to provide them with the funds indispensable

for their personal safety. The men were referred to an agent of the

organisation in England, and when they had reached this side of the

Atlantic precautions were taken that they should not too speedily

return. When the dynamite emissary landed in the United Kingdom, “I

say to you,” says the State’s Attorney, “that somebody there made

known who the man was, and what he was detailed to do, and he was

immediately arrested and thrown into prison. To-day the prison doors

in England are locked against twenty or more men who were sent there

by that Board.”

The next trick of the Triangle, to hide their embezzlement of the

funds, was to circulate a rumour that English detectives were

watching the Order, and to get the biennial Convention postponed upon

that plea. A meeting was held of the friends of the Triangle, “and

they destroyed every vestige of work they had done. They destroyed

their books, and then sent out a circular showing that the Order

was indebted to them $13,000, notwithstanding when they took hold

of it they had a fund of $250,000 in the treasury.” Naturally these

proceedings led to great dissension in the Order, and finally to a

split in its ranks. To the quarrel that thus arose, Dr. Cronin, on

the theory advanced by the prosecution, and accepted by the jury,

owed his death. Cronin from the first protested against the action

of the Triangle. In 1885 he was tried for treason to the Order.

Alexander Sullivan prosecuted, and the convict Daniel Coughlin sat

on the Trial Committee. Cronin was convicted and expelled. Thereupon

Cronin joined a new organisation formed by the seceding members of

the Order, and no further steps were taken until June 1888. In that

month a joint convention of the two factions was held in Chicago

with a view to reunion. At that convention Cronin charged the old

Triangle, which had then ceased to exist, with misappropriation of

the funds of the Order, and with misconduct towards their emissaries

to Europe. It was resolved that the charges should be investigated,

and a Trial Committee of six, three from each faction, was appointed

to try Sullivan, Feeley, and Boland. Of that Trial Committee, Cronin

was a member. A memorandum in Cronin’s handwriting, containing the

joint findings of Cronin himself, and one P. M‘Cahey, as members of

the Trial Committee, and also minutes of the evidence adduced at

such trial, were found amongst Cronin’s papers, and proved at the

coroner’s inquest. These documents were, of course, inadmissible

at the actual trial, according to a well-known technical rule of

evidence, but, as they undoubtedly guided the State’s Attorney and

his associates in framing the case against the prisoners, and as,

moreover, they possess a very special and personal interest for

Englishmen, we do not feel constrained to ignore their contents here.

The Trial Committee, it appears, met at Genesee House, Buffalo,

on August 20, 1888. Alexander Sullivan objected that “one of the

committee was a malignant enemy of his,” and he named Cronin as that

enemy. Feeley and Boland joined in Sullivan’s objection, but Cronin

denied that he had any personal enmity to Sullivan and the objection

was overruled. Boland then charged the notorious John Devoy, who was

a friend of Cronin’s, and attended the Trial Committee, presumably in

his interest, with being a British spy. Cronin defended Devoy, the

committee settled down to work, and the trial proceeded. The minutes

of the evidence taken by this committee, and found in Cronin’s own

handwriting, form one of the most startling documents ever produced

in any Court. Four principal witnesses were examined in support

of the charges made against the Triangle of neglecting to supply

the emissaries actually engaged in dynamiting with funds, and of

neglecting the families of those emissaries who had perished by

explosions, or had been sent to penal servitude in this country. The

first witness was himself one of the London dynamiters. The last was

the widow of Mackey Lomasney, who was blown up while attempting to

destroy London Bridge. The names of the male witnesses are not given.

The first witness swore that after the Boston Convention of 1884,

one Donovan, “who acted as agent for the body,” and “was then in the

employ of General Kerwin,” asked him if “he could furnish enough men

to accomplish a certain amount of active work.” The witness procured

one recruit. Donovan and John J. Moroney paid their steerage passage,

and gave them $100 each “to carry on work.” For further funds they

were referred to “the agent on the other side.” The two dynamiters

crossed to this country, but the funds were not forthcoming. The

agent, it is satisfactory to learn, “was sure he had been betrayed by

some one,” and it is yet more gratifying to know that he “is now in

prison.” The witness then gives the following account of his exploits

in this country, and of the base ingratitude of his employers:—

“At the agent’s request, work was delayed six weeks. I at last told

him I would do the work. There were four of us.... I finally induced

him to give orders to do the work. This was on Thursday. On Saturday

we did it. After the work was done I met him the same evening. He

remained in capital city seven days afterward. I was so reduced for

funds that I prevailed upon him to give me four pounds of the sixteen

he had left. On landing in this country had three-and-one-half

pounds.... I at once complained to Donovan and Moroney, and through

them to the executive, or General Kerwin, of the treatment I had

received, and the culpable neglect of the F. C. About the last of

February 1885, Donovan furnished me with $10 with which to reach my

home.

“_Q._ How many operations did you perform?—_A._ Three. We always

bade each other good-bye after each meeting, thinking it might be our

last meeting on earth. I have learned that, in order to get back,

the other man who went over with me had to sell his clothes to get

passage-money. He came with a sprained ankle. In July or August 1885,

he received $7 from Moroney.”

Subsequently the witness found that the mother of Cunningham, the

dynamiter, was in want. He complained to Moroney and General Kerwin,

whereupon Kerwin told him he ought to be expelled. The munificent

sum of $100 was finally sent by the “F. C.” (Executive Body) to the

mother of their dupe Cunningham, now undergoing in this country the

just but awful punishment of penal servitude for life. The witness

further ascertained that Mrs. Mackey Lomasney, the widow of Captain

Mackey Lomasney, who “was killed in London, and was assured, witness

was told, that his family would never want,” was in great distress.

The relatives of Dr. Gallagher, another dynamite convict under a

life-long sentence, were also in want. A hundred dollars was raised

for Mrs. Gallagher. Then comes this terrible statement, a statement

which should warn the miserable tools of the Clan-na-Gael what kind

of succour they may look for from their chiefs when their “heroism”

lands them in the dock. “I requested,” says this same witness, “that

the men on trial on the other side should be defended. General Kerwin

said that friendless men were better off in such cases.” To the men

who have risked their lives at its bidding, the Order, with its ample

revenues, grudges the few pounds needed for their legal defence, and

coldly abandons them “friendless” to their fate.

The next witness confirms the above statements as to the conduct of

the organisation towards Mrs. Cunningham. In July 1885, he succeeded

John Moroney as D. M. (District Member), and in October of that year

he “went out as an organiser of the National League in the West.” “I

saw General Kerwin and told him that he should send money to Mrs.

Cunningham, that the lady was hurt on the subject of being neglected

by us. He said he would send it.”

The cross-examination of this witness was directed to show that he

entertained animus against Kerwin and Boland for endeavouring to

defeat his candidature for the presidency of the National League,

which candidature, he alleges, had been officially adopted by the

Clan-na-Gael. “The slate,” he says, “was Baldwin, Minton, and Carroll

for F. C. (Executive Body), and myself as President of the League.”

Boland asked him why he would not take the secretaryship.

The third witness, “a member since the beginning of the old

organisation,” knew Mackey Lomasney, and remembers his departure

for Europe in August 1884, with his brother Jim, and a third

conspirator. The witness describes his efforts to obtain relief

from the organisation for Mackey Lomasney’s widow. In 1885 he went

to Newhaven and saw Dr. Wallace (who was then “D.”), Condon, and

Boland. Boland “denied all responsibility,” and alleged that Mrs.

Mackey Lomasney had been supplied with plenty of money. The witness

called on Carroll. “He professed utter ignorance of the whole affair.

I said, ‘By God, you must see her.’ Carroll offered the witness

$100, which he refused. I said, ‘You know how to send this, as you

have the others; if you respect the memory of the dead, and the

widow and the orphan made so by your act, do your duty by all.’” The

witness further states that Mrs. Mackey Lomasney continued to be in a

poverty-stricken state, without coal or clothing, until August 1886.

The last witness was Mrs. Susan Mackey Lomasney herself. Upon

Alexander Sullivan’s request, made presumably to show his reliance on

the bare word of a dynamiter’s wife, she was not sworn. Mrs. Mackey

Lomasney stated that her husband went away in August 1884, and that

since that date she had received $1000 from the organisation. She

called on Alexander Sullivan in 1885, but did not ask for help. In

August 1886, she again visited Sullivan, explained to him the state

of her affairs, and asked for help. “He asked me for a schedule of

my liabilities—$200. He would attend to the matter. He gave me no

money, nor offered me any.” Sullivan told the witness not to mention

his name to any one. She then called on “James Q.,” who “talked to

her about Father Dorney,” but gave her no help. The witness was

so poor at this time that she borrowed a dress to visit Sullivan.

Several weeks after the witness again called on Sullivan and applied

for a loan of $100, which she obtained. That was all she ever got

from Sullivan. In cross-examination Mrs. Mackey Lomasney admitted

that her husband wrote to her from Europe, saying he had received

money from Mr. Sullivan. The witness did not know the amount.

“Here,” say the minutes, “Mr. S. admitted that (Mackey) Lomasney was

sent by the organisation.”

The Trial Committee was divided in opinion as to the guilt or

innocence of the accused. Four members were for an acquittal. Two,

Cronin and M‘Cahey, were for a conviction on the principal charges,

and, in particular, on the charges of “scandalous and shameful

neglect” of “the family of one who lost his life in the service of

this Order,” and on that of issuing a fraudulent financial report and

squandering the funds.

Dr. Cronin’s documents illustrate many interesting points. Amongst

other things they prove that he, his friends Devoy and M‘Cahey and

their faction, are to the full as wicked scoundrels as Sullivan,

Feeley, Boland, and the party of the Triangle. The minority report

does not condemn the Triangle for dynamiting, but for dishonest

dynamiting. It does not reprobate the despatch of miscreants like

Mackey Lomasney to work slaughter and destruction in the heart

of a great city, but the subsequent neglect of the Order to keep

faith with their emissary, by providing for his widow. It acquits

the Triangle of wilfully omitting to supply the actual authors

of the dynamite explosion with funds to fly from the law, but it

severely censures their “agent” for the omission. Both wings of the

Clan-na-Gael were engaged in the same devilish plots, and while every

one must rejoice that the assassins even of a dynamiter should meet

their lawful doom, Cronin merits no more sympathy as an individual

than “Captain Mackey” himself. He was brutally murdered, while

himself engaged in plotting the wholesale murder of others.

On the theory of the State’s Attorney, now endorsed by the verdict

of the American jury, it was Cronin’s persistent efforts to have the

evidence taken by the Trial Committee published with the report, that

sealed his doom. That committee, as has been seen, sat in August

1888. The report did not appear while Cronin lived. But on the day

of his murder the Executive Body of the Clan-na-Gael met, and on

the next day, or the next day but one, the report was published to

the Order. The evidence was not then issued with the report, but a

protest from Alexander Sullivan was annexed thereto, in which he

charged Cronin as a perjurer, and a traitor to the Irish cause. All

the prisoners except Kunze were members of the Clan-na-Gael. All

those members belonged to the same “Camp” of the Order, known in

the ranks of the Order as “Camp 20,” and in public as the “Columbia

Club.” The prisoner, John F. Beggs, was “Senior Guardian” of the

“Camp,” and an intimate friend of Alexander Sullivan’s. On February

8, 1889, the “Camp” met, with Beggs in the chair, and from that

meeting the prosecution dates the conspiracy to murder Cronin. A

member got up and said that they should investigate the affairs of

the Triangle, these men who had robbed them of their funds. The

prisoner Coughlin and others demanded the speaker’s authority for

this statement. He replied that he had heard part of the report of

the Trial Committee appointed to try the Triangle read in another

“Camp.” That other “Camp” was Dr. Cronin’s. The State alleged that

Beggs made a violent speech and declared that he would not have these

attacks made upon the Triangle, and that it had to be stopped if it

took blood. Coughlin at once moved that a secret committee of three

be appointed to investigate. The motion was carried, and the prisoner

Beggs, as Senior Guardian, was directed to nominate the committee.

All the accused except O’Sullivan and Kunze attended this meeting of

“Camp 20.” Two days later Beggs wrote to his superior officer, a man

named Spellman, and informed him that “it was charged that the S.

G. of the Columbia Club at a recent meeting read to the assembled

members the proceedings of the Trial Committee.” On February 17,

Spellman disclaimed any jurisdiction “to inflict the penalty” in

the case. On February 18, Beggs replied that the matter had to be

investigated or there would be trouble. The State’s Attorney argued

that this secret committee of three was in fact appointed to try,

and did try, the murdered man, and that Spellman’s disclaimer of

jurisdiction to inflict “the penalty” proves that Cronin had been

convicted and already stood for sentence at the bar of the Order.

On February 19, a man giving the name of Simonds, who is not in

custody, took rooms at 117 Clark Street, Chicago, immediately

opposite to Dr. Cronin’s office. On the same day he bought some

furniture and a carpet. He asked for goods of the cheapest quality,

and stated that he required them only for temporary use. He also

bought from the same dealers the largest packing trunk they had, a

valise, and a trunk strap. He told the shopman that the first strap

supplied to him was not large enough, and a larger one was procured.

All these articles were put into the rooms at 117 Clark Street.

On March 20, a man, proved to be the convict Martin Burke, hired

Carlson cottage, under the name of “Frank Williams,” for one month

from Mr. Carlson, who himself lives next door. Burke then went to

the prisoner P. O’Sullivan, whose premises immediately adjoin the

Carlson cottage, and told O’Sullivan that he had taken it. Burke and

another man not in custody next removed all the furniture, the trunk,

the valise, and the carpet from 117 Clark Street into the Carlson

cottage. This removal took place on the evening of March 20, the day

Burke took the cottage.

O’Sullivan is an ice man by trade. On March 29, nine days after

the taking of the cottage, O’Sullivan tried to find one Justice

Mahoney, to come and make a contract between him and Dr. Cronin.

O’Sullivan did not find the justice on March 29, but some time in

April they went together to Cronin’s office, and a contract was made

between O’Sullivan and Cronin, whereby Cronin agreed to attend to

O’Sullivan’s workmen. O’Sullivan then gave Cronin some cards and

said, “I may be out of town and my card be presented.” O’Sullivan’s

business was not dangerous. No accident had ever occurred amongst his

men. Numbers of doctors lived between O’Sullivan’s place of business

and Dr. Cronin’s office, which is nearly an hour’s drive from

O’Sullivan’s yard. “What,” the State asked, “was the object of this

contract, made after the discussion in ‘Camp 20,’ and after Beggs had

been directed to appoint the secret committee?”

On April 20, Martin Burke, under the _alias_ of “Frank Williams,”

returned to the Carlson cottage and paid a second month’s rent in

advance. He had never occupied the cottage. He said his sister was in

hospital and could not come to housekeeping. The Carlsons grew uneasy

about their tenants. They inquired of their neighbour O’Sullivan

about these men, who had taken their house but never moved into it.

O’Sullivan said, “You will get your rent; it is all right,” and told

them he knew one of their tenants. Shortly before May 4 the convict

Coughlin was heard to declare in a “saloon” or public bar that a

certain north-side man, a leading Catholic, or a leading Irishman,

would soon bite the ground, or to use words of the like effect.

On the evening of May 3 there was a meeting of “Camp 20.” A member

asked if the secret committee appointed in February to inquire into

the alleged publication of the report of the Triangle Trial Committee

in Cronin’s “Camp” had itself reported. The State alleged that Beggs,

the Senior Guardian, answered, “That committee is to report to me.

The ‘Camp’ has nothing to do with that.”

Between eleven and one o’clock on May 4, the convict Coughlin went to

Dinan’s livery stable and ordered a horse and buggy to be ready about

seven that evening “for a friend.” Later he telephoned to the convict

O’Sullivan to go out. About 7.15 in the evening Coughlin’s friend

came and asked for the buggy. The ostler harnessed a white horse.

The stranger objected to the colour, but the ostler said it was the

only horse he could have. The stranger then drove to Dr. Cronin’s.

He reached Cronin’s home about 7.20, gave him one of O’Sullivan’s

cards, saying, “O’Sullivan is out of town, and here is his card”—the

very words used by O’Sullivan himself when he made his contract with

Cronin—and told Cronin that one of O’Sullivan’s men had his leg

crushed, and that the doctor was wanted immediately. The doctor took

his instruments and some cotton with him and drove hastily off in the

buggy. He was never seen alive again.

The State allege that the convict Burke was at the Carlson cottage on

the night of May 3, together with another man, after the meeting of

“Camp 20.” On the night of May 4 Burke was also there, and he bade

good-night to his landlord and neighbour, old Mr. Carlson, at a late

hour that evening. A casual passer-by saw a man whose description

answers to that of Cronin get out of a buggy and hastily enter

Carlson cottage, and she afterwards heard blows and cries. Between

eight and nine that night, two men, whose descriptions answer to

those of Coughlin and Kunze, were also seen to drive up to Carlson

cottage, and Coughlin was seen to enter it.

Twenty-five years in the Secret Service: The recollections of a spy · 第 16 / 19 段