Читать книгу Complete Life of William McKinley and Story of His Assassination - Everett Marshall - Страница 11

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Leon F. Czolgosz, the assassin of President McKinley, was born of Polish parents, who resided in Cleveland at the time he committed the terrible crime. Twenty-six years of age, born in Detroit, of medium height, smooth-shaver, brown hair, and dressed like a workingman completes all the description necessary.

After the shooting he made a confession, in which he told how he had followed the President from the time of the latter’s arrival at the exposition until the fatal shots were fired. All of this time, like a prowling wild beast, he sought the life of President McKinley.

He received some education in the common schools of Detroit, but left school and went to work when a boy as a blacksmith’s apprentice. Later he went to work at Cleveland and then went to Chicago.

While in Chicago he became interested in the Socialist movement. When he went back to Cleveland his interest in the movement increased. He read all the Socialist literature he could lay his hands on, and finally began to take part in Socialistic matters. In time he became well known among Anarchists in Chicago, Cleveland and Detroit, not only as a Socialist, but as an Anarchist of the most bitter type.

After returning to Cleveland from Chicago he went to work in the wire mills in Newburg, a suburb of Cleveland.

About two weeks previous to his fearful crime, Czolgosz attended a meeting of Socialists in Cleveland, at which a lecture was given by Emma Goldman, the woman whose anarchistic doctrines have made her notorious all over the country. The extermination of rulers of people is part of her creed.

It was this lecture and others heard in Chicago prior to that time that instilled in the heart of the Pole the poison of assassination. He went back to his lodging from the lecture with fever in his brain. His mind was filled with the preaching of this woman. The doctrine that rulers had no right to live was burned into his soul. He awoke in the morning with the lecture of Emma Goldman running through his mind.

A few days afterward he read in a Chicago paper that President McKinley was to visit the Pan-American Exposition and to remain in Buffalo for several days. The lecture of Emma Goldman and the projected visit of the President to Buffalo were linked in his every thought.

Eight days before the tragedy he packed a small telescope valise with a few of his belongings and took an early train for Buffalo. At that time there was no well-formed purpose in his mind. The plot to murder had not crystallized, but the thought that in Buffalo he would be able, perhaps, to reach the President’s side was what led him to start for the East, and with it was the dim conviction that his mission was one of blood.

Upon arriving in Buffalo he went at once to an hotel kept by one John Nowak. He went there because he knew Nowak was a Pole. He told Nowak he had come to see the exposition, and that his stay would be indefinite. He inquired of Nowak about the visit of the President, when he would arrive, how long he would be in the city, what he was to do there, and whether the people would be able to see much of him. Nowak told him what the plans were.

The next day Czolgosz went to the exposition. He went there on the following day, and the day following. The idea that he might kill the President when he came was in his mind, but the purpose was but half formed. At that time it might have been possible to have diverted his mind from the thought of such a mission. But he was alone in the city. He had no friends there. There was nothing to check the fever burning deeper and deeper into his mind.

On Wednesday morning, the day of the President’s arrival, Czolgosz had his mind made up. His mission to Buffalo was clear to him then. He determined to shoot the President. The first thing he did was to get a revolver.

He arrived on the grounds shortly before noon. He knew the President would not arrive before the early evening. He had read the papers carefully and knew every detail of the plans. But he was anxious to be on the scene where the assassination was to be committed. He remained at the exposition all day.

In the afternoon he took up his position close to the railroad gate. He knew the President would enter the grounds that way. After a time other people began to assemble there until there was a crowd that hedged him in on all sides. He came to the conclusion that the place for him to be was outside of the railroad station, close to the tracks.

He feared that inside the grounds the crush might be so great that he would be brushed aside and prevented from reaching the President. He tried to pass through the gate to the station, but he was too late. Guards had just closed the exit. The President was to arrive soon, and the police did not desire to have the station crowded, so they pushed Czolgosz back into the crowd.

“LET ME SEE THE TREES; THEY ARE SO BEAUTIFUL,” SAID PRESIDENT McKINLEY.

MRS. McKINLEY BIDDING HER HUSBAND THE LAST FAREWELL.

He was in the forefront of the throng when the President came through the gate. The exhibition of tenderness and affection for his wife which the President unconsciously gave her as he led her through the entrance thrilled every one in the throng but Czolgosz. He alone felt no pity for the pale, sweet-faced, suffering woman. He pressed forward with the rest of the crowd as the President approached the carriage. He was gripping the weapon in his pocket in his right hand.

Several times, as the figure of the Chief Executive came into full view as the guards drew aside, the impulse to rush forward and shoot took possession of him, but each time he changed his mind. He feared that he would be discovered before he could reach the President. He was afraid that the glint of the revolver, if he drew it from his pocket, might attract the attention of a detective or a soldier or a citizen before he could put his plan into execution, and in that event the assassin knew that all hope of killing the President would be over. He saw the President enter the carriage and drive away. He followed, but the crowd closed in front of him and held him back.

The next morning he was at the exposition early. He took up his position close to the stand beneath the Pylon of Liberty, where the President was to speak. When the time came for the President to arrive the guards pushed him back. He saw the President arrive and mount to the stand. He stood there in the front row of the hurrahing people, mute, with a single thought in his mind.

He heard Mr. McKinley speak. He reckoned up the chances in his mind of stealing closer and shooting down the President where he stood. Once he fully determined to make the attempt, but just then a stalwart guard appeared in front of him. He concluded to wait a better opportunity. After the address he was among those who attempted to crowd up to the President’s carriage. One of the detectives caught him by the shoulder and shoved him back into the crowd.

He saw the President drive away and followed. He tried to pass through the entrance after the President, but the guards halted him and sent him away. He entered the stadium by another entrance, but was not permitted to get within reach of the President.

The next morning he was at the exposition again and was in the crowd at the railroad gate when the President arrived at that point after crossing the grounds from the Lincoln Park entrance. But with the rest of the crowd he was driven back when the President’s carriage arrived. He saw the President pass through the gate to the special train which was to take him to the falls.

Czolgosz waited for the President’s return. In the afternoon he went to the Temple of Music and was one of the first of the throng to enter. He crowded well forward, as close to the stage as possible. He was there when the President entered through the side door. He was one of the first to hurry forward when the President took his position and prepared to shake hands with the people.

Czolgosz had his revolver gripped in his right hand, and about both the hand and the revolver was wrapped a handkerchief. He held the weapon to his breast, so that any one who noticed him might suppose that the hand was injured.

He reached the President finally. He did not look into the President’s face. He extended his left hand, pressed the revolver against the President’s breast with his right hand and fired twice.

That was all there was to his story.

“Did you mean to kill the President?” asked the District Attorney.

“I did,” was the reply.

“What was the motive that induced you to commit this crime?” he was asked.

“I am a disciple of Emma Goldman,” he replied.

The following is Czolgosz’s signed confession to the police. It agrees with the above, but we give it in his exact words:

“I was born in Detroit nearly twenty-nine years ago. My parents were Russian Poles. They came here forty-two years ago. I got my education in the public schools of Detroit and then went to Cleveland, where I got work. In Cleveland I read books on socialism and met a great many Socialists. I was pretty well known as a Socialist in the West. After being in Cleveland for several years I went to Chicago, where I remained seven months, after which I went to Newburg, on the outskirt of Cleveland, and went to work in the Newburg wire mills.

“During the last five years I have had as friends Anarchists in Chicago, Cleveland, Detroit, and other Western cities, and I suppose I became more or less bitter. Yes, I know I was bitter. I never had much luck at anything and this preyed upon me. It made me morose and envious, but what started the craze to kill was a lecture I heard some little time ago by Emma Goldman. She was in Cleveland and I and other Anarchists went to hear her. She set me on fire.

“Her doctrine that all rulers should be exterminated was what set me to thinking so that my head nearly split with the pain. Miss Goldman’s words went right through me and when I left the lecture I had made up my mind that I would have to do something heroic for the cause I loved.

“Eight days ago, while I was in Chicago, I read in a Chicago newspaper of President McKinley’s visit to the Pan-American Exposition at Buffalo. That day I bought a ticket for Buffalo and got there with the determination to do something, but I did not know just what. I thought of shooting the President, but I had not formed a plan.

“I went to live at 1078 Broadway, which is a saloon and hotel. John Nowak, a Pole, a sort of politician who has led his people here for years, owns it. I told Nowak that I came to see the fair. He knew nothing about what was setting me crazy. I went to the Exposition grounds a couple of times a day.

“Not until Tuesday morning did the resolution to shoot the President take a hold of me. It was in my heart; there was no escape for me. I could not have conquered it had my life been at stake. There were thousands of people in town on Tuesday. I heard it was President’s Day. All these people seemed bowing to the great ruler. I made up my mind to kill that ruler. I bought a 32–caliber revolver and loaded it.

“On Tuesday night I went to the Fair grounds and was near the railroad gate when the Presidential party arrived. I tried to get near him, but the police forced me back. They forced everybody back so that the great ruler could pass. I was close to the President when he got into the grounds, but was afraid to attempt the assassination because there were so many men in the bodyguard that watched him. I was not afraid of them or that I should get hurt, but afraid I might be seized and that my chance would be gone forever.

“Well, he went away that time and I went home. On Wednesday I went to the grounds and stood right near the President, right under him near the stand from which he spoke.

“I thought half a dozen times of shooting while he was speaking, but I could not get close enough. I was afraid I might miss, and then the great crowd was always jostling, and I was afraid lest my aim fail. I waited on Wednesday, and the President got into his carriage again, and a lot of men were about him and formed a cordon that I could not get through. I was tossed about by the crowd, and my spirits were getting pretty low. I was almost hopeless that night as I went home.

“Yesterday morning I went again to the Exposition grounds. Emma Goldman’s speech was still burning me up. I waited near the central entrance for the President, who was to board his special train from that gate, but the police allowed nobody but the President’s party to pass where the train waited, so I stayed at the grounds all day waiting.

“During yesterday I first thought of hiding my pistol under my handkerchief. I was afraid if I had to draw it from my pocket I would be seen and seized by the guards. I got to the Temple of Music the first one and waited at the spot where the reception was to be held.

“Then he came, the President—the ruler—and I got in line and trembled and trembled until I got right up to him, and then I shot him twice, through my white handkerchief. I would have fired more, but I was stunned by a blow in the face—a frightful blow that knocked me down—and then everybody jumped on me. I thought I would be killed and was surprised the way they treated me.”

Czolgosz ended his story in utter exhaustion. When he had about concluded he was asked: “Did you really mean to kill the President?”

“I did,” was the reply.

“What was your motive, what good could it do you?” he was asked.

“I am an Anarchist. I am a disciple of Emma Goldman. Her words set me on fire,” he replied, with not the slightest tremor.

“I deny that I have had an accomplice at any time,” Czolgosz told District Attorney Penny. “I don’t regret my act, because I was doing what I could for the great cause. I am not connected with the Paterson group or with those Anarchists who sent Bresci to Italy to kill Humbert. I had no confidants; no one to help me. I was alone absolutely.”

Czolgosz, the assassin, was the son of Paul Czolgosz, who lived at 306 Fleet street, Cleveland, Ohio, at the time of the assassination, having moved there from Warrensburg, Ohio, in search of work. Other members of the family were John, who lived at home with his father and stepmother; Mike, a soldier serving in the Philippines; Vladiolan, who was on his father’s farm, located on the Chagrin Falls Suburban line; and Jacob, of Marcelline avenue. There were two uncles living on Hosmer street.

The family was Polish and evidently poor.

Czolgosz’s father talked of his son’s crime. He said his son should be hanged, and that there was no excuse for the crime. At first he appeared not to realize the enormity of the crime, but when aroused he denounced his son, saying he must have been mad.

The stepmother could not speak English, but gave out the following interview through the medium of an interpreter. She said:

“Leon left home sixty days before this terrible affair. We heard from him a few weeks ago. He was then in Indiana and wrote to us that he was going away, stating that in all probability we would not see him again.”

The family had not heard from him since. The stepmother denies Leon was a disciple of Emma Goldman or in any way interested in her doctrines. She said he was not interested in such matters and scarcely intelligent enough to understand them. They had always considered the boy partly demented. Up to three years ago he had worked at the Cleveland rolling mill, but had to quit on account of poor health. Since that time he has been idle. While living on the farm near Warrensville his father had not asked Leon to work, having always considered him too weak for manual labor.

Regarding the shooting of the President, Mrs. Czolgosz said:

“I can’t believe Leon is the one. He was such a timid boy, so afraid of everything. Why, he was the biggest coward you ever saw in your life.”

Leon Czolgosz was born in Alpena County, Michigan, and spent his early life there. Although the family was well known but little was known of Czolgosz, he being only thirteen years of age when the family moved away.

The family is Polish and was strict in religious observances, but the record does not show that Leon Czolgosz was baptized either at Alpena or at Posen, where the family lived a short time before moving to Alpena.

Czolgosz, the father, was born in the Province of Posen, Krais Schubin, County of Bromberg, Village of Haido, near Barin, and came directly to Alpena County from Germany about thirty years ago. He worked on the docks and was regarded as a peaceful, inoffensive, ignorant foreigner. The father of Leon Czolgosz raised ten children, of which the assassin was one of the youngest.

After leaving Alpena the family was only heard of a few times, and that indirectly, but they were known to be in Cleveland, where several of the children were living with them. Valentine Misgalski, a prominent and intelligent Pole, and former friend of the Czolgosz family, said that he never saw any evidences of viciousness in the family. He remembers Leon and said there was nothing unusual about him as a boy. He attended the parochial school, was devoted to his church, and remembers him as in every way an ordinary boy.

Andrew Czolgosz, uncle of the assassin, lived in Metz Township, thirty miles from Alpena, the most of which distance has to be made overland. He was unable to talk English and conversation had to be carried on through his sons. This family lived in a thickly populated Polish settlement, where the people were ignorant and not always to be trusted, and inquiries had to be made with great care. These people quarrelled and fought among themselves, but at a signal that any one of their members was in danger from any one from the outside, as they call it, a man’s life was in great danger.

It was in this settlement that Paul Czolgosz lived for a short time after coming to this country before settling in Alpena.

During the conversation with Andrew Czolgosz a significant remark was made by one of the sons. Inquiry was made as to where Paul Czolgosz could be found, and also his son Leon, without giving a reason for the inquiry. The old man said his brother was in Cleveland, that he had heard from him occasionally, but he did not know what had become of Leon. He had kept track of some of the boys, but he denied any knowledge of where Leon was.

When the interviewer started to return he asked the boys, who talk English well, if they had heard President McKinley was shot. One of them spoke up quickly, “Did Leon shoot him?” He was told there was a report current to that effect, to which the boy made no reply. An effort was made to resume the conversation, but they would answer no questions, nor would they ask any more questions of their father.

Leon Czolgosz has an aunt living in Alpena, but she would answer no questions. Czolgosz also had a brother living in the Polish settlement.

On the rolls of the Pension Office was the name of Jacob F. Czolgosz. A pension of $30 a month was paid to Jacob because of a wound in the right hand and forearm. The wound was received through the explosion of a shell at Sandy Hook in 1899. Czolgosz enlisted from Cleveland, Ohio (giving his address at 199 Hosmer street), first in Battery M, Sixth Artillery, on September 15, 1898. He was afterward discharged on January 22, 1899, and then re-enlisted in the ordnance branch, in Captain Babbitt’s company, and was serving there when wounded.

He was born at Alpena, Michigan, and was twenty-two years and ten months old when he first enlisted.

Leon Czolgosz was a member of several Anarchist clubs in Cleveland, one of which was named “Sila,” which means “force.” The club met at the corner of Tod street and Third avenue, over a saloon which, it is said, Czolgosz once owned. Three years before the assassination the club disbanded and he left it, but joined another.

“Czolgosz made no secret of the fact that he was an Anarchist,” said Anton Zwolinski, a Cleveland Pole. “He was always talking about it and trying to force Anarchists’ principles on every one whom he talked with. He was a great coward, however, and I am surprised he had the nerve to do as he did. It would not surprise me to learn that he is merely the tool of some other persons. When the Sila Club broke up Czolgosz joined another one.”

Several years previous to his crime, Czolgosz was employed in a Newburg mill, where he was known as Fred Nieman. He was a member of Forest City Castle Lodge No. 22 of the Golden Eagles. His former associates said he was a queer man, but was known to have a most violent temper. It is said that the assassin was a strong infidel and a red-hot Socialist. He was last seen by his Cleveland friends around Newburg the previous spring, when he was living on a farm with his father near Warrensville, Ohio.

John Ginder, an employe of the Newburg wire mill, where Czolgosz formerly worked, and who was also a member of the Golden Eagle Lodge, received a letter from Czolgosz in July, dated West Seneca, N. Y.

The letter, which was taken by the police, was written in red ink and contained a strange reference to the fare to Buffalo. It read as follows:

“West Seneca, N. Y., July 30, 1901.—John Ginder—Dear Sir and Brother: Inclosed you will find $1 to pay my lodge dues. I paid $1 to Brother George Coonish to pay the assessment sent out on account of the death of Brother David Jones.

“Brother Ginder, please send my book to me at my cost, and also send password if you can do so.

“I left Cleveland Thursday, July 11. I am working here and will stay for some time. The fare from here to Buffalo is $5.15.

“Hoping this finds you well, as it leaves me, I remain

Fred C. Nieman.”

Czolgosz was placed on trial before Justice Truman C. White of the State Supreme Bench, at Buffalo, on Monday, September 23. On the following day the jury found him guilty, and on Thursday, September 26, he was sentenced to death by electrocution in the week beginning October 28. He refused to consult with the attorneys appointed to defend him, and practically made no defense.