THE CONFESSIONS AND
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF
HARRY ORCHARD
LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF
CALIFORNIA
SAN DIEGO
THE CONFESSIONS AND
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF
HARRY ORCHARD
4
HARRY ORCHARD
From a picture taken at the Boise Penitentiary in May, 1907.
THE CONFESSIONS
AND AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF
HARRY ORCHARD
ILLUSTRATED WITH PHOTOGEAPHS
NEW YORK
THE McCLURE COMPANY
MCMVII
Copyright, 1907, by The McClure Company
Published, December, 1907
Copyright, 1907, by The S. S. McClure Company
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PACK
I. MY EARLY LIFE IN ONTARIO .... 3
II. UNION RULE IN THE CCEUR D'ALENES . . 16
III. WE BLOW UP THE BUNKER HILL MILL . . 30
IV. I Go TO LIVE IN CRIPPLE CREEK ... 48
V. THE BIG STRIKE OF 1903 55
VI. THE MILITIA COME TO CRIPPLE CREEK . 63
VII. THE EXPLOSION IN THE VINDICATOR MINE . 68
VIII. MY FIRST VISIT TO HEADQUARTERS . . 88
IX. How WE TRIED TO ASSASSINATE GOVERNOR
PEABODY . . . . . . . 110
X. THE SHOOTING OF LYTE GREGORY BEFORE
THE CONVENTION . . ... . 122
XI. How WE BLEW UP THE INDEPENDENCE DEPOT
DURING THE CONVENTION . . . .129
XII. How I WENT TO SAN FRANCISCO AND BLEW
UP FRED BRADLEY 149
XIII. OUR FIRST BOMB FOR GOVERNOR PEABODY,
AND OTHER BOMBS FOR STREET WORK . 167
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
XIV. OUR FURTHER PLANS FOR GOVERNOR PEABODY
AND How I SET BOMBS FOR JUDGES GOD-
DARD AND GABBERT 181
XV. How I STARTED AFTER GOVERNOR STEUNEN-
BERG 196
XVL THE ASSASSINATION OF GOVERNOR STEUNEN-
BERG 206
XVII. MY EXPERIENCE IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY 224
XVIII. MY REASON FOR WRITING THIS BOOK . 251
vi
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
HARRY ORCHARD IN 1907 .... Frontispiece
EXECUTIVE BOARD OF THE WESTERN FEDERATION FA PAG
OF MINERS IN 1905 92
JAMES H. PEABODY 118
STEVE ADAMS 150
THE Two STEUNENBERG BOMBS 208
FRANK STETJNENBERG 218
HARRY ORCHARD IN 1906 226
JAMES MCPARLAND . 230
A PERSONAL NOTE OF INTRODUCTION
BY EDWIN S. HINKS,
Dean of St. Michael's Cathedral, Boise, Idaho
IN the month of June, 1906, I first met the au-
thor of this autobiography. About six months
prior he had made his full confession of crime,
which was again given on the witness-stand. He
wrote the account of his life, by his own volition,
during the last half of the year of 1906, telling me
many times that his object was to present a warn-
ing to all who might read it against taking the first
steps in a path of reckless living that so rapidly
ends in ruin.
As I comprehend the transformation of Harry
Orchard from reckless criminality to a penitent will-
ing to tell the truth, I feel that the world should
understand that his change of front was not in the
order of religious conversion, then moral percep-
tion, leading to confession. No! it seems to me the
order was first physical, second moral, and finally
religious.
He was wretched behind stone walls, lonely as cut
ix
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
off from freedom and old associations; hence he
fairly craved the sympathy which he got in the un-
burdening of his mind to McParland. He told me
that at first he only told a little of the truth, and
that several days passed before he divulged in full.
This confession, to my mind, evinces the first real,
moral change in the man. He has told me that;
though he had never in his life doubted the existence
of a God, and positively believed in a future state,
still he thought himself to be beyond forgiveness.
He sat from week to week brooding on his lost
condition, convinced that a murderer could not be
forgiven ; and he had read the Bible which had been
sent to him from the East, searching for light when
I first met him.
He had attended the Sunday afternoon services
at the penitentiary a few times, when he expressed
a desire for me to visit him.
Almost immediately he came to the point on which
he desired my expression of opinion, based on the
words of Scripture: Was he, as a murderer, shut
out from hope of God's forgiveness?
I explained to him that neither in the Old Testa-
ment nor in the New Testament Scriptures was there
a single word to preclude a penitent from an hon-
est approach to God, whose forgiveness and par-
don are full and free. I have only sorrow, not con-
x
A PERSONAL NOTE OF INTRODUCTION
tempt, for those who make distinctions in the Ten
Commandments.
I know that " all unrighteousness is sin " with
God, and am sure that many persons need to re-
adjust their notions who play fast and loose with
commandments seven and eight, with the delusive
idea that when God gave the ten laws he made mur-
der worse than adultery and dishonesty. I believe
in the love of a forgiving God, and as the Scrip-
ture defines God in this one word, " Love," I firmly
believe in that radical change as possible for Or-
chard as for the thief on the Cross of Calvary.
I would hardly go to Balzac for theology or doc-
trine, but I quote him in the following words : " One
thought borne inward, one prayer uplifted, one
echo of the Word within us, and our souls are for-
ever changed."
I believe in conversion, no matter how it comes,
nor to whom. I know it comes, sometimes quickly,
at other times slowly, and that a man may be a devil
to-day, and next week a man clothed, and in his
right mind.
To me the New Testament is the world's greatest
classic, and the Central Figure stands there present-
ing to us the man dominated by the devil of his own
lower self, a companion with hogs, sunken to the
lowest level.
xi
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
Then does not Jesus Christ draw the vivid picture
of the man " coming to himself," and would the
scene be anything at all if it did not portray the
open arms of love ready to forgive? Some say that
Orchard should never have confessed, that he should
have concealed any connection of others with his
crime, or crimes. Presuming that he did " come to
himself," with a terrific sense of responsibility to
his Maker, and with an oath on his lips to tell the
" whole truth," what could he do, and what would
you do? We must look at this with right focus.
What a wonderful tribute to the genuineness of
Christianity is discerned in the fact that when the
devils " Hogan " and " Orchard " had gone out of
Albert E. Horsley, that he believed implicitly in
the devotion of that noble, Christian wife whom he
had deserted nine years ago in Canada, with a seven-
months old baby in her arms.
He counted upon her fidelity and single devotion ;
he was banking upon her forgiveness, and he got it.
I have seen some of her letters, and have personally
met her, and I am sure that nothing but the super-
human power of Jesus Christ can account for the
calm, sustained spirit in this true, earnest wife,
who has suffered so keenly since the truth came to
her.
My conclusions as to the honesty and present
xii
A PERSONAL NOTE OF INTRODUCTION
truthfulness of Albert E. Horsley are based upon
my experience with human beings. I would not
know how to make a psychologic test, according
to the accepted scientific method, but I was gratified
that, when Professor Munsterberg, of Harvard, had
spent eight hours with Orchard, using every art
known to his deep profession, he pronounced him
to be normal, honest, frank, and straightforward.
In conclusion, I would say that any kind of pub-
licity is objectionable to me, and that my associa-
tion with this matter was not of my seeking, but
accidentally came in the line of my duty. I sincerely
trust that ere long the crimes of organized capi-
tal and organized labor may cease. My deepest in-
terest and sympathy lies with the honest wage-
earner, possibly in large sense from a fellow-feeling.
I know laborers where per diem pay exceeds my own.
I pray for the day when capital and labor shall
be fair with one another, and when the men who
pay out money shall be able to strike hands in fel-
lowship with the American Federation of Labor, and
when justice, fairness, and confidence shall take the
place of suspicion, doubt, and variance, with the
fraternal peace of heaven spreading its white wings
above the discord of God's family on earth.
It will never come until Christianity enters into
the souls of those who pay out money, as well as
xiii
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
into the souls of those who receive it, and the rug-
ged manhood of the Carpenter of Nazareth is ac-
cepted as the only standard worth considering.
EDWIN S. HINKS,
Dean of St. Michael's Cathedral,
Boise, Idaho.
THE CONFESSIONS AND
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF
HARRY ORCHARD
CHAPTER ONE
MY EARLY LIFE IN ONTARIO
I WAS born in Northumberland County, Ontario,
Canada, on the 18th of March, 1866. My real
name is Albert E. Horsley. My father was born
of English parents, and my mother of Irish. I was
brought up on a farm and received a common-school
education, but as my parents were poor, I had to
work as soon as I was old enough. I never advanced
farther than the third grade. I was one of a family
of eight children, consisting of six daughters and
two sons.
While we were poor and had to work for a living,
we always had plenty and dressed respectably. The
country was prosperous, and poverty was a thing
almost unheard of in the country at that time. Most
everybody worked there at that time, either for
themselves or for some one else, as the chief industry
there was farming; and the people were happy and
contented. The cost of living there then was much
less than it is to-day, and the people dressed and
lived much plainer then than now.
3
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
I was brought up to love and fear God and to
believe in a hereafter. My parents usually attended
church, and I was sent to Sunday-school and church,
and always had to observe the Sabbath, as there was
no manner of work practised there on the Sabbath
except chores about the farms that were necessary
to be done. Most of the people in that section of
the country belonged to some church and usually
attended it on Sunday.
I was next to the oldest of our family, and my
brother next to the youngest. We bought a small
farm when I was about ten years old, and I and my
sisters used to work and help father all we could,
as we used to raise garden truck for market. I used
to work on the farm summers and go to school win-
ters. As soon as I was old enough, I used to work
out for some close neighbor, sometimes by the day
and sometimes by the month, but my parents always
got the benefit of my work until I was past twenty
years old. When working away from home, I always
looked forward to Sunday, as I would have a chance
to go home and spend the Sabbath with my folks,
and they always looked for us on that day if we were
away from home. It makes me feel sad now when I
look back over those happy days and think espe-
cially of our dear loving mother and the anxiety she
had for our welfare, and the many hard, weary days
4
MY EARLY LIFE IN ONTARIO
she toiled and worked and underwent many priva-
tions for us, as a loving mother will do for her fam-
ily. We may not have had as nice clothes as some
of our neighbors, but they were always clean and
neatly mended. I always loved my mother very much
and thought I was good to her, but I can look back
now and see that I did not love her half as much as
she did me, and I might have been much better to
her. My dear mother is dead and gone many years
ago, and I am glad in my heart on her account that
she never lived to see me where I am to-day. My
father also died since I left home.
When I was about twenty-one years old, I
thought I ought to keep whatever money I earned
myself, as my parents were not able to give me any-
thing, and they did not object, so I worked away
from home all the time then and saved all I earned.
I had never been very far away from home and al-
ways worked on a farm. When I was twenty-two, I
think, I went to Saginaw, Mich., to work in the
lumber woods, as wages were much more there.
I had been keeping company with a young lady
at home and was engaged to be married. I went back
home and went to work for a farmer I had worked
for previous to going to Michigan. I had saved up
a little money by this time and got married the next
summer and went to keeping house a little time after.
5
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
My wife had worked in a cheese factory before
we were married and learned how to make cheese,
and as that was a great industry there and paid
pretty well, we thought we would try to get a fac-
tory and try cheese-making. We had no money to
buy a factory, but that winter we succeeded in rent-
ing one and moved there in the spring. The cheese-
making was carried on only during the summer
months, about six or seven months. We did not
have any money left to start with, but got credit
for what we needed and started out pretty well.
It was an old factory we rented and pretty well
run down, but we worked up a pretty good trade
and had some good friends that helped us. Com-
petition was keen, and a person had to under-
stand the business perfectly to make a success. My
wife understood it thoroughly, as she had learned
with a man that was very successful, but I knew
practically nothing about it. We did our own work
at first and got along well, but I soon discovered
there were many little tricks in the buying and
many ways for the buyer to job the maker.
I will explain briefly how the cheese was mostly
sold at that time. There would be a salesman for
every factory, and they would meet at the most cen-
tral city and had a regular cheese board of trade.
The board met every week during the early sum-
6
MY EARLY LIFE IN ONTARIO
mer, and after they had bought the cheese they
would send out their inspectors to the factories they
bought from. This would sometimes be several days
after they had been sold, and often the market fluc-
tuated a good deal, and if it happened to fall during
the time the inspector was inspecting the cheese,
he often culled them and would leave some of them
on your hands or would take them at a reduced
price. A maker did not like to have it get out that
his cheese had been culled. That would give him a
bad reputation and hurt his trade. I did not know
what to do at first when an inspector culled some of
our cheese, but he told me if I would weigh the
cheese and knock off a pound or so on a cheese and
make out two invoices, give our treasurer the short
one and send him the correct one and also a copy
of the short one, that he would accept them and no
one would be any the wiser. I at first thought there
was no harm in this, but I kept it to myself; I do
not think I even told my wife.
It takes lots of patience to make cheese, and espe-
cially if a person is not particular in taking the
milk. The patrons will not all take good care of
their milk, and it often comes to the factory tainted
with some bad smell, either from the cows eating
something or drinking bad water, and it often comes
from the milk being kept in some filthy place, and it
7
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
takes a lot of work and time to get this out of the
curd, often all day and part of the night; whereas,
if you had all good, pure milk you could get through
in eight or nine hours ; and I think after I had worked
at the cheese-making a while I was not as particu-
lar as my wife and often hurried it up to get done
early. While we were bound to make a first-class
cheese, we also had patrons bound to furnish first-
class milk, but we did not have them bound to send
any at all if they did not see fit, and as I have stated,
competition was very keen, and a good many of the
patrons were so situated that they could send their
milk to different factories, and if we would send it
home and tell them it was not good, they would often
do it, and we had to take a chance on lots of milk
that we ought not, especially in hot weather.
This throwing in a few pounds of cheese to the
buyer by making the short invoices would seem all
right, but if you did much of this you would run the
average away up, and it would take too much milk
to make a pound of cheese. As it takes about ten
pounds of milk to make a pound of cheese, we had
to keep pretty close to this to compete with other
factories, and thus the only way to do this was to
weigh the milk short. Still another difficulty con-
fronted us, as a great many patrons weighed their
milk at home, and if there was too much difference
8
MY EARLY LIFE IN ONTARIO
they would kick, and so the man that did not weigh
his milk at home suffered the most. We could usu-
ally find this out through the man that hauled the
milk. Our salesman and treasurer was on to all this,
as he had been in the business a good while, and he
said it was all right, and a maker hadn't ought to
make up any deficiency at the price he got for mak-
ing, and that they did not pay enough anyway.
This man was a good friend of mine and helped me
in many ways.
They used to most always contract the last two
or three months' make about the middle of the sea-
son, and often the market would fall, and this worked
a great hardship on the maker, as the buyers were
more particular. The first year we made cheese they
contracted the last three months' make, and the mar-
ket fell afterward, and they left several hundred
dollars' worth of cheese on our hands, and I sold
them to the man I rented the factory from. He
failed to pay all for them, and I had to borrow about
$400 to make up this, and I never got it from him,
as he had sold the factory and was not worth it.
I never did get it. We bought the factory after that
and stayed there four years.
I just want to relate these circumstances to show
the reader where I first fell and began to be dishon-
est. This was the first business I had done for myself,
9
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
and I was handling quite a lot of money, and it was
quite a change from working for somebody on a
farm sixteen or seventeen hours a day for $12 to
$15 a month. As long as I stayed home with my
wife and worked in the factory, I was all right,
but I thought I would keep a team of horses and
haul a milk route and haul away the cheese to
the depot, and hire a man or girl to work in the
factory to help my wife when I was not there. Then
I got to buying the whey at the factory and keep-
ing hogs there and feeding them, and all this took
me away from home more and more all the time, and
took me to the city a good deal, where I met a dif-
ferent class of people from those I had been used
to. I got to drinking some and spending a good deal
of money and staying away from home longer than
my business required, and I got mixed up in politics
some, and to make a long story short, I got to liv-
ing beyond my means and going in company that
I was not able to keep up my end with. The patrons
of our factory noticed this and talked a good deal
about it, and I kept living a little faster all the time.
My credit was good, and if I wanted money I could
go to the bank and borrow it.
My wife did not like my being away from home
so much, but she made no serious objection, but
looked after things the best she could when I was
10
MY EARLY LIFE IN ONTARIO
not there. For that part, she would do it better than
I, because she understood it better and was more
particular, and if I had attended to my business and
done my work and saved the money, we would have
been all right and could have saved some money. But
I could not stand prosperity, and kept good horses
and rigs, and lived a pretty fast life and did not deal
very honestly with the patrons.
Where I made the greatest mistake of my life was
in not telling my wife anything about my business
transactions, or very little, and I think this was the
cause of our first estrangement. I did not keep this
from my dear wife because I did not love her, but I
knew if she knew about how I was doing the business
she would not stand for it, and would wonder what
I was doing with the money. If she asked me about
something I did not want to tell her, I would either
tell her a falsehood or put her off some other way,
and I think the truth began to dawn upon her, and
she got so she did not ask me anything much about
business matters at all. I thought at the time I was
only saving her pain. I knew I was doing wrong,
but still kept doing more to cover up what I had
done, and so it was I kept on. I did not drink to
excess, nor did I seem to spend any great amount of
money. We made pretty good money through the
summer, but nothing in the winter, and as I kept
11
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
two or three horses all the time and had to buy
everything, the money got away, and after working
there four years and selling the factory for about
$400 more than we gave for it, I think I was some
in debt yet, although most folks thought we had
some money.
The way we came to sell the factory was like this :
The patrons began to get dissatisfied, and the treas-
urer and salesman advised me to sell, and found a
buyer for me, and no doubt it was a good thing
for me.
We moved from Cramahe the spring of 1892, and
went to make cheese for a company at Wooler near
my home. There was not as much money in this as
we had been making. We had more work to do in the
factory, as there was more milk to handle. I was at
home more here, and as we were among my own folks
I tried to lead a better life. We had an uncle who
was a preacher, and we were close to his church and
usually went to church. I had many good Christian
friends there that gave me good advice and tried
to get me to lead a better life, and I did try, but
to no purpose. I only tried to keep my wicked life
away from my Christian friends, and I would make
some excuse to get away from home as often as pos-
sible to the city or away hunting and fishing, any
place to get away from home and have a little time,
12
MY EARLY LIFE IN ONTARIO
as we called it. We stayed there three years, but the
people did not like the way I lived, as most all the
patrons were Christians, and my actions would get
out.
I had some good friends that managed to keep the
factory for me three years, but at the end of that
time I lost it, and a friend of mine put up the money
to buy a factory at Hilton, and I was to manage
it and pay him back. That winter I started to build
another factory a few miles from the one we bought,
and this kept me away from home a good deal that
winter. I stopped in a town called Brighton near
where I was building the new factory. This was the
beginning of my downfall. I boarded there with a
man and became infatuated with his wife and she
with me.
I finished this factory and moved there about the
opening of the cheese-making season. There was a
dear little girl born to us this spring, and thus my
dear wife was no longer able to look after the cheese-
making as she had formerly done, and I had to de-
pend altogether on hired help. I rented a nice house
in town shortly after our dear little girl was born,
and lived there. I was away from home most all the
time now, and when I was not at the factory I was
down-town. Our once happy home had lost all at-
tractions for me now, and my dear wife would often
13
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
complain and plead with me to stay at home, or at
least to come home early. To make a long story
short, I lived away beyond my means and was some
in debt, and my credit was not so good, and as I neg-
lected to look after the making of the cheese and
depended all on hired help, they did not turn out
any too good, and my chief prop was not able to
look after this as she had formerly done.
But I managed all right until we had to settle
up in the fall of 1896, and this woman and I had
planned to run away together, and I had to have
money to do this. I was all right at Hilton ; but at
Brighton I had overdrawn my account several hun-
dred dollars and was still in debt, and to cover up
some other misrepresentations on the books, I
burned the factory I had built and got the insur-
ance. I had taken from $500 to $600 worth of
cheese from the storehouse at Brighton and sold
it and kept the money. The factory was insured
in my name and the cheese in the name of the
company. In the fire everything was destroyed,
and the account books of the company were de-
stroyed, with the record of my debt in them. I paid
up my debts with the insurance money, and had
about $400 left, and I left there a month or so
afterward, and this woman followed me a short
time later and met me in Detroit, Mich., and we
14
MY EARLY LIFE IN ONTARIO
went to Nelson, British Columbia. We stayed there
and at Pilot Bay, about twenty miles away from
there, for three months or so, and I found out that
she had written home and her folks knew where she
was, and I bought her a ticket, and she went home,
and I left there and went to Spokane, Wash.
I did not hear from her after that, only in an in-
direct way. I wrote to a friend of mine about six
months afterward. He told me she was living with
her husband again and everything was all fixed up.
He also told me my wife had written to him and
wanted to know if he knew where I was. He said she
said some pretty hard things and said he thought
it would not be best for me to come back there. I
had no notion of going back, and did not let him
know where I was.
I was a very miserable man and began to see the
great mistake I had made, but did not know how to
repair it. I thought my wife would never forgive
me, and I made up my mind to begin life over again
and forget the past, but alas, that was not so easy
to do, but I thought that was all there was left for
me to do, and I started in to do it.
15
CHAPTER TWO
WHEN I had been in Spokane a few weeks
I had only $50 left, and I saw that I
would have to go to work. One day I
noticed a card in the window of an employment
agency. It was for a man to drive a milk wagon in
the Coeur d'Alene mining country for a firm of the
name of Markwell Brothers. I wrote them first and
then went over there the next week and got the
place. This was in April, 1897.
The Markwell Brothers had a milk ranch about
two miles west of Wallace the principal town there
a place of about two thousand people. Above this
the valley that all the towns were located in split,
and one branch of the Coeur d'Alene River went up to
Mullan on the right, and one branch on the left, that
they called Canon Creek, went up to Gem and Burke.
There were big lead and silver mines at all these
places but Wallace, which was a kind of market-
place for the district ; and down below it about ten
16
UNION RULE IN THE CCEUR D'ALENES
miles there was another big mining-camp called
Wardner. Gem, Burke, and Mullan each had from
seven to nine hundred people living in them, and
there were probably fifteen hundred in Wardner.
My work was to deliver milk at Burke, the town up
at the end of Canon Creek.
The country seemed to me at first a kind of
gloomy place to live in, especially Canon Creek and
Burke. In the first place the canon was very narrow,
and the mountains on both sides were very high and
steep. They went up at an angle of maybe forty
per cent, and they were about a thousand feet high,
so that the days in there were very short. In the
summer-time the sun would go down at about four
o'clock, and in the winter there wasn't more than
five hours of sunlight. Of course you would see the
sun on the sides of the mountains long before it
came up and after it went down; but I mean real
sunlight. There was very little wind there, it was
so deep and narrow; and in the winter-time, when it
snowed, you would notice the snow came straight
down, and not on a slant as it naturally does in other
places.
The first impression you got of Burke was that
it never stopped. It was going day and night and
Sunday. The mines worked all the time, and it was
the same with the saloons and such places. They
17
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
used to say that the only way you could tell it was
Sunday in Burke was that you had a chicken dinner
then.
The canon was only about one hundred and fifty
feet wide at the bottom, so it was hard work to
squeeze in the town. There was only one street, and
the two railroad companies' tracks ran up through
the middle of that to the Tiger-Poorman mill. The
stores sat on the south side, and had to be built out
over the creek, which they had to run through a
flume. On the north side they had to cut away the
hills to set the buildings in. There were maybe a
dozen stores, barber shops, etc., but more saloons
than anything else. There were six of these, and
they had all kinds of gambling lay-outs in the back
rooms such as roulette, faro, and black-jack and
stud poker. Beyond the stores there came the mill,
and then the sporting-houses. There were about ten
of these, with a dance hall in the center, and then
came the residence section, without any break. The
school-house was only about a hundred feet away
from the red-light district, so that the children
could hear the women singing and cursing down
there. There wasn't any church in the town, nor
any library or theater.
As I had been brought up and lived all my life
in a farming country this place struck me at first
18
UNION RULE IN THE CCEUR D'ALENES
as pretty peculiar. But of course when you get to
living in a place you get used to it.
Almost the first thing that Fred Markwell asked
me when I applied for the job with him was if I had
ever had any trouble with labor-unions. I told him
no, and I didn't know anything about unions at that
time. Then he warned me whatever I might see or
hear about their going not to criticize them. He
said they had driven his father out of business be-
cause he talked against them.
I soon found out that nobody could live in the
district, and especially Canon Creek, and do any-
thing or say anything against the unions. There
were two unions there. The men who worked above
ground in the mines belonged to the Knights of
Labor, and all the miners belonged to the Western
Federation of Miners. This last union they said
really started from this section, and this was the
one that ran the district. They had all the mining
towns but Wardner under their control, and if any
man opposed them they " ran him down the canon."
The way they did this would seem peculiar to
a stranger who was not acquainted with the country.
There was a miners' union in every town, and each
union had a gang of men who ran the non-union
men out of the district. Every miner who would not
join the union was warned to get out, and if he
19
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
didn't, he was " run down the canon " ; that is, this
gang of men, with masks and Winchesters, would
go up to his room some night and take him down
on the railroad track and march him out of the
canon. When they got him out, they warned him
if he came back again they would kill him. They
generally marched them out in front of them with
guns. Sometimes it was claimed they put a halter
on their necks and led them out. Several men who
wouldn't leave were killed.
The unions were so strong that they weren't sat-
isfied with only driving out the " scabs," but they did
the same thing with bosses or superintendents they
did not like. For instance, there was the case of Mr.
Whitney, who was foreman of the Frisco mill. They
sent a letter to him and told him to leave the camp
or he would suffer the consequences; but he did
not leave. Awhile after this a gang of masked men
with Winchesters went to Mr. Whitney's room in
Gem one night a little before midnight and started
to drive him down the canon.
I talked with a woman who saw them taking him
out. They came marching down the street at Gem
under the bright electric lights, and when people
began sticking their heads out of the windows, she
said these men with guns told them to go back in
again or they would shoot them. They took Whit-
20
UNION RULE IN THE CCEUR D'ALENES
ney down the railroad, and as he was a young man
and rather spirited, he tried to get away from them
down a little way below Gem. There were some box-
cars down there, and he thought if he could run
back of these in the dark he could escape. But they
shot him in the hip and left him there, and somebody
else got him and took him down to the hospital at
Wallace, and he died there a few days afterward when
they were operating on him. Mr. Whitney's rela-
tives were wealthy people, and they and the State
offered $17,000 reward for the men who shot him;
but nothing ever came of it, and nobody was ever
arrested, though a great many people must have
known who did it. Nobody in Canon Creek ever
dared to testify about a thing like this. They knew
if they did they would be killed themselves.
It might seem a strange thing about that coun-
try that nobody was ever punished for assaults or
murder like this. But after you were acquainted
there it was easy to see why this was. The fact was
that all the peace officers the sheriff and constables
and deputies of the peace were elected by the
unions and were in with them. The miners made up
their minds whom they were going to nominate and
vote for, and when they did this, they voted almost
solid for their men. The peace officers, of course,
always sided with the unions. And whenever a non-
21
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
union man got into the camp and got beaten up
and they took him before the justices of the peace,
they would fine him or send him to jail. George A.
Pettibone was justice of the peace at Gem back in
1892, and used to tell how he did this.
In fact, it was difficult to convict anybody who
had friends in the canon of anything, even murder.
It was strange how little account they took of mur-
der in that country. I think for one thing the peo-
ple got used to seeing men killed in the mines. They
would get blown up in blasting, so that they had
to be gathered up in a sack or basket, or sometimes
they would get badly hurt. The men who were killed
would be taken down to Wallace and buried, and
the men who were hurt would be put onto a push-
car on the railroad and slid down to the Wallace
hospital. When they saw them being carried out,
the miners would say, " It was too bad," and then
everything would go on as if nothing had hap-
pened. All this seemed to make human life cheap,
and, of course, almost everybody had a six-shooter,
although they didn't always carry them, and there
was more or less shooting. I remember there were
two murders besides Whitney that I knew of while
I was there. One man was acquitted, and the other
one was given a year in jail.
I worked steadily on my milk route and saved
UNION RULE IN THE CGEUR D'ALENES
some money during 1897, and that fall I bought a
sixteenth interest in the Hercules mine near Burke
the mine that has made Ed Boyce, the former
president of the Western Federation of Miners, and
his wife so wealthy. They are said to be worth nearly
$1,000,000 now, and my share, if I had kept it,
would be worth over $500,000. It was only a pros-
pect then, and I paid $500 for my share, a part
down and the rest with a note, which I was to pay
off in instalments.
I became tired of my milk route, and I gave it up
on Christmas, 1897. Then I went to Burke and
bought a wood and coal business there. I had
to borrow $150 to do this. The business was a
good one, and I would have made a big living
out of it, if I had attended to it, but I soon
got into bad habits. There didn't seem to be much
else to do for amusement. A single man board-
ing in that country would have a small room, gen-
erally without a stove, which was very cold in the
winter, and very close and hot in the summer. So
everybody went into the saloons, where it was com-
fortable. I have often thought that these million-
aires who were giving libraries and such things
might do a good thing if they would give a little
to the mining-camps just to give the men some place
to go to. It was the same with me as with hundreds
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
of others. I got started going into saloons, and
finally I got to gambling.
I lost so much money at this that it kept me con-
tinually broke, and in the spring of 1898 I had to
sell my interest in the Hercules mine in order to
pay my debts. Dan Cordonia bought it of me for
about $700.
In the summer of 1898 I had to take in a partner.
This was a Scotchman named James McAlpin. We
were in partnership until about March, 1899. I
stopped gambling and tried to straighten up. But
I used up so much money paying off my old debts
that when we made a settlement I found I had over-
drawn my account several hundred dollars, and
finally I offered to sell my share of the business to
McAlpin for $100 in cash. He accepted this offer,
and in this way I went out of business for myself.
The last of March, 1899, I got a job through
Lewis Strow, a shift boss I knew well, as a
" mucker " that is, a shoveler in the Tiger-Poor-
man mine at Burke. I had to join the miners' union
right away, and then for the first time I became
acquainted with the workings of this union.
When I first came to the Creur d'Alenes I thought
as everybody outside seems to think about the Fed-
eration of Miners that the whole union was respon-
sible for the outrages that were committed there.
UNION RULE IN THE CCEUR D'ALENES
But that is a mistake, as a great part of the men
knew no more about it than I did, and I did not
know anything then. This is the case everywhere,
as I have found since. The miners get the credit
for all the leaders do. I can count the men who were
really responsible for the troubles at Burke on the
fingers of my hands, and the membership of that
union must have been over four hundred.
It was common talk almost from the first in the
Coeur d'Alenes that there was an " inner circle "
which ran the district. There were unions at Gem,
Burke, Mullan, and Wardner. All these sent dele-
gates to a central union that is, a board that was
supposed to govern the whole district. But the
" inner circle " was supposed to be a few men that
were really back of the central union, and planned
all the rough work, as they did later in the Federa-
tion. George Pettibone was one of these when he was
there in 1892, and later Ed Boyce and L. J. Simp-
kins and Marion W. Moor, who later were in the
" inner circle " of the Federation. I have no doubt
they got this idea for the Federation from the Coeur
d'Alenes, for the Federation started just after the
first fight there, and a good many of the men in
the Federation " inner circle " came from there.
Ed Boyce, who was president of the Federation
for a long while in its early years, had more to do
25
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
with getting it started than any other man. He be-
gan the " Boyce policy " soon after he was elected ;
that is, he advised that every union man should arm
himself with a rifle, because they all might have to
go out and fight the capitalists before long; and
that nobody in the union should join the militia.
The leaders of the different unions took this up,
and I have heard it advised in unions time and time
again by the officers that every union man should
buy a good rifle and plenty of ammunition, for the
time was coming when they would need it. And no-
body would join the militia. It was considered a
" scab " organization run by the mine owners.
When the leaders would give this radical talk,
there would always be a number who would get up
and applaud very loud. A great many of these radi-
cal fellows were what we called " ten-day men "
that is, the men who only worked part time and lay
around the saloons the rest. A good many of these
men were regular saloon "bums." The conservative
men, who worked hard and had homes, did not like
this policy. I have often heard them talk against it
privately. But these men did not attend the meetings
the way the radical ones did, and generally they
could not express their thoughts very well in public ;
and if they started to talk against such an idea,
they would hardly get on their feet before the radi-
26
UNION RULE IN THE CCEUR D'ALENES
cal element would begin to holler " Sit down," or
" Put him out," and they would get rattled and stop
talking. Then nobody else would dare get up and
support them after seeing what happened.
But it is true that after a while even the conserva-
tive ones got to thinking that what the leaders said
was probably all right. In a town like Burke you
heard nothing else and had no chance to. You
couldn't even read anything else. I remember the
unions boycotted the Spokane Spokesman, and they
passed a rule so that you had to pay $5 fine to
the union if you were caught reading it. We were
all anxious to, too, especially when the Spanish
War was on, as this was the only daily newspaper
which came into the district the same day it was
printed. Now anybody gets to feeling the same way
when he hears nothing about the labor question ex-
cept from people wh.o talk about the millionaire mine
owners, and how pretty soon we will all get to be
like the cheap laborers of Europe, and peons, and
how we must defend the unions by arms if necessary,
because that is the only defense we have. It was
just one thing they talked, and that was war.
When you look back at it all, the trouble did start
in a kind of war that is, the fight of July 11, 1892,
when the miners blew up the Gem mill and drove
out the " scabs," and hired deputies, and the United
27
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
States troops came in and put the miners in the
" bull pen." They always celebrated the anniver-
sary of the day every year at the union cemetery
at Wallace, around the graves of the miners who
were killed then. This celebration really took the
place of the Fourth of July in that country. The
mines would all close, and the union men would go
down on special trains to Wallace and march out
to the cemetery. A stranger might expect some sol-
emn memorial service; but if they did they would
be much mistaken; for there was only talk of the
most radical kind by Boyce or speakers like him.
They would start by reminding the miners how
cruelly and cowardly their brothers had been mur-
dered. Then they would go on to say that they, too,
did not know how soon such a death might come to
them, if they did not prepare themselves to resist
it; and the only way to prepare was to get a good
gun and plenty of ammunition and be ready to fight,
and not wait until the other fellow shot you down
as they had your brother.
A great many of the men really did arm them-
selves with rifles when they could. I think there
was quite a number of guns left over from the fight
of 1892, and I know there were some shipped in.
George Pettibone has told me that he sent in rifles
from Denver in 1899 for the union men. He sent
28
UNION RULE IN THE CCEUR D'ALENES
a hundred of them in piano boxes, and ten thousand
rounds of ammunition, and addressed it to Jim
Young, who was sheriff at that time, and was in deep
with the unions. Then in 1898, the guns which be-
longed to the militia, that had disbanded at Mul-
lan, were stolen one night by masked men. The union
denied having done this, but a good many of the
guns showed up in the hands of union men when
we made our raid on the Bunker Hill and Sullivan
mill in Wardner, on April 29, 1899. All these guns
which the union men used were cached in places
known to the union leaders, so that when the time
came to use them they could be dug up and given
to the men.
29
CHAPTER THREE
WE BLOW UP THE BUNKER HILL MILL
ON the morning of April 29, 1899, I got up
at six o'clock, as usual, expecting to go
to work in the mine. As I was going to the
place where I took breakfast I was told that there
would be no work at any of the mines that day, and
that there was going to be a meeting at the Miners'
Union Hall at seven o'clock, and that every one must
attend. The first notice that anybody had of the
meeting was that morning. I think the central union
did not dare to give it out before, because if they
had, a great many of the conservative men would
have left town before they took part in what they
did that day.
After breakfast I went over to the hall, and it
was crowded, and in a few minutes Paul Corcoran,
the secretary of the Burke union, called the meet-
ing to order and began to explain the object of
holding the meeting at that unusual time. He told
the men that the central union had held a meeting
the night before at Gem, and had decided that the
30
WE BLOW UP THE BUNKER HILL MILL
unions should go to Wardner on that day and blow
up the Bunker Hill-Sullivan mine, and I think he
said hang the superintendent. I am not sure whether
he spoke openly of the latter, but I know that it
was generally discussed in the crowd. He told about
the trouble the miners' union had always had with
this mine, and said that the union men at Wardner
were breaking away from the union and going to
work there, and that scabs who had been driven
out of the camp from time to time were coming
back there. So the central union had decided the
only thing to do was to go down and blow up the
mill and end the strike once and for all. Then he
explained to us about the plans for taking posses-
sion of the Northern Pacific train and going down
to Wardner that morning.
While he was doing this, Mike Devy, the presi-
dent of the union, came in very angry and wanted
to know why he had not been notified of the meet-
ing, and what it was all about. When Corcoran had
explained it to him, he talked strong against it.
After he had done this a good many of the conserva-
tive men backed him up. Corcoran answered that
they had nothing to fear. He said the governor
would not do anything, because they owned him, as
the district had voted solid for him. The only thing
to be afraid of was the Federal Government, and that
31
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
the only thing that could make it do anything was
to interfere with the United States mail, and they
had plans so as not to interfere with that.
They took a vote after a while. They did this by
dividing the men on either side of the hall and count-
ing them, and it was very close. If it had been taken
in the usual way, by raising hands, I don't think
it would have been carried. A great many of the
conservative men were bitter against it, and said
it was a shame; yet, after they voted to go, there
was not anybody who wanted to stay at home.
Everybody went right out of the hall and began to
get ready. We were all supposed to get a piece of
white cotton and tie it around our arm, as this was
the mark of the Burke union, and each one was also
supposed to get some sort of a mask.
It is a peculiar thing to say, but when they were
once started nobody seemed to think anything seri-
ous was to be done. It was more like going on an
excursion. I do not even remember myself which way
I voted in the hall. When the Northern Pacific train
left Wallace that morning at eight o'clock, all the
telegraph wires had been cut, and when it left Burke,
five or six masked men with rifles boarded the en-
gine and directed the trainmen to put on extra cars.
Paul Corcoran was in charge of the men who did
this. The train was made up of box-cars and flat-
32
WE BLOW UP THE BUNKER HILL MILL
cars, one or two passenger-cars and a baggage-car.
The men got on board here, and we started down
the canon. I was in one of the passenger-coaches.
The train stopped at the Frisco Magazine, a mile
from Gem, and about forty or fifty boxes of dyna-
mite, each one of which weighed fifty pounds, were
loaded in one of the box-cars, and the train then
went down to Gem and stopped in front of the
miners' union hall. A number of Burke men got off
the train and went into the hall, where some new
rifles and ammunition were distributed to them.
Then they thought we would not have enough dy-
namite, and they brought the train up again to the
magazine, and put on forty or fifty more boxes.
Then we ran back to Gem and stopped at the union
hall again, and the men from Gem got on the train
and we ran down to Wallace. The union men from
Mullan had walked down to Wallace, which is about
ten miles, and they got on the train there. We lost
some time at Wallace, and then switched over on to
the Oregon Railroad & Navigation track and ran
on down to Wardner. They had no permission to
run this train over another railroad's track, but
the men in the engine compelled the engineer to do
this.
The train was crowded, men sitting on top of the
box-cars and crowding inside of them. While they
33
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
were going down from Gem a good many of the
men put on masks, and still more after we left Wal-
lace, but a great many of them did not mask at all.
At Wallace Jim Young, the sheriff, and Tom Heney,
former sheriff and then a deputy sheriff, got on the
train at Wallace, and though I did not hear them,
I was told they were advising the men on the way
down to Wardner how best to do the work and not
get into trouble over it. The sheriff got off in front
of the crowd at Wardner and demanded that the
mob should disperse and go home. Everybody knew
this was a bluff, and that he really would make no
attempt whatever to stop them, and they were
laughing and joking about it.
When we reached the Wardner depot, where the
Bunker Hill mill was, the men all jumped out of
the train and got ready to attack the mill. W. F.
Davis, who was a leader in the Gem union, had
charge of them. The mill was about a half mile from
the depot, and we got ready to attack it. Everybody
supposed it was full of armed guards or militia,
and Davis and the other leaders planned the attack
on it. In fact Paul Corcoran had told us in the
meeting that morning that there would be perhaps
as many as four hundred militia at the mine, but
he said we could easily whip them. The way they
attacked this mill was foolish. They sent twelve men
34
WE BLOW UP THE BUNKER HILL MILL
with rifles up on the side hill to the south of the
mill to fire at it and draw the fire of the guards,
if there were any. Then they formed the men in
line. All the unions were marked in a particular way,
a piece of cotton cloth on their arms or in their
buttonholes, etc. Davis and the other men started
lining them up ; the men with Winchesters went first.
They called out each union in turn for this ; the
Burke union first " All men from Burke with long
guns this way," and so on. There must have been
about four hundred men with long guns. Then they
lined up the men with revolvers after them. I sup-
pose there were twelve hundred men in the crowd.
Then they marched them right straight up to the
mill, two by two. If there had been anybody in the
mill they could have killed half a dozen at a time,
shooting down through the line.
I didn't get into the line myself, as I waited at
the depot restaurant to get something to eat. I had
only a small revolver anyway and wouldn't have been
any particular use. Pretty soon I heard them let
loose shooting, and some of the fellows that were
there with me said, " They've started at it," and we
all ran out. It seems that Davis and the other men
had sent the twelve men round above the mill with-
out telling all of the crowd, and these men had be-
gun shooting at the mill, and the crowd, thinking
35
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
they were scabs, began shooting at them. It was a
queer thing to see the crowd break up and run and
get behind cover when nobody had shot at them
at all. The twelve men stood about three hundred
yards away from the crowd, and about half the
crowd began shooting at them. I could see, from
where I stood at the depot, the stones and dirt fly-
ing up all around them; but although there were
probably two hundred people firing at them, they
only hit one man named Smith. They shot him
through the body, and he died right off. All he said
was " I'm hurt," and fell over on his face, and the
other fellows held up their hands, and the leaders
told the crowd who they were, and they stopped
firing.
The crowd caught a young Scotchman named
John Cheyne, who was a watchman at the mill, and
another man, and they told them that there was no-
body in the mill. So they got ready and began to
take the powder up and put it in under the mill to
blow it up. About eighty or ninety of us who were
at the depot, each took one of the fifty-pound boxes
of the dynamite and carried it on our shoulders
down to the mill. I remember even then I didn't un-
derstand who those fellows on the hill were, and I
said to Gus Peterson, who was carrying a box of
dynamite beside me, " What do they let those scabs
36
WE BLOW UP THE BUNKER HILL MILL
stay there for? They will be shooting at us and blow-
ing up this dynamite before we know it." Then we
left the dynamite down there and I stayed around
near the mill.
While we were doing this the crowd that had cap-
tured the two men shot Cheyne. I didn't see this, but
as I heard it, somebody told them to hike and get
out of the country, and they started to run away,
and then somebody else began to holler, " Scab,
scab ! " and a lot of the fellows somewhere else hol-
lered, " Where, where, where? " and began shooting
at them. One of these men shot Cheyne in the hip,
and grazed the lip of Rogers, the other man. Rogers
ran and got away, and a woman came out and helped
Cheyne and kept the men from killing him, but he
died a day or two later in the hospital.
All this time the men were putting the powder
into the mill, with Davis in charge. There was about
forty-five hundred pounds of this, and they planned
it all out, where would be the best place to put it.
There was a charge on top, underneath the ore bin,
where the ore comes into the mill, then there was
another charge down under the tables in the middle,
and then at the bottom, in the boiler room, there was
the charge like what they call a lifter in a mine.
Then when they got these all set they fired them
with fuses so that the top would go first and the
37
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
middle next, and the bottom one last, so this would
finish the job from the ground up.
When they got the powder in the mill, they wanted
volunteers to set off the fuses, and, though I was only
a new hand in the mines, I was near by at the time,
and I said I would set off one of them. So I went
down in the boiler-room with another man, and after
a while Davis came and put his head down through
a trap-door, and called out to us to light our fuses,
and we lighted them, and ran out of the building.
We tried to go up a stairway first, but the door was
locked, so we had to hurry and get out of a window,
and run across a switch track, where some freight-
cars were standing. Then the powder exploded and
the building was blown all to pieces.
They also set fire to a big company boarding-
house and the house of the superintendent and some
others about the mill. I looked into the superin-
tendent's house just before they set it going, and it
was furnished up fine. They had thrown kerosene all
over the inside and had set it off.
The men began to shout and shoot off their rifles
after the mill blew up. A little while later we got on
the train and started back to Wallace. I sat on the
outside of a box-car. The men were all feeling pretty
happy and still kept shooting their rifles. There was
a big flume up the hill that carried the water to the
38
WE BLOW UP THE BUNKER HILL MILL
Bunker Hill concentrator, and they would shoot
into this so as to see the water squirt out where the
balls broke through into the wooden flume.
By and by there was the whistle of a locomotive
down below, and the leaders stopped our train and
made everybody stop firing. They said there might
be troops on that train coming in from Spokane,
and anyway they would very likely need the car-
tridges if there was going to be any fight. This was
about the only thing I heard that day about any-
body coming in to trouble us. As I said, it was more
like going on an excursion than anything else, and
nobody seemed to be afraid of the consequences. We
stopped at Wallace on the way back, but I don't
remember much about that except that some of the
men were drunk, though I think they had closed up
the saloons before we got there. That evening I went
back home and went to bed as usual without think-
ing much about it.
I worked in the mine three or four days after this.
There were all kinds of stories, and finally we knew
the Federal troops were coming in. The men began
to get out of town, most of them going over the
trail to Thompson Falls, Mont.
I went down in the mine to work the morning the
troops came, but I saw so few left that I had no
heart to stay, so I quit and got my time. I could
39
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
not get my pay that day, so I went up on the hill
on the north side of the town, as most of the snow
was off there, and it was warm. There were a good
many up there in the same fix I was.
About three or four o'clock the train came creep-
ing up the canon loaded with Federal troops. We
had made arrangements with a business man to give
us a signal from his house, if it was safe for us to
come down. But we got no signal, and we could see
for ourselves what they were doing. They were
rounding up men like a bunch of cattle, and loading
them into box-cars. We sent two men down after it
got dark to find out what we could. The town was
all picketed with soldiers, but they managed to reach
some of the houses, and learned from the women
that they had arrested every man in the place, busi-
ness men and all, even to the postmaster.
About fifteen or twenty of us slept in a miner's
cabin that night, and part of us made up our minds
we would leave the next morning for Thompson
Falls. In the morning they all backed out, except
Pat Dennison and myself, so he and I started about
five o'clock. It was forty miles over there, and the
snow was still deep. We made good headway for
three or four hours, and then the sun had thawed
the snow so that we would sink away down into it.
But we were going down hill then, as we had crossed
40
WE BLOW UP THE BUNKER HILL MILL
the summit, and after we got down a ways the
snow was all gone. We got to Thompson Falls about
ten o'clock that night. We left the next morning
on the three o'clock train for Missoula, Mont.
When we arrived there, we found others there we
knew, but we soon had to scatter from there, and we
found out we had left Thompson Falls just in time,
as they had sent soldiers over there to head any off
that came across the range from the Coeur d'Alenes,
and they did arrest some there. The soldiers that
had been sent to Missoula had scab deputies with
them that knew nearly everybody from that coun-
try, and we left there and went up the Bitter Root
Valley, and stopped there with a friend of some of
the boys that were with us. There were about ten
or twelve of us. We stayed there a few days, and
one of the boys and myself went on up the valley
about ten miles farther, as I knew a man up there
who drove the milk wagon for Markwell Brothers
before I took it and was running a farm there. We
got him to go over to the Coeur d'Alenes, as he was
acquainted there, and get our trunks and collect
what money we had coming, and we worked in his
place while he was gone. He told us how things were
over there; that they had several hundred in the
bull-pen, and were still looking for others.
We left there after he came back, and returned
41
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
where we left the other boys, and later came to Mis-
soula, where we stayed a few days, as the soldiers
had all left, and from there we went to Butte,
Mont. This was the headquarters of the Western Fed-
eration of Miners, and we found hundreds of the
miners there from the Coeur d'Alenes. I was taken
sick going from Missoula to Butte, was sick sev-
eral days after arriving there, and did not feel well
all the time I was there.
I went up to the Western Federation of Miners
headquarters and got a withdrawal card, so I could
go into another union any time. The president, Ed
Boyce, told us he wanted us all to come back to the
Coeur d'Alenes as soon as the soldiers left, by all
means. He said the trouble would soon blow over.
I stayed in Butte about a month, and the trouble
in the Coeur d'Alenes looked as though it had hardly
started. They had about a thousand in the bull-pen,
and about five thousand Federal troops scattered
over the district, and had patrols day and night.
The bull-pen was at Wardner, and they took them
there from other parts of the district.
They were starting up the mines again, and had
inaugurated a card system and an employment office,
and all men looking for work at the mines had to go
to this employment office and get a permit before
they could get a job at the mines. The mine owners
42
WE BLOW UP THE BUNKER HILL MILL
of the Standard and Mammoth mines sent two rep-
resentatives to Butte to hire 600 men and offered
to pay the same scale of wages that had previ-
ously been paid up the canon, which was the union
scale. They also wanted the Butte union to get them
these men, and they would pay their fares over there
and guarantee them all work. They wanted them to
all have union cards and be in good standing. I was
in the union hall at Butte the night this was brought
before the union, and they would not have anything
to do with it. They thought perhaps there might
be some trick in it to get them in trouble through
the permit system they had put in force in the Coeur
d'Alenes, as they required every one taking out one
of these permits to renounce all allegiance to the
Western Federation of Miners, and make an affi-
davit to that effect. Some wanted them to do that
and to go, but others did not like it, as they thought
there might be some catch in it. These men that
came to hire them said there was no catch, but they
would rather have union miners, as they had been
instructed to come to Butte first, and they knew
that practically all the miners in Butte belonged to
the union. They said if they could not get them
there they were instructed to go to Joplin, Mo.,
which was a non-union camp. As the Butte union
would have nothing to do with the proposition, they
43
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
left for Joplin, and the next I heard from there they
were sending men from there by the car-load.
I left Butte and went to Salt Lake City, stayed
there a few days, and went out to Bingham, Utah,
and went to work in the mines. I met a good many
men that I knew from the Coeur d'Alenes, most of
them going under an assumed name, for if it became
known that a man was from the Coeur d'Alenes, he
would have a hard time to get a job, as the Mine
Owners' Association had sent out a black-list of the
men that had worked in the Coeur d'Alenes the time
the Bunker Hill mill was blown up and left there
afterward. One of the mine superintendents that I
knew in Bingham told me if it was known a man
was from the Coeur d'Alenes he would have a hard
time to get a job in any of the mining-camps. That
was the chief reason for men changing their names.
Some, no doubt, were afraid of being taken back,
but it was soon known that the authorities were not
looking for any one.
I worked in Bingham until the Fourth of July,
and went from there to Salt Lake to spend the
Fourth, as it is only twenty-four miles. There was
no miners' union at Bingham at that time. I went
out to the mouth of Little Cottonwood Canon to
work for some contractors that were sinking a shaft
there, worked a couple of months, and then got in
WE BLOW UP THE BUNKER HILL MILL
on the contract. I worked there until Christmas,
and then went back to Bingham and worked that
winter. I worked in and around Salt Lake City until
the next fall, and then went to San Francisco. I
went up to Lake County, California, stayed that
winter, took a trip from there to Los Angeles, and
then went back to Salt Lake City. I drove a milk
wagon there the next summer for the Keystone
Dairy, went to Arizona the next winter, and worked
in a mine there until about March, when I returned
to Salt Lake City. I then went to Nevada and worked
in the mines a short time at State line, then came
back to Salt Lake again and took a short trip up
into southern Idaho with a party to look at some
prospects, but only stayed a short time.
During all this time I did not save any money,
though I worked nearly all the time and always got
the highest wages, and contracted some and made
good money. I made many good resolutions, and
often saved up a few hundred dollars and thought
I would get into some little business for myself.
When I would get away from town, as I often did,
in some out-of-the-way place, I would save my money
and make good resolutions ; but how soon I would
forget them when I would strike town and see a
faro game running, or a game of poker; my money
would burn my pocket. There were many other at-
45
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
tractions, and money always soon got away. I al-
ways bought plenty of good clothes and lived well.
I will now relate the results of the Coeur d'Alene
strike. There was martial law there for the best
part of a year. I think there was only one tried,
that was Paul Corcoran, secretary of the Burke
union. He was sent to the penitentiary for seventeen
years, and was pardoned in about that many months
by a new governor.
The fact is clear that the head officials of the
Western Federation of Miners did not have the best
interests of the union men in the Coeur d'Alenes at
heart. They surely must have known they could not
forcibly take possession of a railroad train, and
twelve or fifteen armed men run that train twenty
miles and take dynamite from a magazine and de-
stroy a quarter of a million dollars' worth of prop-
erty in broad daylight in a civilized country like
this, and nothing be done about it. This was one of
the best organized districts, with the exception of
Wardner, that there was in the country. Mullen,
(Jem, and Burke, and all the mines close to these
towns paid the union scale of wages and recognized
the union, and all the secretary had to do to stop
anybody from working that did not belong to the
union was to tell the foreman at the mine, and if he
went to work they would fire him; but there was
46
WE BLOW UP THE BUNKER HILL MILL
hardly anybody that attempted to go to work if he
did not belong to the union. If he did not have the
money to join, the secretary would take an order
from him, and the company would hold the money
for him and pay him pay-day. To be brief, they had
everything they asked except at this one mine at
Wardner, and they took this course to make them
come to terms, and thus for revenge on this one
mine they disrupted the best organized camps in the
country; for they could not be more thoroughly
organized. This strike broke up every union in the
district for a good while. They have some unions
organized there again now, but there is only one
mine in the district, the Hercules, where a union man
dare say he is a union man or attend a meeting, and
hardly any of the old miners ever got work there
again, except at the Hercules mine, and the man-
ager of this mine was mixed up in this strike.
47
CHAPTER FOUR
I GO TO UVE IN CRIPPLE CREEK
ABOUT the middle of July, 1902, I left Salt
Lake City with Arthur Dulan for Cripple
Creek, Col. On arriving in the district I
stopped at Victor first. I only stayed there a few
days, and then went over to Independence, and Mr.
Dulan introduced me to Johnnie Neville, who ran a
saloon. He was an old miner, and got hurt by a
man falling on him in a stope, and so had to stop
work, and went into the saloon business. Mr. Neville
was a liberal and good-hearted fellow. He and I got
to be quite good friends, and I boarded with him
quite a while.
I will give a little account of the Cripple Creek
district and its surroundings. This was then the
greatest gold-producing camp in the world. It is
about one hundred miles from Denver, and about
thirty miles from Colorado Springs. It has three
different railroads running to it, one from Flor-
ence and two from Colorado Springs. The altitude
is about ten thousand feet above sea level. The cli-
48
I GO TO LIVE IN CRIPPLE CREEK
mate is mild, and there is very little snow in winter.
The country is not rough like most mining-camps.
It is a long way to bed-rock in some places nearly
a hundred feet so it is a pretty hard place to
prospect. I think the district has a population of
about thirty thousand.
Cripple Creek is the largest town, and Victor
next, and there are several other smaller towns.
Goldfield, Independence, Altman, and Midway are
on Bull Hill. Then Elkton and Anaconda lie between
Victor and Cripple Creek, and Cameron lies on the
north side, at the foot of Bull Hill. There is an
electric-car system all over the district, and you can
ride from Cripple Creek to Victor for ten cents, and
the cars run every half-hour. The steam roads also
run suburban trains, so you can ride practically all
over the district. It is more like living in a city than
a mining-camp. They have a fine opera-house at
Victor, and also one at Cripple Creek, and nearly all
the good plays come there. There are good hotels.
There are no company boarding-houses or stores.
All work at the mines is eight hours. The wages
run from $3 to $4 per day, and without an exception
this is the finest mining-camp to work at that there
is in the country, if not in the world. I think they
employ about six thousand miners. There are hardly
any foreigners there, and no Chinamen at all.
49
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
Mr. Neville introduced me to some of the mine
managers, and I got a job in a few days in the
Trachyte mine. I had learned to mine pretty well
by this time, and ran a machine drill. I worked at
the Trachyte about four months, and then had a
little trouble with the engineer and quit. I got a
job right away at the Hull City mine. I worked in
the Hull City altogether three or four months. Then
I went over to the Vindicator No. 1 with Mr. War-
ren, the contractor I was working for at the Hull
City. I worked for them till the strike in August,
1903.
When I was working here at the Vindicator I got
to " high grading." Most of the miners were look-
ing for high-grade ore or " glommings " " some-
thing good for the vest pocket," they called it. The
other ore they called " company ore." 'Most all the
paying mines there had more or less " high grade "
in bunches. Some places in the ore chutes you would
find sylvanite that was almost pure gold. There was
plenty of ore that would run $2 or $3 a pound.
There were two of us working alone in the stope when
I started. We would put high-grade screenings be-
tween our underclothes and pants legs, down where
they were tucked into our shoes. I remember once
of carrying out a little over fifty pounds stored away
in my clothes. My partner said to me, if I fell down,
50
I GO TO LIVE IN CRIPPLE CREEK
I would not be able to get up again. Still, altogether,
I did not get so much as many did. In all I must have
made not to exceed $500 " high-grading " while I was
in Cripple Creek.
I believe there have been hundreds of thousands
of dollars taken out of these mines this way. I
know of one man that it was said made about
$20,000 in two years, and smaller amounts are
accredited to others. There was a superintendent
at Independence that some of the miners have told
me they stood in with, and had to divide up with.
He was a gambling fiend, and used to lose twice as
much as his salary was every month gambling. There
were plenty of assayers that made a business of
buying stolen ore. There were four assay shops in
the little town of Independence, and besides the pro-
ducing mines had their own assayers. These outside
assayers were mostly all there to buy high-grade
ore from the miners. The miner would steal it from
the mine, and when he took it to the assayer to sell
it, the assayer would steal about half of it from the
miner, and the miner could not say anything, and
the assayer knew this. The only thing he could do
was to take it to another assayer, but I never found
any difference. They were all alike, and had an
understanding with each other, and they would all
give about the same returns. They would buy any-
51
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
thing that would run fifty cents or over a pound,
and some would buy a lower grade. There were sev-
eral of these assay offices blown up in Cripple Creek
once, I think, seven in one night. This was laid
to the mine owners, and no doubt they had it done,
thinking this would scare the assayers out, and
the miners would have no place to sell the ore and
would not steal it. The mine owners used to watch
pretty close, and in some mines made the miners
change their clothes down to their underclothes at
the mines, but there was always some way to get
" high grade " out.
I worked around the mines on Bull Hill about a
year before the strike, spending my money as fast
as I earned it. I worked pretty steadily and got
good wages $4 per day of eight hours most of
the time, and the " high grade " on the side. Still
I was a very unhappy man, and seemingly had no
mind of my own and no purpose in life, and often
wished I was dead, and often thought to end my mis-
erable existence. I tried to be cheerful, and think
perhaps I made a good showing on the outside, but
if any human mortal could have read my inner
thoughts as God can, they would have had a dif-
ferent story to tell.
I often drank to stop and deaden my thoughts,
for sometimes my past life would rise up before me
52
I GO TO LIVE IN CRIPPLE CREEK
as fresh as though it was but a day ago, and, try
as hard as I could, I could not get it out of my
mind. I would think of my dear wife and little girl,
and wonder if they were still living and how they
were getting along. At such times I would go to
the saloon and drink to drown the sorrow, as I
thought I must forget that they were anything to
me. I often thought I would take a trip back there
and disguise myself and see what had become of
them, but I never got started. I used to go out in
company some, but never enjoyed myself.
I met a lady in Cripple Creek and kept company
with her a short time that spring, and asked her to
marry me, and she consented. She was a widow and
was keeping house; her husband was killed in the
mines there a few years before. Her name was Ida
Toney. I saved up a little money, and we were mar-
ried. I think this was in June. I did not mean any-
thing wrong to her, and thought the past dead to
me, and thought if I had some place I could call
home I would be more contented. I was going under
an assumed name, and it was about seven years since
I had heard from home. I had never met any one
I knew, and as I had changed a great deal during
that time, I did not think any one would recognize
me.
This was a good, true little woman, and while I
53
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
might not have loved her as a man ought to love
the woman he is going to make his wife, still I loved
her as much as I could love any one, and thought
enough of her to be good to her, and intended to
take care of her well. I had worked about two
months after we were married when the strike was
called in August, 1903. In that short time after we
were married, I had saved up a little money and
bought some furniture, and had it almost paid for,
and fixed up the house some. Mrs. Toney owned the
house herself.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE BIG STRIKE OP 1903
I HAD never taken any particular interest in
unions up to this time. I had never worked
anywhere, since leaving Burke, Idaho, where
there was a miners' union till I came to Cripple
Creek. W. F. Davis and W. B. Easterly had come
to me when I first went to work in the district, and
asked me to join the Altaian union. I knew Davis
from the Cceur d'Alenes. He was the man that had
command of the union men when we blew up the
Bunker Hill and Sullivan mill. He was president of
the Altman union now, and Easterly was secretary.
So after I had a pay-day I went up and joined this
union. Still, I never took much interest in it till the
strike.
The Cripple Creek district was considered a union
district, notwithstanding there were a good many
men working there that did not belong to the union,
and part of the mines ran on the open-shop prin-
ciple. The big mines on Bull Hill all recognized the
unions, and this end practically controlled the unions
55
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
of the district. There were eight unions in the dis-
trict one miners' union at Victor, one at Cripple
Creek, one at Anaconda, and one at Altman; one
engineers' union at Victor, one at Cripple Creek,
and one at Independence; and a mill- and smelter-
men's union at Victor. These unions each selected
one or two delegates, and the delegates composed
the district union.
The Victor union was the largest and most con-
servative. The men belonging to the Free Coinage
union at Altman, where I was a member, used to
often be called " the Bull Hill dynamiters." This was
only the third largest miners' union in the district,
but they had always had very radical leaders. Dan Mc-
Ginley had been a former leader. He had been looked
up to as a great man, and although dead they used
to keep his memory alive by having his picture
hanging in the union hall.
The Cripple Creek district was so large that the
unions could not control it the same as they did the
Coeur d'Alenes, and non-union men were pretty safe
in big towns like Victor and Cripple Creek, but the
Free Coinage union had the vicinity of Bull Hill
well under their control, the same as in the Coeur
d'Alenes, and there was hardly a man both working
and living on Bull Hill that did not belong to some
of the unions. There had been a great many men
56
THE BIG STRIKE OF 1903
beaten up and run away from there because they
did not join the unions, or pay their dues, or be-
cause they were suspected of being spies. The Free
Coinage miners' union kept a " timber gang," as
they called them, to do this work. Easterly, who
was ex-secretary, and Sherman Parker, who was sec-
retary when the strike came, had helped to do this
kind of work before they became officers of the
union. Steve Adams, Billy Aikman, " Slim " Camp-
bell, H. H. McKinney, Billy Gaffney, and Ed Min-
ster and others were in the gang. These men hardly
ever worked and always seemed to have plenty of
money, and Steve Adams has since told me they were
ready for any old thing, from running men out of
the district to killing them, as long as they got the
money.
This strike in August, 1903, was called because
the Standard mill in Colorado City discriminated
against union men, and the miners at Cripple Creek
were called out in order to cut off the ore supply
from the Standard mill and force a settlement. The
Telluride mill was also closed at Colorado City. The
Portland mine was the only big mine that was not
called out, as it had its own mills and granted the
union's demand. There were a few smaller mines
working, but only a few. One strike against the mills
was called in February, and some of the miners went
57
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
out for a short time in March. Then there was a
settlement for a while, but in July the mill-men were
called out again, because it was claimed Mr. Mac-
Neill, the manager of the Standard mill, was not
keeping his agreement; and on August 10th the
Cripple Creek miners went out again.
I knew this whole thing had been arranged at the
Western Federation of Miners' convention at Den-
ver in May and June of 1903. And while I do not
think the convention acted on it officially, the leaders
on the executive board and some of the local leaders
in Colorado agreed to make Colorado a " slaughter
ground," as W. F. Davis later expressed it to me
that is, to call out all the miners, mill-men, and
smelter-men in Colorado, and force all the manage-
ments to give them all an eight-hour day and a
recognition of the union. Most places in the mines
and mills of Colorado had the eight-hour day
though the smelter-men and the Leadville miners and
perhaps some others did not. But there were many
conditions which the Federation leaders did not like,
and they meant to change them at this time. Hay-
wood and Moyer and others of the labor leaders
have told me that they took advantage of the legis-
lature failing to pass an eight-hour bill after the
State had voted for it the year before by such a large
majority, to make all the mines, mills, and smelters,
58
THE BIG STRIKE OF 1903
where unions were organized, recognize the unions
and pay the union's scale of wages all over Colorado.
At the same convention, they passed a resolution
allowing the head officers of the union to call a strike
if they thought best to, when they wanted to sup-
port another strike.
Mr. Moyer and Mr. Haywood have always denied
that they had anything to do with calling this Crip-
ple Creek strike, because this resolution did not take
effect for six months, until after it was indorsed by
the local unions. They claimed that the district
union of Cripple Creek called the strike there. This
is true, they did call the strike, but they were acting
on advice, and you might say orders, from Moyer
and Haywood. The district union in Cripple Creek
was mostly composed of men that were controlled
by Moyer and Haywood, and it appointed three men
on the committee to see about calling the strike, and
they approved of it. Sherman Parker and W. F.
Davis of the Altman union were on this, and Charles
Kennison of Cripple Creek, all radical men ; and the
Victor union, that was the largest miners' union in
the district, and was conservative, had no repre-
sentative at all, while the most radical one and the
next to the smallest, at Altman, had two. If this
sympathetic strike had been left to a referendum
vote of the miners of the district, it never would
59
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
have passed, and the men who favored this strike
knew this. I never will think it is wise to call out
four or five thousand men to enforce the demands
of a hundred and fifty or two hundred. And I know
that many quit against their will when the order
came.
Some will ask, " What did they quit for? they did
not have to." There are several reasons why men quit
against their will. In the first place, the unions were
in the great majority, and had most of the local
peace officers on their side. Men had been run out
of the district and beaten up because they would
not join the union, and they could not expect much
protection from the local authorities, and again men
did not like to be called " scabs " and to have their
names, and in many instances their photographs,
sent to every miners' union in the country, for
miners travel around a good deal. The secretaries
of the unions post up these names in the union
halls, and also the photographs, if they have them.
There is 'most always some one in every camp that
knows these men, and many men have disappeared
in mysterious ways, and others have been killed in
various ways while working in the mines. These are
always reported as accidents, and some of them no
doubt are, but I know of some that were not, and
have been told by reliable sources that many are not,
60
THE BIG STRIKE OF 1903
and I know there are many ways to get away with
a man working in the mines and make it appear
an accident. So, after taking all these things into
consideration, one can readily understand why men
quit work and go on a strike when ordered to do so
by their officers.
As I have said, it was the intention of the Fed-
eration leaders to call the miners out all over the
State, and tie up the mines, mills, reduction works,
and smelters. They called out the smelter-men at the
Globe and Grant smelter works at Denver. They
also tried to call out all the miners in the San Juan
district, as they were well organized there, but most
of the miners in this district had agreements with
the mine operators and would not break them. How-
ever, at Telluride they found a way around this.
Most of the men went on strike for an eight-hour
day for a few mill-men there, although many of the
mill-men did not quit themselves, but were forced
to by the closing of the mines. The Smuggler-Union
miners did not strike, but they got the cooks and
waiters at their boarding-houses to leave, and this
gave the miners an excuse to quit, as they would
not board where there were non-union cooks and
waiters. Telluride was the only camp in the San
Juan district where they succeeded in getting the
unionists to quit work. I think they had from ten
61
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
to twelve hundred men in the miners' union at Tel-
luride.
C. H. Moyer, president of the Western Federa-
tion, tried to get the miners out at Ouray, but they
finally decided not to come out, after he had got
them once to vote to do so. At Silverton the largest
union in the district absolutely refused to come out.
Most of the coal-miners in Colorado went on strike,
too, about this time.
But, as I have stated, in Cripple Creek the men
practically all quit work when ordered to do so, and
there was a strike committee appointed, and there
was a circular sent out from headquarters to all
kinds of unions throughout the country soliciting
money for a fund which they called the " eight-hour
fund." And they also sent men all over the country
soliciting aid for the strikers. They got up great
public sympathy because the legislatures refused to
pass the eight-hour bill, as they should have done
when the people of the State voted so strong for it.
But, as I have explained, the big strike at Cripple
Creek had nothing to do with the eight-hour law,
and this was the case at Telluride, so far as the
miners themselves were concerned.
CHAPTER SIX
THE MILITIA COME TO CRIPPLE CREEK
AT first, after the strike was called at Cripple
Creek, things went on pretty orderly for two
or three weeks. The sheriff was a union man be-
fore he was elected, and the union men expected him
to protect them. There were some non-union men
brought in, and some of them were deputized, and
the union men were after the sheriff to make him
arrest the non-union men for carrying concealed
weapons, and the mine operators were after him to
disarm the union men. 'Most every one went armed,
and there were several arrested on each side. If a
non-union man was brought up before a justice of
the peace that was a union sympathizer, he would
be fined the limit, and if a union man was brought
before a non-union sympathizer, he would be fined
the limit. The justices were nearly all either union
men or sympathizers, and they would let the union
men go as light as possible, but the non-union
justices did the same for their men. The mine opera-
tors were after the sheriff to call upon Governor
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
Peabody for the militia, and the union men were
after him not to, but to deputize all the men he
wanted, and they would furnish them, and he was
between two fires. There had been no depredations
committed this time, and the strike committee as-
sured the sheriff there would be none.
The last of the month there was a non-union man
brought before a justice of the peace in Anaconda,
named Hawkins, for carrying concealed weapons,
and he was let off with a light fine or none at all, I
have forgotten which. A few days afterward this
justice was over at Altman one afternoon, and Ed
Minster and " Slim " Campbell, of the Altman " tim-
ber gang," slugged and beat him up some, and this
was the real beginning of hostilities. Right after
this there was an old non-union carpenter named
Stewart taken out of his house at Independence at
night, beaten up and shot and left for dead. This
was done by the Altman " timber gang." The strike
committee and union leaders were always advising
the rank and file of the unions publicly to be quiet
and not commit any acts of violence, but secretly
they were having these things done. I did not know
that then, of course. The mine operators appealed
to the sheriff to call on the governor for troops, but
he said he would not, as he said he was able to handle
the situation.
64
THE MILITIA COME TO CRIPPLE CREEK
So the Mayor of Victor and some of the leading
citizens of Victor and Cripple Creek petitioned the
governor for troops, and he sent a committee to
investigate, and the troops followed the next day.
This was on September 4th, I think. The troops
were in charge of Sherman Bell, adjutant-general of
Colorado. I think there were between a thousand
and twelve hundred of the State militia. They did
not declare martial law at first, but the troops acted
with the civil authorities.
I just want to say a word in regard to the State
militia, and especially when they are mustered in
on short notice. Every place I have seen them,
there has always been a low, hobo element among
them, and while there is, no doubt, plenty of good
men, this low rowdy element always take advantage
of their position and commit many disgraceful
things, and the whole body are blamed for them. It
is not my purpose to wrongfully criticize either
party, but I want to give the facts as they occurred.
There were several deputies there, working with the
militia, that were men who had just recently been
paroled or pardoned from the State penitentiary,
and had come almost direct to Cripple Creek and
been deputized. Some of these men were well known
in the district, and had been sent to the penitentiary
from there, and they were considered all-round bad
65
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
men, and showed no signs of reform. When I saw
some of these miltia and ex-convicts going around
to men's houses searching for firearms sometimes
at night after men had retired ; and I knew some of
them had no respect for the privacy of the wives and
families it made me angry. This, of course, did not
happen much, but it happened enough to create a
very bitter feeling.
In this strike, as in most others, the real issue
at stake was soon lost sight of. Especially if the
militia is called upon, a strike soon narrows down
to a personal enmity between the militia and the non-
union men on one side, and the union men on the
other. As frictions arise, as they surely will, most
of the strikers forget the real cause of the strike,
and although a man at first might not have been
in sympathy with the strike, and might have known
it was wrong, as he sees the non-union men being
shipped in and herded by the militia like cattle, he
forgets all about this, and he hates these men and
hates the militia, and they become more and more
bitter toward each other. The union men call the
militia " scabs " and " scab herders," and the militia
call the union men anarchists and dynamiters, and
the breach widens as the strike proceeds, and it is
more like two hostile armies only the strikers know
they cannot fight in the open. After they are prod-
66
THE MILITIA COME TO CRIPPLE CREEK
ded around with a rifle and bayonet a while, they
begin to think up some way to get even, and men
will do things at such times, and feel justified in,
that they would not think of at ordinary times.
When the militia first arrived in the Cripple Creek
district, they were divided into three camps one
near Anaconda, one between Victor and Goldfield,
and the other on Bull Hill between Independence
and Altman. There had been no disturbance there
since Stewart had been beaten up and shot, and there
wasn't much for the militia to do that way at first.
Their first work was to guard the mines, as fast as
they got non-union men to start them up. During
August there were union pickets armed with six-
shooters around the mines, but there were no union
pickets placed at the mines after the militia arrived.
The militia patrolled the district day and night with
cavalry, and there were guards stationed at all the
non-union mines.
67
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE EXPLOSION IN THE VINDICATOR MINE
I THOUGHT at first I would not have anything
to do with the strike, and I had taken no part
in it up to the time the militia came. I had been
" high-grading," and had a little money saved up,
and had not asked for any relief from the union.
A few days after the militia arrived, Johnnie Neville
and myself went to Denver, and went from there
over to Routt County hunting, and were gone about
a month.
There had nothing unusual occurred then. But
soon after we left, the militia made several arrests
of men active in the union most of them from the
Bull Hill end of the district. Some of these men,
whose names I remember, were Sherman Parker, W.
F. Davis, W. B. Easterly, H. H. McKinney, Tom
Foster, Paddy Mulaney, " Slim " Campbell, and Vic-
tor Poole. The militia established a " bull-pen " at
Goldfield. This was nothing like the " bull-pen " in
the Co3ur d'Alenes. It was a small affair. I do not
think they ever had had more than twenty arrested
EXPLOSION IN THE VINDICATOR MINE
at once up to that time. They used a small jail at
first, and afterward they built a special house. This
was not over twelve by twenty feet, I should say.
We thought perhaps the strike would be settled
by the time we came back from hunting, but we
found out when we came out from the hills that it
was far from settled, and was getting worse all the
time. If I had not been married there, I would not
have gone back, but I went back about the middle
of October.
While we had been gone, the civil courts and the
militia officers had been fighting over the union
leaders they had in the "bull-pen." The judge of
the district court had issued habeas corpus papers
to compel the militia officers to bring these men into
court and show cause for holding them. The officers
were satisfied they ought to hold these men, but they
knew they could not prove anything against them and
did not want to take them into court. But they were
finally brought into court, and the judge ordered them
released or turned over to the civil authorities. The
officers refused at first to do this, and the union
leaders wanted the judge to have the sheriff enforce
his order, and the sheriff to deputize enough men
and arm them to carry it out. This would have meant
much bloodshed, as it would not have been much
trouble to get men to fight the militia, and the miners
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
had a good many arms and plenty of ammunition.
But the lawyers advised the judge not to do this.
Now, nothing could have happened to suit the
head officers of the union any better than this, un-
less it would have been for the judge to direct the
sheriff to enforce his order. This looked to the pub-
lic like persecution, and as if these militia officers
wanted to hold these men in the " bull-pen " just
because they were union men and leaders. But finally
the governor ordered the union men released, and
there was no more trouble then.
After this first clash between the civil officers and
the militia, things went along pretty quiet for a
time. The militia released the men, and after that
they and the civil officers worked more in harmony.
I did not take any active part. I attended the union
meetings and felt more in sympathy with them, as
I, like 'most every one else, thought they were per-
secuting these men because they were active union
men, and I hated the militia more than I did the
non-union men. But I hated them all, and felt more
bitter against them all the time. Some of the militia
were camped at first not more than a hundred yards
from our house. There were some kids among them
that did not look to be more than fifteen years old.
They would be peddling ham and anything else they
had to the saloons for whisky, and the better ac-
70
EXPLOSION IN THE VINDICATOR MINE
quainted they got with the people, the more officious
they got. I am speaking of these things to show
the reader how such bitter feelings get worked up
between men at such times. There were some of the
militia that lived, or had lived, in the district, and
they sometimes had some old score to settle with
the union men, as none of the union belonged to the
militia.
During the quiet time I went to " high-grading "
again in the Vindicator mine. This was a little risky,
as the shaft we had to go down was only about a
hundred feet from the shaft house, where some of
the militia were camped ; but as this shaft had no
shaft house over it, we could get out of sight pretty
quick. This " high-grading " was no easy job, as
we had to climb down an old man-way 900 feet,
where the ladders were out in some places, and then
go through old stopes and drifts 2,000 or 3,000
feet, dig out our load, and pack it back. This
would take us nearly all night. We would pack all
the way from forty to eighty pounds. Sometimes
this would not be very high grade ; we got from fifty
cents to a dollar a pound for it. When it got below
that, we quit.
During our trip into this mine, we discovered they
had stored about a car-load of dynamite in a cross-
cut on the eighth level of the mine. I met Davis, the
71
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
president of the Altman union, right after that, and,
more as a joke than anything else, I said there was
a car-load of powder down in the mine, and if they
wanted to do anything, they could go down and
blow that up. But he seemed to take it seriously,
and talked about how we could do it. A few days
afterward they started this mine up, as they were
starting the mines as fast as they could get men.
The strike leaders would report to the unions every
week that the mines had only a few men, and would
soon have to settle with the unions, but it was very
evident that, while the mine owners might not be
getting first-class men, they were getting all the
men they wanted, and that they had no intention
of yielding to the demands of the union.
Davis came to me a few days afterward and
wanted to know if I would go down and set that
powder off when the shift was at work. He said he
would get "Slim" Campbell to go with me, and
give me $200. After he had talked a while, he said
he would have to go and get this money at Federa-
tion headquarters, and it might take him three or four
days after we did the job, but he would be sure to
get it. He said we would have to do something to
scare these " scabs " away, and scare our men and
keep them in line, or the strike was lost.
Now, when Davis talked this way to me, it was
72
EXPLOSION IN THE VINDICATOR MINE
the first time I ever knew that the head officers of
the Federation were responsible for the many dep-
redations that had been laid to the Western Fed-
eration of Miners. I did always believe that these
crimes were caused by union men, as the victim was
invariably some one opposed to the union, but I
always supposed some hot-headed union man did
these things of his own accord, and 'most all of the
union men believed this, for if it had been known
the strike leaders were responsible for any such
violence, the union would not have tolerated it for
a minute. But after Davis proposed to me to blow up
the Vindicator mine, and said he would have to go to
Denver to get the money for me, I then began to real-
ize that the head officers must be behind these things.
Now, only looking at one side of the question, and
having no money as the little I did have I depos-
ited in the First National Bank of Victor, and that
institution had failed and left me without a cent
the resentful feeling I had against these " scabs,"
who were taking our places, together with the offer
of money, influenced me. I told Davis I would go
down and set off the dynamite, but I would rather
go alone than with " Slim " Campbell. He said if
I would he would give me $200. Of course, if we
set this car-load of powder off, it would blow out the
whole mine and kill everybody in it.
73
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
I afterward thought I would go and ask Joe
Schultz, who had been down there " high-grading "
with me, and see what he thought about it. He also
knew the powder was there, as we had gotten two
fifty-pound boxes of it, and carried it up and sold
it to some leasers we knew. After I told him about
it and about the money, he said he thought we would
be justified in doing it. He was a quiet, conservative
fellow, but this strike had made him feel just as I
did. So we got our things ready, and went down
in the mine, and waited until we thought the night-
shift had gone up to lunch at twelve o'clock. We
had to go by the station on the shaft in the eighth
level to go where the powder was. We went out
pretty close to the station, and waited about ten
minutes, and thought sure they had all gone up,
and we knew we had to hurry, as they took only a
half -hour for lunch.
We started out to the station, which was all
lighted up with electric lights, and as we got close
to it there was a eager there, who said, " Hurry up,
boys, this is the last cage." He thought we were some
of the miners at work, and had been late getting out.
This so surprised us that we began to back up in
the dark, as we were not masked and he might know
us. But he got his light and began to follow us, and
as we had our light out, we could not go very fast
74
EXPLOSION IN THE VINDICATOR MINE
in the dark, and we had to make him go back. We
took a couple of shots at him, as we both had six-
shooters. We did not hurt him, but he went back
in a hurry, and we knew we had to get out of the
mine as quick as possible, and we did not bother
to look for the powder. We told, or at least I told,
Davis afterward it was not there. I told him we went
on across to where it was after we shot at this fellow,
and they had moved it which proved to be true,
as we found out afterward they had moved it up into
the magazine the first day they began work. We
knew nothing about this when I told Davis, but I
wanted to make out how brave we were, and they,
of course, believed us, after they learned it had been
moved.
But, to tell the truth about myself, I was pretty
badly scared, and I think my partner was in the
same fix. We had to go up a hundred feet to the
stope, and then go a couple of thousand feet or so
through a drift, and then go down through another
old stope on the timbers, and crawl on our stomachs
in some places through a narrow passage we had dug
out when we were " high-grading," and climb about
nine hundred feet up an old, wet man-way, where
the ladders were out in some places. The militia were
camped out over a hundred feet from where we came
up, and the place was well lighted up with electric
75
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
lights. We came up as fast as we possibly could,
and made good headway, as we knew the way well
and were used to climbing out of there with a load,
but still it took us about half an hour. My partner
wanted me to tell them, if we were caught, that we
were down counting how many machines there were
running; but I told him he could do as he pleased,
I was going to shoot my way out and take a chance
if the shaft was guarded, as we expected it would
be. I knew this was our best chance to get out, for
if we waited until the next day, and we were missed,
they would surely guard every possible place, al-
though there were a dozen or more places we could
get out. Although they had a half-hour to set
guards, there were no guards at this shaft, and we
came out unnoticed. After we got away so we were
out of danger, the world never looked quite so large to
me before, and surely kind Providence was with us, for
they had every other entrance guarded, and kept
them all guarded for some days, thinking we were
still somewhere in the mine. I reported our experi-
ence to Davis and Parker the next day.
This caused no little excitement at the mine, as
the eager reported it, and none of the men would
go down to work again, but all went home, and they
had the sheriff and some of his men over there and
kept the soldiers down in the mines for guards. After
76
EXPLOSION IN THE VINDICATOR MINE
the excitement subsided a little, the officials reported
they believed the eager was lying and just made up
his report, and they fired him. Whether the officials
believed this or not, I do not know, or whether they
just told it so the men would not be afraid to work
in the mine, for a good many were quitting. But
it soon died out, and many believed it was only a
story gotten up by the mine operators to keep the
soldiers there.
I went to Davis after this and wanted him to let
me have $35. I wanted this to pay some taxes for
my wife (Mrs. Toney), on some mining property
she had in South Park. He said first he would see
if he could get it, but he said no more about it.
I then asked Sherman Parker, the secretary of the
Altman union, about it, and he said he was going
to Denver in a short time to get some money from
the Federation headquarters, as he had to pay some
others for some work they were on. He said he
supposed he would have a hard time to make them
dig up, as nothing had been done. He spoke of
the failure they had made in blowing up the pow-
der plant at Colorado Springs, and he said all the
attempts they had made to pull off something had
failed, and luck seemed to be against them. He
said he hated to ask headquarters for more money
until we pulled off something. He said if we could
77
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
have killed that fellow we shot at in the mine we
could easily have gotten all the money we wanted,
so I said nothing more at that time. Parker and
Davis talked to me again about blowing up the Vin-
dicator or the Findley mine, and wondered if we could
not get some kind of a trap by the shaft, so when
the cage came down with the " scabs " it would set
off a bomb. But I thought this was not a good idea,
for if the cage was to set it off, they might run the
cage down empty for they often did this and so
we would not get anybody. Parker came to me and
told me he would give me $500 if I would fix some-
thing in either mine to kill some of them so as to scare
the rest and make them quit, and keep our men from
going back to work, and scare outside men from com-
ing in there to work. I thought this looked easy. I
knew I could go down after the shift went off at
night and set this, if they did not have guards in
the mine.
I got Easterly, who knew all about these things,
and we went up in an old vacant building, and shot
a six-shooter into some giant caps to see if this
would set them off, and it did. So we conceived the
idea of fastening a six-shooter on the timber of the
shaft at the station, and fastening a wire to the
trigger of the six-shooter and to the guard rail,
so that when they raised the guard rail it would pull
78
EXPLOSION IN THE VINDICATOR MINE
the trigger; we would have the powder under this
buried in the dirt, and a box of giant caps right
close to the muzzle of the gun. These guard rails
are always raised by the men as they get out of the
cage, and then lowered again to prevent any one
or anything from falling into the shaft. Easterly
did not go with me, because none of these active
labor leaders did anything themselves, if they could
help it. They always managed to be in some con-
spicuous place when anything was likely to happen.
I went to Schultz, who had been with me when
we started to blow up the powder, and asked him
if he wanted to try it again. He said no, he did not
care to take another chance when there was nothing
in it if it failed, and besides he was working then
for some leasers. I told him I did not think I wanted
anything to do with it either. I said this so he would
not think I did it if it happened. I told Parker he
did not want to go, and he spoke of Billy Aikman,
and said he was not afraid of a little blood either.
I knew this man, and asked him if he wanted to help
do a little job, and he said yes, he did. I think Parker
had spoken to him in the mean time. So I went and
rustled some powder from Joe Craig, Mrs. Toney's
brother, who was a leaser, and he thawed it out for
me. I thought we ought to have a man to stay at
the mouth of the shaft, or a little down in it, while
79
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
we went down and set this. So I got Billy Gaffney,
and also got some more powder from him, and we
went to his house, which was not far from the shaft,
and got everything ready.
When the shift went off, about 2.30 in the morn-
ing, we took about fifty pounds of dynamite, and
went down the shaft of the Vindicator mine, and
across in a drift to the main shaft No. 1. We were
on the fourth level then, and we climbed down the
main shaft to the sixth level, and we looked around
and thought this was the seventh level. I had not
worked on the seventh level of this mine, and had
been off there only a time or so, and it looked to me
like the seventh level. We hurried to set this as I
have described, and I used my own six-shooter. Then
we got out as soon as we could. This was not the
same way we usually came in, but Aikman said this
was the best way, and besides we thought they might
be guarding our former passage or have closed it
up, as it came from another property. When we
came to the surface, we could not find our watcher,
and we suspicioned there was something wrong, but
we could not hear or see anything, and we came out
unmolested. We found Gaffney later, and he said
he got to coughing, and thought he had better leave.
We had some turpentine which we poured along in
our tracks after we started away from the mine,
80
EXPLOSION IN THE VINDICATOR MINE
so they couldn't follow us with dogs, and got home
all right.
Davis came to my house the next morning before
I was up and wanted to know if we had set the bomb.
I told him we had, and he said there was no excite-
ment about the mine. I got up about noon and went
down to the house of Billy Aikman, and he had heard
nothing, so we thought it must be another failure,
and we watched around the mine to see if we could
find out anything, but we could not see anything
unusual, nor did we hear anything for a week.
During the time that elapsed between our setting
the bomb and the explosion, I tried again to get
some money from Davis and Parker, and the latter
told me he was going to Denver in a day or two, and
he would try to get some from the Federation head-
quarters, but he also told me they were trying to
pull something off, and if it came off it would be
no trouble for him to get money. He told me they
had made an attempt a night or two before to ditch
the Florence and Cripple Creek train that left Mid-
way for Cripple Creek at 2.30 A. M. He said their
tools broke, and they had to leave the job partly
finished, and that H. H. McKinney, one of the men
that had made the attempt, had walked along by
the place that day, and there were two men standing
looking at what they had done. Parker told me they
81
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
were going to work at a different place, on one of
the high banks between Victor and Cripple Creek.
This early morning train carried the night-shifts of
non-union miners that lived on Cripple Creek and
worked on Bull Hill to and from their work. Most
all of these non-union men that worked there then
lived in Cripple Creek or Victor, because it was safer
there for them than anywhere else.
There were a good many union men working in
the Portland mine. The reader will remember that
this mine was not affected at this time by the strike,
and there were five or six hundred men working
there, and all supposed to be union men. Some thirty
or forty of these union men that were working on
the night-shift lived in Cripple Creek and rode on
this night train, and if they ditched this train they
would be likely to kill the union men also. But a
few days before they were going to ditch this train,
they made arrangements for a car with the electric
road, and the union miners of the Portland were
supposed to ride on the electric car. Whether this
arrangement was made to protect them and keep
them off the steam train they were going to wreck,
I do not know, as none of them ever told me and I
never asked them, but I supposed that was what it
was for.
When Parker told me this, we were in the union
00
c
EXPLOSION IN THE VINDICATOR MINE
hall at Victor. He told me how they intended to
work the job, and said he had gotten the men some
good tools in place of the ones they had broken,
so he thought it would be a go all right this time,
and he said, " If it comes off to-night, there will
be martial law here to-morrow."
After he told me this, I felt somewhat jealous and
angry. I hate to write this, but I cannot tell any-
thing but the truth, and I must not try to favor
myself. Yes, I was jealous to think they would go
and get some one else to do an easy job like that,
after I had taken such chances down in the mine,
and right under the very noses of the soldiers. This
looked like an easy thing to me beside what they
wanted me to do, and I was angry because, after
I had gone through all the worst part and taken
all the chances, they should go and get some one
else to do an easy job like that, and would not give me
a pleasant look, or at least would not give me a few
dollars. I had used my own six-shooter and rustled
fifty pounds of powder, and they knew I did not have
a cent. I felt pretty sore, and made up my mind right
there to go to Cripple Creek and notify the railroad
authorities and block their game, and quit the out-
fit and expose them. I also meant to tell them about
putting that trap in the Vindicator mine, for I felt
sure they had found it by that time. But when we
83
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
started to go home from Victor that night, it was
snowing pretty hard, and Parker said they would
not be able to pull that off to-night, and he said, " It's
more hard luck, everything seems to be against us."
I felt sure they would not attempt it, as they could
be easily tracked in the snow, and so I did not go
to Cripple Creek that night, because I thought the
next day would do just as well.
The next afternoon I went to Cripple Creek. I
knew one of the conductors on that road, and I
talked to him on the way over and asked him who
the proper authorities would be to go to, and, in
fact, I told him there might be some plot to wreck
the train. He said, " They did try to do something
last night, did they not? " And I said I did not
know but I thought not. He said he thought they
did, but he told me to go to D. C. Scott, who was
their secret-service agent, and I think he introduced
me to Scott. Scott's office was over the depot at
Cripple Creek.
I talked with Mr. Scott and told him all the de-
tails I knew, and when I had told him everything,
he said he believed me. He said he was one of the
two men standing by the rail when McKinney went
by, and he also told me that McKinney was now
under arrest, and they were looking for his partner.
He also told me they had made a second attempt the
84
EXPLOSION IN THE VINDICATOR MINE
night before, and had taken the outside rail clear
out; this was over between Elkton and Victor. I
was surprised at this, for that was the first time
I knew they had made the attempt, as I thought the
snow would hinder them; but they figured on get-
ting to Victor, and they could not track them in
the city, as the snow would all be tracked up there.
I told him I would not tell him how I knew this,
at this time, at least; I told him I just happened
to find it out by accident through a friend of mine.
He thanked me and wanted me to come over and
see him again, and I told him I would, and I intended
to tell them more and quit the gang.
I will have to say that this was not from any re-
morse of conscience I had. I would to God I could
say it was, but I cannot, for I had no conscience,
or, if any, it was seared so with sin it would not act.
No, I was prompted to do this from purely a selfish
and jealous standpoint, although much good might
have come out of it. I would have no doubt exposed
those two men as soon as I had been assured of pro-
tection, if it had not been for the following incident :
I went home that night and told Mr. Scott I
would come back over and see him again in a day
or so, but a day or two after, I think about noon,
as I was going to Victor, I heard that the Vindica-
tor mine was blown up and a lot of men killed. I
85
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
went on to Victor, and in a little while word came
that Charlie McCormic and "Mel" Beck, the su-
perintendent and shift boss, were killed and the
station on the sixth level was wrecked. Then we soon
figured how the trap had been there for so long and
not set off. I have before told you we intended to
put this on the seventh level and thought we had
until now, as we knew they were not working above
the seventh level, but we made the mistake and got
this on the sixth level instead of the seventh, and it
happened no one got off the cage on this particular
level during the time since we had set this bomb.
But it seemed the superintendent and shift boss were
going in on the sixth level to see about starting up
some work, and they were the first to raise the
guard rail, and both got killed and blown to pieces
right there.
Now, when I heard this I was very sorry that I
had told Scott what I had, for I thought I had to
stand pat then, and I was afraid to see Scott for
fear he would suspect me of knowing more than I
told him, and I was afraid I would act nervous if
he sent for me, which I felt sure he would, and I was
nervous at first when I heard these men were killed.
I had no thought of killing them ; I thought it would
kill a cage-load of non-union men, as the men always
went down first going on shift. I knew both McCor-
EXPLOSION IN THE VINDICATOR MINE
mick and Beck, and they were good fellows, and
good men to work for. As I expected, Mr. Scott
sent me a letter to come over to Cripple Creek, he
wanted to see me right away. I felt nervous and was
afraid to go for fear he would notice it. This was
the first of anything like that I had been mixed up
in, and I was afraid it would haunt me, and I rather
wished I had not done it at first. I saw them when
they took the bodies to the coroner. But I saw Davis
and Parker, and they braced me up and said it was
all right.
87
CHAPTER EIGHT
MY FIRST VISIT TO HEADQUABTEUS
THE Vindicator explosion happened on a Sat-
urday, when we were all over to Victor. Davis
and I went home, and I intended to stay there
that night. But after supper Davis came to my
house and wanted me to go over to Victor with him
to the union meeting. Davis was on the strike com-
mittee, and was going over to make the weekly re-
port the committee had to give every union about
how the strike was going. I told him I had better
not go, and that it would be better for me not to
be seen with him, as they might mistrust me. He
said there was no good of being afraid. He said to
look at Parker; that he was liable to be lynched for
the explosion. And that was right ; I knew they were
talking about it. Anyway, I got ready, and we went
to the meeting. After the meeting Parker and Davis
and I walked home together as far as the lower end
of Independence, and I told them I was not going
to be seen any more with them. I told Parker and
Davis they ought to give me some money, so if I had
88
MY FIRST VISIT TO HEADQUARTERS
to hike out I could. I told them they were likely to
be arrested, and I would not have a cent if I wanted
to go away. Parker told me he would give me some
the next day. He said it would be no trouble to get
money now from headquarters. So we parted, and I
went up through Independence and on home.
On Monday, the second day after, D. C. Scott,
the railroad detective, sent for me to come to Crip-
ple Creek, and, as much as I dreaded going, I
thought it best to go and play innocent and put on
a bold front. So I braced up the best I could and
went over, and Scott said K. C. Sterling, the mine
owners' detective, wanted to see me. Mr. Sterling
came down to Scott's office, and I talked to him an
hour or so, and he wanted to know if I knew any-
thing about the Vindicator explosion, or if I mis-
trusted any one. I told him I did not know a thing
about it, and that I did not mistrust any one. I fur-
ther said that I thought it must be an accident.
Sterling wanted me to tell him who told me about
the attempt to wreck the train, but I told him I
would not.
They kept sending for me every little while after
the Vindicator explosion, and I wished many times
I had never said anything to them. But I knew I
had to play the string through now, and I always
went over when they sent for me. Mr. Scott had
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
given me $20 in money, and wanted me to go to
work for them and they would pay me $100 a month.
I told them I was a union man at heart, and did not
like to double-cross those men, and I did not believe
they were responsible for this Vindicator outrage. But
I said I would tell them anything of importance I
found out on the quiet. Of course, I never intended
to tell them the truth.
There was a lot of wrangling about these men
they had arrested. The militia held some of them,
and some were in the county jail. Those that the
militia held had no charges placed against them,
and the civil courts would issue writs of habeas cor-
pus, and the militia would take them into court, and
when they were released would hold them; but,
finally, they were all released but six of them
Parker, Davis, and Kennison, the members of the
strike committee, and Steve Adams, Foster, and Mc-
Kinney.
I kept pretty quiet all this time, but I was rather
uneasy, for it was reported that McKinney had made
a confession and had implicated Parker and others,
and, in fact, Scott told me he had. I knew McKin-
ney, but had never had anything to do with him,
but I was afraid Parker might have told him who
set the bomb in the Vindicator. I had tried to get
into jail to see Parker and Davis, but the sheriff
90
MY FIRST VISIT TO HEADQUARTERS
would not let me in, and I asked Mr. Scott if he
would arrange for me to get in and see the boys.
He asked me what I wanted to see them for, and I
told him I just wanted to say hello and give them
a bottle of whisky and some cigars. So he telephoned
up to the sheriff, and I went up, and he let me in ;
but I could not get a chance to ask Parker or Davis
anything about McKinney, because a guard was with
us all the time.
I found out from Scott that Easterly had been
to Denver and Pueblo, and that Frank Hangs, one
of the Federation attorneys, had been in and seen
McKinney and got him to make a statement. They
also had a detective in to see him, and Scott wanted
me to go to Denver with him and see Billy Easterly,
and find out, if I could, what they got out of Mc-
Kinney. This just suited me, as I thought Easterly
knew Moyer and Haywood, the president and secre-
tary of the Federation, and could get me some money
from them. Mr. Scott got me transportation, and
gave me some money to pay my expenses, and we
went to Denver the next afternoon. We were not
to be seen together, and we did not stop at the same
hotel.
I went up to the Federation headquarters the next
morning, and introduced myself, as I only knew
them by sight. They said they knew me by reputa-
91
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
tion, as Easterly had told them about me. I asked
tHem where Easterly was, and they told me he was
in Pueblo, but would be back in a day or two. They
wanted me to wait until he came back, and told me
if I wanted any money they would give me some. I
told them I had a little, and Moyer gave me $20.
We did not go into any details about what had hap-
pened in Cripple Creek, but only spoke of it in a
general way at that time.
I went and met Mr. Scott over at his hotel, and
reported to him that Easterly was in Pueblo, but
they expected him back in a day or so, and he said
we would wait for him. I forgot what I told him
they said to me ; I made up something and told him,
and I cannot remember a falsehood like I can the
truth. However, Mr. Scott had to go home before
Easterly came back, and he wanted me to stay until
he came, and I think he gave me some more money.
In all, I got not to exceed $40 from Scott, and I
never got any money at all from Sterling.
Easterly came in a day or two, and we were there
a few days longer together, and Moyer, Haywood,
Easterly, and myself discussed the strike and the
chances of the boys who were in jail. Haywood and
Moyer said that was a fine job we did at the Vin-
dicator. Haywood said we got two good ones, and
they were the kind to get, and said a few like them
MY FIRST VISIT TO HEADQUARTERS
and we would have everything our own way. He said
they would rather have one of the bosses than a
car-load of " scabs," for when you took away the
cause you had it all. They wanted me to stay in
Denver a few days and enjoy myself, and to go back
and tear something loose. They said we could not
get too fierce to suit them, and Haywood said he
would like to have some of the tin soldiers made an
example of, as none of them had been hurt. He said
we could get all the money we wanted if we would
keep up the night-work. They asked me how much
money I wanted, and said not to take too much, as
I could get more any time I needed it. I told them
I wanted $300 when I went home, and in a day or
so afterward Haywood gave me the $300, and I went
back. He told me to be careful and not to make any
show of the money. So I left them and returned to
the district.
I had never said anything to the men that went
with me at the Vindicator about getting any money,
or at least any amount. I think I told Billy Aikman,
the man that went down in the mine with me, that
we would make them put up a piece of money for
the job. When I got back I gave him $50, and in a
few days I gave him $25 more, and in all I think
I gave him $100 or more. I did not tell him how
much I got or where I got it. I used to give Billy
93
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
Gaffney, the fellow we left at the mouth of the shaft,
a dollar or two once in a while. I was afraid to give
him any money to speak of, as he was drunk all the
time when he had the price. He did not know I got
any money at all. I gave most of this money to my
wife to keep.
After I got back from Denver I went over to
Cripple Creek and saw Mr. Scott, and told him I
could not get much out of Easterly. I told him
Easterly told me about seeing Mrs. McKinney at
Pueblo, and some other stuff I made up. I have for-
gotten just what I did tell him, but I did not tell
him the truth, and after that he did not bother me
much more. The fact was, Easterly was sent down
to see McKinney and his wife, to brace him up and
get him to go back on his confession.
I did not try to do anything for a while. Then,
some time in January, I got some roofing-pitch and
melted it, and took a dozen sticks of giant-powder,
and tied them up in some burlap, and wound them
tight with twine, and put them in a bucket, and ran
this melted pitch around it, and let it get cold, and
hacked it up a little, so it looked like a chunk of
coal. I made a black-powder fuse and filled it full
of giant-caps and bored a hole into the powder, and
put this fuse in it and sealed it over so it would not
be noticed. I made a couple of these Owney Barnes
94
MY FIRST VISIT TO HEADQUARTERS
helped me do this and I got a man to throw one
of them into the coal-bunkers of the Vindicator mine.
This was an old man named Dempsey. He was an
old-timer, and the soldiers did not pay any attention
to him, but let him go in and out as he pleased. But
Billy Aikman said he was all right; he was a thor-
oughbred; and that he was one of the men that
shot the deputies in 1894. So Billy Aikman gave him
one of these bombs, and he promised to throw it into
the coal-bunkers. I don't know personally what he did
do, except he called me up later that night over the
telephone, when I was in Aikman's saloon, and said
he had delivered those goods. He was drunk at the
time, and I shut him off quick for fear he would get
to talking, and I felt sore at Aikman for getting
that sort of a man to do the job.
A short time after this all the men in the jail were
released on bail of from $15,000 to $20,000 each,
and we dared not do anything then on their account.
I should say all but McKinney ; he was not released
then.
Foster, Parker, and Davis went on trial together.
Davis was released soon after the opening for lack
of sufficient evidence, but Parker's and Foster's trials
went on jointly. Foster was charged with the first
attempt to wreck the train near Anaconda. McKin-
ney was a witness against them, he having turned
95
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
state's evidence, and he swore that he and Foster
had been hired by Parker to wreck the train, and
they had made the attempt, but failed on account
of breaking their tools. The prosecution had these
tools, as McKinney and his wife had told them where
they had been thrown, down an old shaft and into
an outhouse at Foster's home.
The defense that they put up was an alibi. I don't
know how many people I think a dozen or so
swore Foster was in a saloon in Altman all the night
in question, and that he was carried home drunk
about seven or eight o'clock in the morning. Now,
there is no doubt Foster was drunk this morning
we speak of, and some of his friends had to help
him home from this saloon; but there is no doubt,
either, that he wasn't in the saloon all night, but
came in there after they had tried to wreck the train,
and they made up a fake alibi for him. I know this
because I helped to make it. While I was not a wit-
ness myself, I helped to get the witnesses, and we
would take them up to Frank Hangs's office in Crip-
ple Creek. He and Mr. Hawkins were Parker's and
Foster's attorneys. These witnesses were told what
they were wanted to swear to before we took them
up there, and Mr. Hangs and Mr. Hawkins went
over their testimony. There were women that were
told what to swear to.
96
MY FIRST VISIT TO HEADQUARTERS
That alibi was made out of whole cloth, and they
made it stick, as they usually have for twelve or fif-
teen years. I was to be a witness once in a case
of this kind, but I didn't have to, because the case
was dismissed against the man. I have often heard
the union leaders laugh and tell how easy it was to
get out of such things, and, as the judges in these
camps are usually elected by the miners, they favor
them all they can, and it is seldom that a man
charged with an offense connected with the union
such as beating up a man or even murder is ever
convicted. I have often talked with Haywood about
these things, and he has told me the more they ar-
rested the union leaders as long as they could clear
them in the courts the better it suited them, as
this would make the public and the rank and file of
the unions believe it was persecution. And the system
was to get men to swear to whatever best fitted the
case.
Now, after they had failed to wreck the train
and Foster got drunk, McKinney reported this to
Parker, and Parker suggested another man to help
him, or McKinney did I have forgotten which.
Anyway, this was a man called Beckman, who was
really a detective in the employ of the mine opera-
tors, and he had been in the " bull-pen " with Parker,
McKinney, and others when they were first thrown
97
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
in there. This man Beckman was a German, and
had joined the Federation at Murray, Utah, and had
his card, and after coming to Cripple Creek he went
into the Victor union. Parker called him a fool
Dutchman, but he had the wool pulled over their
eyes all right, and they thought he was an anarchist.
I guess he proposed some of these outrages to them ;
anyway, he got into their confidence, and his wife
belonged to the ladies' auxiliary. So McKinney and
Beckman made it up to make the second attempt,
and I know Parker got McKinney a spike-puller and
wrench, because he told me so after the trial.
McKinney told his story at the trial, and Beck-
man told all his connection with the thing, and
also some things Parker had told him and sug-
gested to him, and also of Parker's giving him
money to leave the district just after this, and prom-
ising him more. But McKinney had sworn to two
statements, the one just the opposite to the other.
When he was first arrested, they took him to Canon
City and kept him at the penitentiary awhile, and
then took him to Pueblo and kept him in jail there.
During this time they did not let any one see him,
and he made a confession to Scott and Sterling, and
told them all, and connected Parker, Foster, and
Beckman. But afterward Frank Hangs and a de-
tective in the employ of James Burns, manager of
98
MY FIRST VISIT TO HEADQUARTERS
the Portland mine, got into jail to see McKinney,
and induced him to deny what he had told Scott and
Sterling, and Hangs dictated another statement re-
futing the former confession, and he swore to that
also. The reason they took Mr. Burns's detective in
was that Mr. Burns had the only big mine that was
open to union men, and the Federation leaders had
to convince Mr. Burns that McKinney was lying
and that the union did not try to wreck the train.
When the trials came up, McKinney swore on the
witness-stand that his first confession was right, and
that the statement Hangs had dictated and he had
sworn to was false.
But I have told you the methods used, and that
both men and women swore that black was white
and white was black, and the lawyers for the defense
made it seem plain that it was a detective's job from
start to finish*. They killed McKinney's evidence to
a certain extent by his having sworn to two state-
ments, and they brought such strong evidence that
Foster had not been connected with the first attempt,
and the last one looked so much like a detective's
job, that the jury was out only about twenty min-
utes, and brought in a verdict of not guilty, and all
the men that had charges against them were dis-
missed.
I used to go in every day and listen to this trial,
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
and Mr. Moyer was there, too, and I got to know
him a good deal better, and I learned more about
the way he felt about the strike. Now, there are a
great many people who will claim that Moyer and
Hay wood just started this strike so they could get
to handle a lot of money and take out some of it
for themselves, and that they stirred up all this
trouble to do that. But I do not think so myself. I
know that both Moyer and Haywood were talking
to the rank and file of the union to be quiet and not
commit any outrages when the strike began, and I
know Haywood was mad at that time because Ed
Minster and " Slim " Campbell got loose and beat
up Hawkins and Stewart, and gave the mine owners
a chance to call in the militia. And it is only reason-
able to believe this, because the mine owners wanted
to get in the militia. They couldn't get non-union
men to come in and work for them any other way,
for if the militia did not come in, all the union men
had to do was to sit there and wait, because not
many of the non-union men would dare to go to
work in the mines while they were there for it was
known all over the United States what the unions
would do to " scabs " in these mining-camps. But
after the militia came in the non-union men got to
work, and then the only way to get them out of
the district was to commit secret outrages; and as
100
MY FIRST VISIT TO HEADQUARTERS
time went on and the strike kept going against them,
they kept growing stronger and stronger, until they
didn't care whom they killed.
Mr. Moyer was a good deal worried during the
McKinney trial, and particularly once when Mc-
Kinney was giving his testimony, and told about
Parker telling him about a fluid that would burn
like fire when thrown upon or against anybody or
anything. Mr. Moyer said he expected every minute
to hear his name brought into it then, but for some
reason the lawyers for the prosecution did not ask
McKinney anything about this ; and, of course, we
told our lawyers not to ask anything, and it was
only referred to slightly in the direct examination.
But Moyer was very much provoked at Parker for
talking and telling so much to people he did not
know, and said he did not know but we ought to
put him out of the way. I had asked Parker before
if he had told McKinney anything about my being
connected with the Vindicator explosion. He said he
had not, and I was pretty sure he had not, as Scott
and Sterling had told me before they knew nothing
about who caused it.
Now, I did not want to do any of this busi-
ness with Davis and Parker, myself, after this. And
I knew, besides, that they used to hire men to com-
mit these outrages, and keep about half the money
101
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
they collected from headquarters and not give it
over to the men that did the job. Steve Adams has
told me since they did this with him. So I told Mr.
Moyer that whatever I did after this would be with
him and Haywood, and he said he would not have
anything more to do with Parker in that line himself.
So after that I did business with headquarters direct.
Moyer had given me $150 while he was at Cripple
Creek.
Some little time before this trial there had been
a convention called to meet in Denver by the State
Federation of Labor. They sent out a call to every
branch of the labor-unions. The real object of this
was a political move, although it was not so stated
at the time. I was elected one of the delegates from
the Altman union to this convention, and I think
nearly every branch of labor in the State was repre-
sented. We met in Denver and talked over our griev-
ances, especially those of the Western Federation
of Miners and the United Mine Workers, the latter
being coal-miners, who were also on strike. The two
miners' organizations were by far the largest, and
they reminded the other organizations very forcibly
that it was their interest to support the miners. But
the real object of the convention was to raise money
for a campaign fund, and to support the strikers,
and form organizations all over the State to take
102
MY FIRST VISIT TO HEADQUARTERS
in every branch of labor, and levy assessments on
the members, so much a week or month, and get
so well organized that we would be strong enough
to say to one of the political parties, " If you don't
recognize us and let us name the head of the ticket,
we will run an independent ticket."
I was elected on the Ways and Means Committee,
and there were men chosen to organize these clubs
in every town and district in the State. We were
requested to attend a meeting one night during this
convention over at Western Federation headquar-
ters. Mostly all that were there were Western Fed-
eration men, I think about twenty. It was discussed
there which would be the best policy, to try to unite
with one of the old political parties or run an inde-
pendent ticket. The Repubh'can Party seemed im-
possible and the Democratic was the only possible
party. Some thought the latter would give us recog-
nition if we got well organized, and others thought
we could elect an independent labor ticket. Mr. Hay-
wood said he did not think it would be advisable to
run an independent ticket, but that it would be bet-
ter to fuse with the Democratic Party. John M.
O'Neill, the editor of the Miners' Magazine, thought
the same, and said if we ran an independent ticket it
would be sure to elect Governor Peabody again. Mr.
Moyer said if we did not run an independent ticket
103
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
he would vote the Socialist ticket, as he did not be-
lieve there was much difference between the Demo-
cratic and Republican parties, as they were both
against organized labor. But there was not any talk
to speak of for the support of the Socialist ticket.
The meeting was pretty evenly divided when a vote
was taken, and we thought the best thing to do was
to go ahead and get organized, and not let it be
known at present that this was purely a political
move, or at least not give it out in the convention
this way, as many would object to the assessment
if they knew it was going to be used for a political
purpose. The convention broke up harmonious, and
all these committees went to work, and most of the
unions levied an assessment on their members of from
twenty-five cents to a dollar a month.
After the meeting we had at the Western Federa-
tion headquarters, during this convention, I met
George A. Pettibone. This was the first time I had
met him to know him, although I knew of him. I
talked freely to him and he did to me, and he told
me about the Grecian fire Moyer told me about, and
some other things, and wanted me to come over to
his store the next day, and said he would show me
something that would beat a revolver for setting
off a bomb. Moyer said yes, I had better go over
and see the " devil," as he called him. He used to call
104
MY FIRST VISIT TO HEADQUARTERS
Pettibone this because he was always making ex-
periments with chemicals, and Moyer said he was
never so happy as when he was doing something of
that kind.
So I went over, and Pettibone showed me how to
mix chloride of potash and sugar together, and set
it on fire with sulphuric acid, and this would set
off giant-caps. He also told me about this " hell-
fire," as he called it. This is made up of the follow-
ing mixture : Stick phosphorus, bisulphid of carbon,
benzine, alcohol, and spirits of turpentine. After
this is mixed together properly, when thrown on
anything with force so as to break the bottle, it
will immediately be a flame of fire. I don't think
they knew about this very long before this time, and
Haywood told me they got the receipt out of a little
book he had that was gotten out by an Irish chemist
who was an anarchist. You can mix this so that it
will be a longer or shorter time in taking fire.
This " hell-fire " has to be handled with care when
being mixed. If it gets on your clothes or hands
it will burn, and it seems to go right through cloth.
Pettibone told me about getting it on his shoes, and
when he began to scrub them on the floor of his
cellar it started to burn all over. He told about how
Marion Moor, who was on the executive board, went
out on the prairie with him to learn how to mix it,
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CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
and got some of it on his coat. They soaked the
coat in water and thought that would put it out,
but when it got dry a little it began to burn again,
and they had to soak it in water again, and even then
it began to smoke before they got it home.
Mr. Moyer told me while I was in Denver this
time that things had been pretty quiet for a while,
and that we had got to get busy up in the district
and tear something loose, as there was no money
coming in to the Federation. I asked him if that
made any difference, and he said it did, and that
as soon as things got quiet up there the money be-
gan to drop off, and as soon as something was pulled
off so they got some advertising, the money picked
up again. And he said they had to have money to
carry on the strike. I have thought that many of
these horrible depredations were committed for that
purpose, as well as to terrorize the mine owners and
non-union men and make them afraid of their lives.
I do not mean that Moyer and Haywood figured
this out before the strike, but that it grew on them
and they found it out while the strike was going on.
They wanted me to take a lot of this " hell-fire "
up to the Cripple Creek district with me, and throw
it through the car-windows at night when they were
full of non-union men, and throw it down the shafts
and set them on fire. So Pettibone got me enough
106
MY FIRST VISIT TO HEADQUARTERS
material to mix several gallons of it, and I took it
home with me. He would not buy this all together,
but sent different men to buy it, for fear the people
would mistrust and wonder what he was going to
do with it, as a chemist would be likely to know what
this would do when mixed. You have to have bottles
with glass stoppers to keep it in, as it would burn
cork. I took this home with me, and Pettibone came
up in a day or so to show me how to mix it. We did
not mix any, but he told me how, and we hunted up
Steve Adams, and he said he knew how to mix it.
I took the materials out and buried them back of my
house, as they smelled very bad in the house.
Haywood gave me $110 this time when I came away
from Denver. I gave Billy Aikman $50 of this. But
before I used any of this " hell-fire," Moyer came
up to the district and told me I had better not
use any of it, as they might have an idea where it
came from and what it was by what McKinney had
said, and so I did not try to use it.
I went to work and appointed committees in my
part of the district, and started to organize these
labor political clubs, and we got them pretty well
organized. About this time, or a little before, the
militia got busy and issued an order for every one
that had firearms to turn them over to the militia
officers, and they would give a receipt for the same
107
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
and return them after the strike was over. I don't
know how many were turned over. They published
in the papers that there was a great number, but
I think this was only a bluff. I never heard of any
one that gave up his firearms, but they began to
search houses again for them, and this made people
very indignant.
There were a good many of the old miners in the
district then, and we all were feeling pretty ugly.
After the union miners had been deported from Tel-
luride we organized in Cripple Creek, and especially
on Bull Hill, and planned so we wouldn't be taken
by surprise. We were going to blow a whistle on
one of the mines for a signal, so we would not be
taken by surprise. We were well armed, and the
unions had quite a number of rifles shipped in. The
Altman union got about forty rifles up from the
Telluride union at the beginning of the strike, and
a lot more from Denver. In all there must have been
not less than a hundred of these anyway, mostly
thirty-thirty and thirty-forty Winchesters. They
distributed these arms among the men who didn't
have any of their own. I know I got a rifle and a
six-shooter. And there was a password, where you
would say " Gold," and the answer would be " Field."
And if they had tried to run the union men out at
that time, there would have been more trouble than
108
MY FIRST VISIT TO HEADQUARTERS
there was when they did run them out. This was not
until some months after, and at a time when most
of the union leaders were out of the district attend-
ing the Federation convention at Denver.
Mojer was in Victor about this time, and the
militia made an attempt to arrest him, but he was
secreted away at night. I did not attempt to do any-
thing, as I did not want anything to do with Parker,
and he said if we did anything and did not tell him
there would be trouble.
109
CHAPTER NINE
HOW WE TRIED TO ASSASSINATE GOVERNOR PEABODY
ABOUT this time a mob and the militia ran
some more of the union men out of Telluride,
Col., in the night, and forbade them to re-
turn on pain of death. Moyer sent for me to come
to Denver, so I got ready and went. I met Moyer,
Haywood, and Pettibone at Federation headquar-
ters, and they wanted me to go down to the San
Juan district with Moyer. They had two pump
shot-guns, sawed off so they would go in our grips
when they were taken down, and plenty of shells
loaded with buck-shot. The reason for this was some
one had told Moyer or sent him word if they caught
him they would use him as they had the United
Mine Workers' officers. Some of the latter had been
taken off a train and beaten up and nearly killed.
They laid this to the deputies the mine operators
had employed.
The next night Moyer and I started for Mon-
trose, where they had sent John Murphy, the Fed-
eration attorney, to get an injunction from Judge
110
WE TRIED TO ASSASSINATE PEABODY
Stevens against the militia and citizens of Telluride
to compel them to let the union miners return to
their homes peaceably and not to interfere with
them. We had three six-shooters, and two shot-guns
in our grips, which we left unfastened in the seats
in front of us, and we sat near the middle of the
car ; but no one troubled us. We arrived at Montrose
and met Mr. Murphy, and he had the injunction
all ready. We went on to Ouray, where most of the
men were that had been deported, and the next day
Moyer sent a telegram to Governor Peabody in-
forming him of the injunction, and wanted to know
if these men would have the protection of the militia
if they returned peaceably to their homes, and he
got an answer that all law-abiding citizens would
be protected. Moyer said when he sent his telegram
to the governor, that he had promised himself that
he would never ask him for anything again, and he
hated to do it, but this would be the last time. Moyer
sent a few men back on the train the next morning,
but they were met at a station some distance from
Telluride, and forced off the train by militia and
armed men, and threatened with death if they at-
tempted to come into town. Sherman Bell, the ad-
jutant-general, had arrived in Telluride, and martial
law was declared, and Bell disregarded the order of
the court in regard to the injunction.
Ill
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
After these men were sent back from Telluride,
Mr. Moyer was angrier than ever, and he began to
advise the men that they could not expect any pro-
tection from the State, and the only way was to take
the law in their own hands, and go back to Telluride
in a body and clean out the town. There were some
methods discussed as to the best way to proceed.
The first thing that we thought necessary was to
get concentrated at the most convenient place, and
get what arms and ammunition and other material
we would need. We also spoke of filling beer-kegs
with dynamite, and attaching a time-fuse, and roll-
ing them down the mountainside into Telluride, as
the town was in a canon with high mountains on
either side. Another plan spoken of by Mbyer was
to poison the reservoir where they got their water
for Telluride with cyanide of potassium. This is
easy to get around the mills where they use the
cyanide process, and of course it is deadly poison
and kills any one taking the least particle of it in-
stantly. But Moyer only started to carry out the
first of these plans when he was arrested.
After Bell disregarded the injunction, Moyer sent
over to Silverton, which is thirty miles from Ouray,
for Frank Schmelzer, the president of the San Juan
district union. He wanted to confer with him about
what to do with these men who were deported, as
112
WE TRIED TO ASSASSINATE PEABODY
there were about a hundred of them stopping at
the hotel at Ouray, and paying about $1 a day
there, and he said the Federation could not afford
that. Mr. Schmelzer came over the next day, and
they talked the situation over. There were some more
of these deported men over at Silverton. The final
outcome of the conference was that they decided to
lease one or more of the idle mines up at Red Moun-
tain. This is about half-way between Ouray and Sil-
verton on the divide, and not far from Telluride,
I think less than twenty miles. Another man came
down from Red Mountain with Schmelzer; his name
was Tom Taylor. He had a partner at Red Moun-
tain, and he said there were some large boarding-
and lodging-houses there, and he thought there
would be no trouble in renting them, as almost every-
thing was silver mines around there and they were
closed down on account of the low price of silver.
The object of getting this out-of-the-way place was
to have some place to concentrate the men and keep
them together, and this place was just where they
wanted them, and the lease was all a bluff. The real
object was to send these men up there and arm them
all, get a car or two of provisions, and send all the
outlaws they could get hold of up there, too.
They were going to try to get Vincent St. John
to go up there and drill these men and be their
113
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
leader, as they all knew him, and it was said they
would do anything he told them or follow him any
place. These men were mostly all foreigners Aus-
trians, Finns, and Italians. They thought if they
could get enough men up here in this out-of-the-
way place, and have them well armed, and keep them
there until the snow got settled in the spring so
they could walk on it, some night they could march
them over the hill to Telluride and clean out the
town. This was the plan, but it was not told except
to a very few, and they were well satisfied with it.
If we had had another day these arrangements would
have been finished, and perhaps we would have been
away from there.
But the morning that we might have finished up
and left later in the day, before we got up, the
sheriff rapped at the door and wanted to see Moyer.
I was sleeping with Moyer, and we got up and
dressed, and when we went out the sheriff arrested
him. He said they had wired him from Telluride to
hold Moyer, and that the sheriff from San Miguel
County was on his way with a warrant. Moyer wired
his attorneys at Denver and wanted to know if the
sheriff at Ouray had any right to hold him without
a warrant. I think they told him he had; anyway,
he did hold him, and about noon the sheriff and
two deputies arrived and took him to Telluride.
WE TRIED TO ASSASSINATE PEABODY
Moyer had given me some papers and his six-shooter
before the sheriff from Telluride arrived, and ths
Ouray sheriff did not search him or lock him up,
but let him stay in his office. The charge they ar~
rested him on was desecration of the American flag.
The Federation had sent out by the thousands
posters imitating the American flag, with advertis-
ing on them. They only arrested Moyer on this as
an excuse. They took him to Telluride, and he was
released on bail, but the militia rearrested him right
away.
I left Ouray that night and went to Silverton with
Schmelzer to escape arrest, and Moyer telephoned
me from Telluride in a day or so, and wanted me to
fetch his things and meet him at Durango, but be-
fore we got through talking they cut us off. He was
telephoning me just after he was let out on bonds,
and while he was talking they cut off the connection,
and the militia arrested him right afterward and
held him for over three months. That was the last
I saw of him for nearly a year.
I stayed at Silverton a few days, and then went
back to Denver and reported to Haywood. The
lawyers from Denver had gone to Telluride in the
mean time, but they could not get Moyer out, as the
militia held him under military necessity. A few days
after he was arrested, Sheriff Rutan of Telluride
115
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
came to Denver to arrest Haywood on the same
charge, but Haywood blocked his plans by getting
a friend in Denver to swear out a warrant on the
same charge, and a justice in Denver that was
friendly to him put him in the custody of the deputy
sheriff, who stayed with him all the time ; and he had
his case continued from time to time.
Pettibone and Haywood decided we ought to teach
them a lesson for sending Rutan up there, and Pet-
tibone and I were laying for Rutan the evening he
went to take the train in Denver for home. We
waited in an alley off Seventeenth Street, just before
you got to the depot, and Pettibone was going to
hit him with some brass knuckles, and we were going
to drag him into the alley and finish him. But he had
seven men with him on his way to the depot, and we
couldn't get him.
Haywood and Pettibone were pretty warm under
the collar about this time. They said they could not
get any justice in the courts, that Peabody was hold-
ing Moyer down there under martial kw, and that
he had no right to, and the only way they knew of
to get any justice was to take the law into their
own hands and put Peabody out of business. So they
decided then they wanted me to get away with the
governor. Pettibone told me where he lived, and they
wanted me to take a look around his residence and
116
WE TRIED TO ASSASSINATE PEABODY
see what the chances would be to get away with him.
I took a look around there, and told him I thought
a man could lay alongside a stone fence in a vacant
lot that was on one side of his house, and shoot him
with buck-shot when he came home at night. I went
and sat around the capitol building and read until
I saw him, so I would know him and learn his habits,
and I told Haywood I thought he could be gotten
all right, but that I ought to have some one to help
me. It is better to have two men on a job of this
kind, so that one can watch, and of course two men
could hold up the police better than one, if you had
to. Besides, you get half crazy thinking of a job
of this kind, when one man is alone.
Haywood said Steve Adams was the best man he
knew of to go in a job of that kind, only he said
he was so well known. But we thought if he came
down there in the city, and did not go around in
the daytime much, he might not be known. So I left
there and went back to Cripple Creek, where Steve
lived. I had never had anything to do with him at
this time, and was only slightly acquainted with him.
I went and saw him, and told him what they wanted,
and he said he was ready for any old thing.
I made arrangements with Adams to come to Den-
ver in a few days, and I went right back to Denver,
and told Haywood and Pettibone that Adams would
117
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
be there soon. I kept a watch around the governor's
place, and learned all I could about his habits, and
learned he usually came home in a hack quite late
at night. Adams came down to Denver in a few days,
and Haywood gave him money to get some new
clothes and fix himself up some, and we got rooms
out of the main part of the city a little, and each
got a sawed-off shot-gun from Pettibone, and kept a
lookout for the governor. We had a place fixed in
Pettibone's lot back of the house to hide our shot-
guns after we had shot the governor, if we got a
chance, as Pettibone lived only a short distance from
the governor and there was a dark street we could
take part of the way to get there, and Pettibone
was to take the guns and clean them up and put
them away.
We worked on this for some time, and never hap-
pened to catch the governor coming home at night,
and we conceived the idea of planting a bomb under
the edge of the sidewalk, and stretching a fine wire
across some vacant lots that were there, and hiding
it in the grass, and setting it off by pulling the cork
out of a bottle filled with acid. When the acid
touched the giant-caps it would explode the bomb.
We expected to pull this wire when Governor Pea-
body came along there in the morning on his way
to the State-house. It was his habit to walk from his
118
JAMES H. PEABODY
Ex-Governor of Colorado, whom Orchard repeatedly attempted to
assassinate.
WE TRIED TO ASSASSINATE PEABODY
residence to the State-house every morning between
nine and ten o'clock. Adams went up to a little min-
ing-camp not far from Denver to a friend he knew,
and that knew about some of these outrages, and
got about fifty pounds of powder and brought it
back in a grip. He took it over to Pettibone's store,
made a box and put the powder into it, and fixed a
lid so we could bury it and leave a wire out of the
ground a little, so we could attach another wire
to it.
About the time we got this ready, and were going
to bury it under the sidewalk some dark night, the
executive board of the Western Federation of Min-
ers met to make arrangements for the annual con-
vention. It was now some time in May. The board
were gathered in Denver and were going over the
books, as the custom is, just before the convention,
and Haywood stopped us from using a bomb at this
time, as he thought it might be laid to some of the
executive board.
We had seen Mr. Peabody coming home late at
night in a hack, and one night we had our pump
shot-guns all ready, and waited across the street
opposite in a yard under some trees, and when we
saw his carriage coming, we got out on the street,
and as the carriage slowed up we followed up behind
it, and were only about thirty or forty feet behind
119
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
it when they got out. We had our guns leveled at
them to shoot as soon as we saw the governor. We
had watched so we could tell him, and it was also
quite light there. But there were only three women
got out, and the carriage began to turn round, and
we put our guns down quick and got on the side-
walk and started down the street. The carriage
driver let his horses walk and kept looking at us,
and the women kept watching us too, and stood on
the porch as far as we could see them. We took the
first cross street and got out of sight as quickly as
possible. We noticed the next day in the papers that
the governor had gone out to Fort Logan with
some military men and did not return till the next
day.
However, Haywood said he had been studying
up, and had come to the conclusion that Dave Moffat
was behind the whole thing, and that Governor Pea-
body was often closeted with him in Moffat's private
office, and he said Mr. Moffat had been mixed up
in the Leadville strike some years ago, and he wanted
us to leave off Peabody and see if we could not get
Moffat. We went to watching Mr. Moffat's habits,
but we could not get much track of him. We knew
where his residence was, but we could never see him
coming or going from it, and we worked along on
this for some time without ever being able to see
120
WE TRIED TO ASSASSINATE PEABODY
Mr. Moffat around his house. Haywood would tell
us when he was in the city, as he did his banking
at Mr. Moffat's bank, and was there every day, and
while he said he hardly ever saw Mr. Moffat, he
could always tell when he was there, as he always
kept a guard at the door of his private office. Hay-
wood furnished us with money all this time.
121
CHAPTER TEN
THE SHOOTING OP LYTE GREGORY BEFORE THE
CONVENTION
THE executive board had met and were having
a pretty stormy time, and James Murphy
from Butte would not sign the emergency bill
that is, for the expenditures out of the emergency
fund. During one of their sessions it was reported
by Foster Milburn, a Federation man from Idaho
Springs, that Lyte Gregory who had been a de-
tective in the Idaho Springs labor troubles, and
had been a deputy and a leader of the deputies in
a strike down in the Southern coal-fields, several
depredations being laid at his door was in the city,
and that Milburn met him the morning he arrived
in Denver. Milburn told Pettibone about him, and
Pettibone went over to the Federation headquarters,
where the executive board was in session, and told
them about Gregory, and they said there ought to
be something done with him. That afternoon Petti-
bone saw Adams, and wanted him to go out with
him that night, and take Gregory and mutilate him,
THE SHOOTING OF LYTE GREGORY
as they claimed he had helped do that to an old man
down in the coal-fields. And a little later they saw
me and told me about it, and wanted to know if I
would go along, and we fixed up to go.
We three Pettibone, Adams, and myself all
went over on Curtis Street, where Gregory, Milburn,
and another man were in the back part of a saloon
talking, and we went in and got a drink, and saw
them, so we would know them. Then we came out
and stood across the street in front of the St. James
Hotel, where we could see them when they came out.
Milburn understood what we were going to do, and
stayed with them to find out where they were going,
and while we stood there watching for them, Petti-
bone made an excuse to go some place, and said he
would be back in a few minutes. But while he was
gone they all three came out, and Gregory and this
other man took a street-car. Adams and I took the
same car, and followed them when they got off. They
went down to a saloon on Santa Fe, near Tenth
Street South, and Milburn came out on the next
car. He had been up to see some men in the Granite
Block, where a good many men we knew were, so
he could establish an alibi. The man that came with
Gregory was also from Idaho Springs, and ran a
poker game in the saloon they went to. After Mil-
burn came he told us all about this. Gregory and
123
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
some others sat down in the main saloon and went
to playing cards, and we thought we would give up
our former plan and kill him outright.
It was now about ten o'clock at night. I went
out to our room two or three miles away, and left
the rest watching him. We were going to shoot him
through the window of the saloon as he sat at the
table. I got a sawed-off shot-gun, and brought it
back in pieces under my coat. But when I got back
with the gun, they had moved into a little room in
the back part of the saloon, and we could not see
them, though we could hear them from the street
through a window. But this window had the blinds
so closely drawn that we could not see them. I went
in once and bought a bottle of beer, to see if I could
see where they were, but the door was closed, and I
could see nothing, and we concluded to wait until
Gregory came out.
A little after twelve o'clock he came out and
started up the street alone, and we three followed
him. We had to cross the street to get on the same
side he was on. In doing this we ran into some wires
stretched on the outside of the sidewalk to protect
the lawns, and when we stumbled into these we at-
tracted his attention, and he started to reach for
his gun and back up toward the fence. When he did
this, I shot him three times in quick succession be-
THE SHOOTING OF LYTE GREGORY
fore he fell, and then ran down the alley, as we were
just opposite it. We separated as soon as we got
out of the alley. I discharged another shell acciden-
tally, before we got out of the alley, in taking the
shells out of the gun. All the shooting, including
this, took place within a minute or so, and we saw
no one and no one seemed to be following us.
I took the gun down and put it under my coat,
and we made our way to Pettibone's house that is,
Adams and I. Milburn went by himself. We left the
shot-gun at Pettibone's in the place that had been
previously arranged while we were working on the
governor, and we went on to our room on Downing
Avenue. Adams and I put some turpentine on our
shoes, so they couldn't follow us with dogs. They
did try to follow us the next day with some blood-
hounds they got from Pueblo, but they went just
the opposite direction from the way we went.
The next morning the papers had the account of
the murder in them. We did not go down-town until
the afternoon, and then went to the Granite Block
to Jack Simpkins's and Kirwan's room, they both
being members of the executive board. This was
Sunday and the board was not in session. Haywood
and Pettibone came up there a little while later, and
Haywood, Pettibone, Simpkins, Adams, and myself
talked over the murder, and they told us that we
125
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
did a fine job. Hay wood said he had run across Arm-
strong, the sheriff and chief of police in Denver,
and he said Armstrong said that whoever " bumped
off " Gregory had done a good job, and that his men
would not look very much for any one. Haywood
said the detectives had had Milburn over and had
questioned him, but did not arrest him, though they
told him they wanted to see him again. He said Mil-
burn was a cool, level-headed fellow, and that he had
given an account of where he went after leaving
Gregory at the saloon on Curtis Street, and they
had gone and seen these parties that he was with,
and they had told the same story. I don't know, but
I think this had been previously arranged. They had
Milburn up a time or two afterward and questioned
him, but did not arrest him. There was a lot of news-
paper talk about this, but that was all; there was
never any one arrested for it.
Haywood told me some time afterward that some
of the members of the executive board were up at
the office the next morning after this happened, and
Simpkins took the paper with an account of this
murder in and handed it to Murphy, and that Mur-
phy looked at the head-lines, and put the paper
behind him and would not read it. I don't know
whether it was before or after this but I think it
was after that they handed Murphy the emergency
126
THE SHOOTING OF LYTE GREGORY
bill and told him to sign his name the first one. I
think at first he refused, and Haywood told him that
he (Murphy) would sign it, and say that he liked it.
This was the bill that Murphy had refused to sign,
but Haywood told me that he signed it and they had
no more trouble with him; Haywood said if he had
not signed it he would not have left the room alive,
and he said he guessed he thought of Gregory.
A short time after this Adams got on a drunk,
and some of his friends sent him back to Cripple
Creek. Then the annual Federation convention met.
I attended this most of the time, and they had a
pretty stormy session. Many of the delegates were
dissatisfied with the strikes that had been called and
the large amount of money that had been spent
nearly half a million dollars and they were talking
of electing new officers. James Murphy, the repre-
sentative on the executive board from Butte, had
been down to Telluride and had seen Moyer in the
" bull-pen " there, and it was said that Moyer had
made some deal with Butte and was going to turn
Haywood down, and it was thought there was going
to be a split and some of the districts would with-
draw from the Federation.
Moyer always seemed to be jealous of Haywood,
and he had some reason to be, as Haywood always
seemed to run the office. And when Moyer was in
127
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
jail at Telluride their relations became more strained
than ever. Moyer used to send what letters or other
business he had connected with the Federation to his
wife, and had her get Copley of the executive board
to attend to them. This made Haywood pretty
angry. It was also reported that Moyer had shown
the military officers at Telluride great respect. This
also made Haywood angry, and when Murphy went
down to see Moyer, Haywood and Pettibone thought
there was some job being worked up by Moyer and
Murphy to oust Haywood ; and Pettibone and Hay-
wood thought Moyer was weakening, and we talked
of putting him out of the way. After Moyer got out,
he explained that the reason he was so friendly to
the militia officers was that he was sick and thought
they would use him better. But he and Haywood
were not very good friends afterward. Moyer was
in jail over three months, and when he came back
to the office again after he was released from the
" bull-pen," Haywood and he just spoke to each
other, as if he had only been out a day.
128
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HOW WE BLEW UP THE INDEPENDENCE DEPOT DURING
THE CONVENTION
THEN W. F. Davis, Parker, and Pettibone
wanted me to go to Cripple Creek and pull
off something, and stir up the delegates, so
they would quit this quarreling, and be united, and
finish up their business and go home. The different
factions were having their little meetings nights.
During this wrangle Pettibone, Davis, and Parker
said I had better go to Cripple Creek and blow up
something, as that would not only unite the conven-
tion, but if it happened when all the union leaders
were out of the district, they would not know who
to lay it to. I told them it would not be much trouble
to blow up the Independence depot. We had talked
of this before. The idea was to get the night shifts
of non-union miners that got on the 2.30 train
there every morning. They said that would be all
right. Hay wood said he did not want me to get
mixed up in a job like that, and wanted me to get
some one else to do it, as he said he had some heavier
129
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
work for me to do. He said as I had never had my
name mixed up with the Federation, and they had
never suspected me, I could do this work better than
some one that had been written up in the papers in
connection with some of this work. I told him I would
not get mixed up; that I would get some one else
to do it, or I would set it off with an alarm-clock.
Pettibone was doorkeeper at the convention hall,
and Parker, Davis, Pettibone, and myself were talking
this over, and they wanted me to go up to the district
that afternoon. The convention had just assembled
after lunch, and Haywood came in while we were talk-
ing, and we asked him about it, and he said no doubt
it would be a good thing, and that anything went
with him. He gave me some money, and told me to be
sure and not get mixed up myself.
I bought an alarm-clock and went to Cripple Creek
that afternoon.
I went and asked Billy Aikman if he wanted to
help do a little job. He told me he did not see how
he could get away, as he had bought a half-interest in
a saloon at Independence and was tending bar nights,
and he thought he might be missed if he wasn't there.
I did not tell him what we were going to do. Then
I went and told Adams they wanted a little job done,
and he said all right, he was ready for any old thing,
or words to that effect. I told Billy Easterly what
130
WE BLOW UP INDEPENDENCE DEPOT
we were going to do, and he said all right, if we
wanted any help he would help us. I went and saw
Floyd Miller, where he was working on a lease, and
asked him if he would get me a hundred pounds of
powder and two boxes of giant-caps. He said he
would, and I gave him the money to get them.
I got Adams and went over that night after the
powder, where Miller said he would leave it, but it
was not there. Adams and I went over to see Miller
the next day, and Miller said they did not deliver
it, but that he had ordered it and thought it would be
up sure that day. We went over that night, and car-
ried it over to Independence, and hid it in an old
cellar in the back of a cabin that Adams had a key
to. I think this was on Thursday evening, and we
intended to use the powder on Saturday night.
A good while before this, Johnnie Neville and my-
self had planned to go out on a camping and hunting
trip, and as his saloon had not paid him since the
strike, he said he would close it up, and I said to
him that he had better burn it up. So he got the sa-
loon insured after this, and we took out some of the
liquor and buried it in a dump. So when I went to
Cripple Creek to get Steve Adams to go after Gov-
ernor Peabody, we set the saloon on fire. I took five
bottles of the Grecian fire and poured it round in the
upper rooms of the saloon, and shut the doors and
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CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
went away. I got these bottles in the dump by Eas-
terly's cabin. He told me where they were when I saw
him in Denver. The saloon was all in flames a short
time later, and no one could get near it, and it burned
up completely.
Now, after Adams and I had fixed up everything
to blow up the depot, I thought it would be a good
plan to go off with Johnnie Neville on this camping
trip. I figured it would be a good thing for me to go
away from there in the daytime with him, and then
come back at night on horseback and do the job; and
as Neville had a good reputation and was well thought
of, I took advantage of the saloon fire and thought
he dare not go back on me. Neville wanted to go with
me, and we looked around for a team and wagon, as
we intended to drive through the country. We bought
a team and wagon from Joe Adams, Steve's brother.
We got all ready and intended to leave on Saturday,
and I intended to come back on horseback Saturday
night and blow up the depot and ride back to where
we camped.
But Friday evening Billy Easterly came to my
house and told me Parker was up from Denver and
wanted to see me. I went down to Parker's house in
Independence, and he told me the convention had ap-
pointed a committee to come up and investigate the
strike, and to see the mine operators' representative
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and get both sides of the story. The Hay wood faction
did not want this committee appointed, and after it
was appointed Parker said they did not want them to
come up alone, and they decided to have him come
with them. I told them we were all ready, and intended
to finish the job Saturday night, but he wanted us to
wait until they got away. He said they would hang
him if anything like that happened when he was there,
but he said if it was going to make any particular
difference to go ahead, and he would take his chances,
and would rather like to catch this committee up there,
so they would get a touch of high life. I told him we
would wait until they left, so Parker and this com-
mittee went and had a conference with the secretary
of the mine operators, and the committee were favor-
able to some kind of a settlement.
Now, Haywood and the strike committee and some,
if not all, of the executive board did not want this
committee to make any settlement or interfere with
the strike, and Haywood said they had spent too much
money to let them settle with any one else, and that
when they wanted to settle they would have to come
to them. Malcolm Gillis from Butte was on this com-
mittee, one man from Wyoming, and one from British
Columbia. The Haywood faction were sore at Gillis,
and said he was chairman of the Republican State
Central Committee of Montana and stood in with
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CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
the mine operators. The fact was that Gillis was a
bright and, I think, reasonable man, and they were
afraid he would open the way for settlement, and they
would have no hand in it, and lose the glory.
After the conference with the secretary of the mine
operators, the committee made some further inquiry
about the district, and visited the union at Victor
Saturday evening, and left Sunday for Denver. Sun-
day evening, Neville and I and his little boy Charlie
left Independence with a team and wagon, and drove
down the road toward Colorado Springs a few miles
I think six or eight miles and camped for the
night. I told Neville I intended to go back and do
a little work that night. I told him I would make
some excuse before Charlie, and if anything happened
that I was ever mistrusted, I was supposed to be there
all night with them. I had gotten a saddle from Tom
Foster before I left, and had made arrangements with
Adams to meet me where we left the dynamite.
A little after dark, I saddled one of the horses and
rode back within a mile of the depot, and tied my horse
in some bushes, and walked the rest of the way to the
cabin, and found Adams already there. This was
about ten o'clock. He had a candle, and we stayed
in there about an hour, making a little wooden wind-
lass to set off the dynamite with. We fastened two
little vials on the cross-piece of this with a strip of
WE BLOW UP INDEPENDENCE DEPOT
leather, so when you pulled on the windlass these bot-
tles would turn over and spill sulphuric acid on the
giant-caps we had put in the powder.
About eleven o'clock, when 'most everybody around
there had gone to bed, we took the two fifty-pound
boxes of powder with us and went over to the depot.
This depot had been closed for some time, and they
kept no operator there, though the train stopped there
for people to get on and off. The depot was built
on a side-hill, with a long platform in front of it.
We walked under this platform, and I crawled under
where the plank came right close to the ground. I
dug away a little place in there, and buried the two
boxes of dynamite in the ground close up to the
planks, put in the giant-caps and set up the wind-
lass on one of the boxes, and filled the two little bot-
tles with sulphuric acid from another bottle I had it
in. This was ticklish business, as it was very dark in
there, and I had to fill these little bottles without see-
ing them; and though I kept a pasteboard over the
giant-caps and the dynamite while I was filling this,
yet a drop of the acid would have set the whole thing
off. We had a mixture of sugar and potash on the
caps, too, that the acid would set fire to immediately.
Then we stretched a wire out from the windlass
about two hundred feet on to a spur track, and tied
a chair-rung to the end of it. We went back to an
135
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
old ore-house beside the spur track, and waited. It
had been dark and lowery that night, but about two
o'clock it began to lighten up. We were a good deal
put out by this, as there was a small moon and it
got quite light. The train we were waiting for came in
every evening about 2.30, and it generally was
on the dot. We heard the men come on the platform
talking, and finally we heard the train. Then we got
down to the end of our wire and took hold of the
chair-rung, and when the train was within about a
hundred feet of the depot, we each had a hold of one
end of this chair-rung which the wire was attached
to, and pulled it and kept right on going. We
intended to take the wire with us, but forgot that
part, as the rocks and debris were falling around
us pretty thick, although neither of us got hurt.
I do not know how many men were on the platform
at the time, but I think there were thirteen killed
outright and some others were maimed and crippled
for life.
We ran as fast as we could, and soon got up on
the railroad and followed it around nearly to the old
Victor mine on the north side of Bull Hill, and then
separated. Adams went on around to Midway, where
he lived, and I went down to where I left my horse, on
the Colorado Springs road, and rode back to our camp
as fast as possible, and got there just at daybreak.
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WE BLOW UP INDEPENDENCE DEPOT
Mr. Neville and Charlie were awake, and I crawled up
in the wagon and went to sleep for a while, or at least
tried to sleep.
Mr. Neville asked me what we had blown up. I told
him nothing at first, or put him off with some evasive
answer. He said there were two reports and they shook
the ground there. He then asked me if it was the Find-
lay mine ; I told him I was not there, and this was rea-
sonable enough for him to believe, for the explosion
was at 2.30 and it was only a few minutes after three
when I got to the camp. But it was all down grade
and my horse was cold standing so long for it was a
cold night for that time of year, with a frost and
I ran him most of the way at full speed, only slacking
a couple of times close to two houses, so they would
not hear the horse running.
We got our breakfast and started on down the
road toward Colorado Springs about eight o'clock.
We did not meet or see any one who said anything
to us until about four o'clock in the afternoon, when
we got close to Colorado Springs, and a man asked
us if we were from Cripple Creek. We told him we
were, and he asked when we left, and we told him
the day before, and he began to tell us about the
explosion, and said there were sixty men killed and
several hurt, and the depot was blown to atoms, and
some of the people living close by were thrown from
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CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
their beds. This startled Mr. Neville and Charlie, as
Neville's house was only about a hundred yards from
the depot, and I had to tell him I knew his folks were
not hurt. I did not let Charlie hear me tell his father
this, but I told him I was not more than a hundred
feet from it when the explosion occurred, and this
somewhat pacified him. When we got to Colorado
Springs we got some later papers and found that the
first reports were exaggerated and that none of the
people living around the depot were seriously hurt,
and we bought some things in the city that we needed,
and went on about four miles beyond the Springs and
camped that night. The next morning I walked back
a ways until I reached a street-car line, and went into
the city and got the morning papers and came back.
We found in the paper where a piece of plank had
gone through the roof of Mr. Neville's house, and a
sliver had struck Mrs. Neville on the breast while she
was in bed, but had not seriously hurt her. This re-
lieved me a whole lot, for I realized my position if any
of his family had been hurt.
We started on again, and drove a few miles beyond
Palmer Lake, and camped the next night, and the
next afternoon we reached the suburbs of Denver and
got a little barn to put our horses and wagon in. It
was only a little way from the end of the street-car
line, and after we put our horses up, we took the car
138
WE BLOW UP INDEPENDENCE DEPOT
and went into the city. We got there a little before
dark.
I left Mr. Neville and started to go to Jack Simp-
kins's room in the Granite Block. I met Simpkins on
the street, and we went up to this room together, and
Kirwan was there, and a little later Haywood and
Pettibone came in, and while we were talking Steve
Adams came in. Kirwan did not take any part in the
conversation; I think he left the room soon after
Simpkins and I came up. They were all greatly
pleased with the job, and they said it was the only
thing that ever saved the Federation from being split
up. They said every delegate there wanted to get
through as soon as possible, and there was no more
kicking and no more new candidates for office, as no
one wanted the offices, but wanted to get away as soon
as possible for fear something would fall. They told
us everything was on fire up in the district, or words
to that effect, and they had declared martial law and
had established a " bull-pen," and were deporting
men, but still they did not think anything of this.
They were well pleased to think they had all been
elected again, except one member of the board, and
they did not want him. They said the dogs had fol-
lowed my trail several miles down the canon, but
Haywood said he did not think they were on to any-
thing. Adams had stayed home and the next day went
139
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
over to Cripple Creek, and his friends advised him
to leave the district, and Monday night after dark he
started to walk to South Park, and he caught the train
there and came in to Denver. He did not leave
any too soon, for that night or the next day, I
have forgotten which, there was a mob of about
a hundred men came to his house, and if they had
found him there is no doubt but they would have
lynched him, as he had the name of being a dyna-
miter.
Haywood and the others asked us what we intended
to do, and I told him I was going up through Wy-
oming on a prospecting and pleasure trip. He asked
us how much money we wanted, and said it would be
better for us not to take it all now or all we expected.
Adams told him he wanted $200 now, and he said
he was going to send for his wife, and I don't
think he said what he intended to do if he knew.
I told Haywood I wanted $300 anyway then. Next
day I got the $300 from Pettibone, and Mr. Neville
and I bought a tent and some other things we needed,
and I think after we were there three or four days we
got our team and started for Cheyenne, Wyo. I think
we were four or five days going to Cheyenne. We put
our horses up there and intended to let them rest a
day or so.
We went to Pat Moran's saloon, as he was an old
140
WE BLOW UP INDEPENDENCE DEPOT
friend of Pettibone's, and he told me he was all right
and to go to see him if we stopped at Cheyenne. The
first night we got in Cheyenne we were at his saloon,
and he handed us a paper with our names and good
description of us, stating we were wanted in connection
with the Independence explosion. I showed it to
Johnnie, and he wanted to go and put a piece in
the paper telling them where we were, if they wanted
us. I told him to wait a while and we would think it
over. This piece also stated we were either going to
Wyoming or New Mexico, and would probably en-
gage in stock-raising, and that we had taken a good
supply of provisions, and were heavily armed with
the latest improved firearms. I thought the proposi-
tion over that night, and W. F. Davis and D. C.
Copley came into Cheyenne that night on a late train,
and said they were making their get-away, as the
Cripple Creek authorities were hunting them, and
they told me how they were throwing all suspects in
the " bull-pen," and deporting all the union men, and
had closed up all the union stores, and forbade any
of the grocers from selling anything to the union
men's families. I did not know hardly what to do.
Mr. Neville still wanted me to go on with him, and
said he would see me through, and that they could
not prove anything against us. I was sure they could
not prove anything if he stood pat, but I was afraid
141
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
they might arrest us and get at little Charlie, who
was only fourteen years old, and make him tell that
I was away nearly all night the first night we camped
out after leaving Cripple Creek.
We had a good outfit, and I wanted to go on this
trip, and we were going to try to get into a saloon
somewhere in a good lively town ; we thought of Cody.
I knew I could get money enough from Haywood to
start up, and Neville was a good saloon man, and also
had some money. I thought he would stay by me
on account of what happened between us, for I knew
he would not have it known about setting his saloon
afire for the world, and he told me it was the first
crime he had ever committed in his life. I feel that
I ought not to write this now, that is, I hate to men-
tion his name, as he is dead and gone, poor fellow,
and I want to say that I do not think Neville would
ever have thought of doing what he did with his
saloon if I had not set him up to it, and agreed to
help him; and if it had not been for that I would
never have taken him into my confidence. I knew he
had a good reputation, and his word would be taken,
and I was sure he would die before he would have
it known that we burned up his saloon. I have no
doubt but this sent him to an early grave if he died
a natural death.
Davis urged me to quit the wagon and Neville, and
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WE BLOW UP INDEPENDENCE DEPOT
for him and I to go to the coast for a while, and he
said this would soon blow over. I did not like Davis
much, and then I knew he was well known, and had
been mixed up in so many strikes that he looked like
bad company for me to be traveling with, and he had
used me pretty small when I was broke in Cripple
Creek. Now I had or could get a little money, and
he had only about $100, and I thought I would have
to keep him, and he would not have much left after
he paid his fare to the coast. I asked Pat Moran if
he would go to Denver for me and take a letter to
Pettibone, and he said he would, as he wanted to go
to Denver anyway. I gave him a letter to Pettibone,
and gave him $10 to pay his expenses. I told Petti-
bone in the letter to see Haywood and get me $500
and send it to me by Pat Moran. I told him I thought
I would go to Los Angeles, and while there would
go out and look at the ranch that Johnnie Neville had
near San Diego. We had talked this over before, and
Pettibone, Haywood, and Moyer said they would put
up the money to buy his ranch, if it suited, and if
it did not to get one that did.
Pettibone sent me the $500, and wrote me a let-
ter to go down to Los Angeles and San Diego and
look over that country and hunt up a small place
near the Mexican line, and he would see that I
got the money to buy it, and he said we would have
143
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
it for a rendezvous and a hiding-place to send any
one we wanted to. He said if we were close to the
Mexican line we could do a little smuggling, and
also get across the line quick. I had told him in the
letter that Davis was there and wanted to go with me,
but he told me to go alone, and if I wanted any one
he would be a pretty good one for me himself. Moran
returned the same night and gave me Pettibone's
letter and the package with the money in it. I think
he stated that the newspapers said they were looking
for me, but, as he thought I was going to Los An-
geles, he did not warn me to keep out of the way,
and I did intend to go there when I wrote him. I told
Johnnie Neville where I intended to go, and he wanted
me to recommend them to buy his ranch down there
if I went.
I thought this all over, and thought if his ranch
did not suit, which I had reason to believe it would
not, as it was in that dry belt and no water and we
did not buy it but we got a place anywhere around
that country, so that he would know where we were,
he would not perhaps feel very friendly toward us
and might divulge our whereabouts. As he wanted me
to stay with him for the time, and said he would go
to California with me later on, I thought it might
be better for me to stay with him and keep on the
right side of him ; and so I decided not to go to Cali-
144
WE BLOW UP INDEPENDENCE DEPOT
fornia for the present, but to go on with him on our
trip.
We left Cheyenne and drove up on Crow Creek,
and camped there two or three days, and Pat Moran
and Davis came up there and stopped a day or so
with us and fished, and Davis wanted to go with
us on the trip, but I told him there was no room
in the wagon, as we were already crowded. They left
us and we went on to Laramie. We just stopped there
a little while and got shaved, and got a few little
things we needed, and inquired the way to Casper.
There are no towns to speak of between Laramie and
Casper, and we drove along leisurely, and stopped
and camped on some creeks where there was good
fishing, and finally reached Casper. I think we were
about two weeks on the road from Laramie to Casper,
and had not seen a paper during this time. Mr.
Neville had written to his family from Cheyenne, and
told them to address him there in care of Pat Moran,
and we made arrangements with Moran to forward the
same to Casper. We went to the post-office when we
arrived at Casper and inquired, but there was no
mail; and I went and called Pat Moran up on the
phone, and he told me no mail had arrived there for
any of us. Neville wrote to his family from Casper,
and told them to address him at Cody.
We stayed in Casper a few days and rested our
145
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
horses, and then started for Cody. There is no rail-
road between Casper and Cody, or at least there were
none at that time, and most of the way it is a dry and
barren country. I think we were about a week on the
road, and about thirty miles from Thermopolis, Wyo.,
when one of the wheels of our wagon broke. I took
one of the horses and saddled him and rode on into
Thermopolis, got a new wheel and sent it out on the
stage, and rode back. We came on into Thermopolis
then, and I think we got into Thermopolis about the
10th of July, 1904.
Thermopolis is a flourishing town situated on the
Big Horn River in Wyoming, and is noted for its hot
springs. Although there was not a railroad within
135 miles at that time, still there were people there
from all over the country taking the hot baths. I
noticed many monuments built upon the mountains
about the springs, and was told they had been built
by people that came there as a last resort, and had
been cured, and built or had these monuments built
as a memorial. We camped there by one of these
springs, and, as it was a nice place to stop, we
thought we would stay a few days, and used to go
in bathing every day. Neville had some kind of a ring-
worm coming on his face, and they told him they
thought these baths would help him, as they had seen
skin diseases cured there before. I think we had been
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WE BLOW UP INDEPENDENCE DEPOT
there nearly a week, and could not get much word
how things were going, and had telephoned to Cody
to see if there was any mail there for Neville, and
was told there was not. As Neville wanted to stay
there and take these baths a while longer, I proposed
to him to take one of the horses and saddle and ride
on to Cody, and have a look around and see what
the prospects were for starting or buying out a saloon,
and then come back again, and perhaps he would be
ready to start again by that time.
Neville was agreeable to that, and so I started and
went to Cody and sent the horse back by the stage
from Meeteetse. This is a live little town situated on
the Gray Bull River, Wyoming. I took the stage from
there to Cody, and got some mail for Mr. Neville,
and a letter for myself from Pettibone. I called Neville
up on the phone and told him I had forwarded him
some letters, and had sent the horse and saddle back,
and was going to leave there for the present, and was
going to Montana, as things did not look good, and
would write to him. I told him things looked good in
Cody, and for him to come on through, and I would
write to him. What caused me to take this course was
Pettibone's letter; he told me they were hot on my
trail, and that I had better get in the tall timber. At
first I could not think they were looking for us, for
if they had been they would have found us before,
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CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
as we had not tried to conceal our whereabouts, and
had been through all the principal cities and towns
in Colorado and Wyoming.
I was undecided at first what to do, but had made
up my mind to leave there for the present. That night
I got in a poker game and won between $100 and $200,
and went to bed about nine o'clock the next morning
and got up in the afternoon. I think they had a game
already fixed up for me. I started to play some more
and lost a couple of hundred dollars pretty quick.
I saw the poker game was too strong a combination
for me and I quit it and went over to buck a Black
Jack game, and got to betting $50 at a turn, and
I lasted only a few turns. I said to Mr. Hall, the
proprietor, " Lend me $50 to get to Denver, and
I will pay you when I come back." I had been
talking of buying a place there, and told them my
partner was at Thermopolis. Mr. Hall handed me
$50 without a moment's hesitation; he was only
loaning me my own money, but not many would
have done that, especially me being a total stranger.
I think I went then under the name of Despasy or
Hogan. I had made up my mind, now that I was
broke, to go back to Denver.
148
CHAPTER TWELVE
HOW I WENT TO SAN FRANCISCO AND BLEW UP FEED
BRADLEY
WHEN I had been gone about six weeks
from Denver after the Independence depot
explosion, I went back there, and met Hay-
wood and Pettibone at the latter's residence. I told
them of my trip through Wyoming. I did not tell
them I had lost my money gambling, but said that I
had invested it in some real estate at Cody, Wyo.,
and that I needed some more money, because Johnnie
Neville and I were going into the saloon business
there. I got some money from Pettibone then. But
we decided that it would not be safe for me to go
back to Cody, as Haywood and Pettibone said there
was no doubt about the authorities at Cripple Creek
being after me.
They told me they had Art Baston working on
Governor Peabody, but that he seemed to be slow,
and Haywood told me that he was married, and that
they did not seem to work so good after they were
married. They told me about Andy Mayberry, super-
149
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
intendent of the Highland Boy mine at Bingham,
Utah, discharging 150 union men because they laid
off to take part in some labor demonstration, and
Haywood said he wanted me to see Art Baston, and
thought he would like to send us up there and put
Mayberry out of the way, as he said they could
not allow a man to do that kind of thing with the
union men, or the union men there would think they
had no protection from the union.
Pettibone made an appointment with Baston, and
I met him at Pettibone's store one evening. He said
he had been around Governor Peabody's place some,
but that Adams had told him about us being there
close to his carriage with the shot-guns, and the
women seeing us, and Baston said he was a little leary
about hanging around there, for fear Peabody had
guards.
Right after that some time in August, 1904 I
met Haywood and Pettibone on a Sunday afternoon,
and we had a long talk in Pettibone's back yard.
They told me that Adams had gone up to Wardner,
Idaho, to help Jack Simpkins get rid of some claim-
jumpers that had jumped his and some other claims,
and that after that Steve was going down to Caldwell,
Idaho, and get ex-Governor Steunenberg of Idaho.
They asked me if I knew where Gordon Post-Office was
up there, as they wanted to send Jack some money
150
STEVE ADAMS
Who confessed in writing to being Orchard's partner and co-worker
in the field of professional murder. Adams subsequently re-
pudiated his confession.
HOW I BLEW UP FRED BRADLEY
there to give to Steve, to come down to Caldwell on
when he got through with this job for Simpkins.
I told them I did not know where Gordon Post-Office
was, but if Jack told them to send it there, likely
it was all right. But they said they would send it to
Ed Boyce at Wallace, and he would give it to Jack.
They also said Adams was going to stop at
Granger, Wyo., on the way up to Idaho, and Hay wood
said that he had given Adams instructions to look
up where the gang of train-robbers and bank-robbers
and hold-ups called the Hole-in-the-Wall gang were.
Haywood was going to get this gang to kidnap
Charles MacNeill of Colorado Springs, manager of
the United States Reduction and Refining Company,
who was the chief man that fought the union in the
Colorado City Mill and Smeltermen's union strike.
Haywood said if he could get this gang in with him,
and kidnap MacNeill and hold him for ransom, they
would get as much money as the strike would cost
them. This gang had headquarters in the Big Horn
Mountains, where you could look out for miles over
the level and see anybody coming. They said the only
way you could get up where they were was through
a very narrow box canon, and they had that fixed so
that a regiment of soldiers couldn't get through there
without being killed off.
But the man they sent Adams to told him there
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CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
was none of the gang there then ; that they were all
South ; Adams wrote Pettibone a letter, and said " the
birds had all flown South."
We talked over our going to Bingham, Utah, and
I told Haywood I was well acquainted there, and was
also acquainted with Andy Mayberry. He said if I
was I had better not go there. He said they had some
work in California, and thought I had better go down
there, and he said they had some of this old work
that they had wanted done a long time, and that this
was the best time he knew of, as they had plenty of
money, and could get it out easier now and it would
not be noticed so much. They received more money
the next month after the convention than any month
during the trouble ; I think they received between $40,-
000 and $50,000 for the strike or eight-hour fund, as
it was called.
We held this latter conversation one Sunday in
Pettibone's back yard Haywood, he, and I and
Haywood finally asked me if I would go to California
alone and see if I could put Fred Bradley out of
the way. Mr. Bradley was manager of the Bunker
Hill and Sullivan mine at the time of the trouble in
the Cceur d'Alenes, Idaho, in 1899, when they blew up
their mill, and Haywood said he was at the head of
the mine operators' association of California, and he
said they were raising an immense fund to drive the
152
HOW I BLEW UP FRED BRADLEY
Federation out of the State, or words to that effect.
He said they wanted to show those fellows that they
never forgot them. He also said he had sent Steve
Adams and Ed Minster to California to get Bradley,
but they did not accomplish it. I told them I would go
down and try it.
The next day, I think, Haywood gave Pettibone
$150 more, and he got me a ticket and a new grip,
and I took the early train the next morning for San
Francisco. Pettibone told me any time I wanted any
money just to wire him and he would send it to me.
I went by the name of John Dempsey. I arrived in
San Francisco in a few days, and stopped at the
Golden West Hotel. I looked around in the city di-
rectory and the telephone guide, and located Mr.
Bradley's office and also his residence, and called up
his office by phone, and they told me Mr. Bradley had
gone on a trip to Alaska and would not be back for
three months. I wrote a letter to Pettibone and told
him this. We had a sort of a cipher to write by, so no
one could tell anything about it if it fell into their
hands. I also told him in this letter to send me $100.
During the time I was waiting for an answer I
noticed in the paper where Johnnie Neville had been
arrested at Thermopolis and was being taken back
to Cripple Creek, and that they also expected to ar-
rest me soon and take me back there, too ; so I thought
153
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
I had better leave the hotel and get a private room,
and not go around much in the daytime. But I had
told Pettibone to address me at the Golden West
Hotel, and had not received his letter yet, but had
gotten a telegram from him stating, " Business bad,
Johnnie on the way, wrote you to-day." I did not want
to stay at the hotel any longer, but I wanted to get
this letter, so I went and hunted the secretary of the
bartenders' union, named Peter L. Hoff, and arranged
with him to get the letter for me at the hotel. I told
him I was a union miner from Colorado. I left the
hotel then and got a private room a little way out.
Hoff sent a man down to inquire for the letter, and
he said as soon as he asked the clerk at the hotel if
there was any mail for Dempsey he touched a button.
He thought he did this to call an officer, and he said
the mail-carrier also happened to be there, and he
spoke up and asked where Dempsey was, and he be-
came more suspicious then, and said I was a traveling
man and had gone to Stockton, Cal. The mail-car-
rier asked him my address, and he told him Stock-
ton, Cal., general delivery. There was nothing in
these maneuvers they just happened that way
but this man thought it looked suspicious, and so it
did. I would say that when you are on work of this
kind you soon become suspicious of everybody and
everything, and, in a word, of your own shadow.
151
HOW I BLEW UP FRED BRADLEY
So Hoff wrote to Stockton, and told them to for-
ward the letter to him at 211 Taylor Street, San
Francisco, and he got a card in a day or so from the
post-office on Mission Street, and there was a regis-
tered letter there for John Dempsey. I gave him an
order to get it, but they would not let him have it.
I did not want to trouble him any more, and he said
he did not believe there was any one watching for me
there, and that if I went down there he would identify
me, so I went down with him later and got the letter
without any trouble.
Pettibone told me to lay pretty low and not let them
pick me up the first thing, and be careful, if I wrote
to him, what I wrote, and to destroy his letters im-
mediately. He also told me to go a little slow on
money, as it was hard to dig up. I got the hundred
dollars I sent for in this letter. I got the Denver
papers there all the time, and knew pretty well what
was going on in Colorado, and kept pretty quiet for
a while, staying in most of the time during the day.
But I got tired of this, and thought I would go out
to some little summer resort and stay there a while,
and I went up to Caliente Springs and stayed there
about a month. I then came back to the city and got
a room out near the Presidio. I noticed by the papers
that they held Johnnie Neville in jail, and would not
give him bail, and I noticed the names of several
155
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
others I knew who were arrested. I used to send for
$100 to Pettibone about once a month, and he
wired it to me. He used to send this to Harry
Green, in care of Peter L. Hoff. He sent this as com-
ing from Pat Bone, or Bowen, and sometimes as from
Wolff. I had some little trouble getting the first draft,
as I was not sure what name he gave when he sent it,
but I got it all right. Mr. Hoff was acquainted with
them down at the postal telegraph office, and after
the first time he identified me they used to give it to
me without any fuss.
They held Johnnie Neville between two and three
months, and then released him on his own recogniz-
ance, and also released all the others, only placing
charges against two, and releasing these on bail. I felt
more easy then and went around more, and Johnnie
and his boy went back to Thermopolis and got the
team and wagon, and drove back to Denver. I noticed
these things in the papers.
I had bought ten pounds of dynamite to make a
bomb with, and got a room only a few doors from
Mr. Bradley's flat. This room was on Washington
Street about a quarter of a block away, but on higher
ground, and my windows were about on a level with
the Bradley flat, and I could look right over into it.
There was a little grocery store and a saloon on the op-
posite corner from Mr. Bradley's residence, and they
156
HOW I BLEW UP FRED BRADLEY
used to buy their groceries there, or part of them. I
used to loaf there in the saloon a good deal, and spent
quite a bit of money with this man. He was an Italian
or a Swiss. The girls that worked for Mr. Bradley
used to be over at the store every day, and Guibinni,
the proprietor, gave me an introduction to them. So
I got to talk to them, and took one of them to the
theater once, and found out from them when they ex-
pected Mr. Bradley home, etc. I stayed there until
he did come home. I went by the name of Berry there.
After Mr. Bradley came home, some time in October,
I noticed his movements, and learned his habits pretty
well. He used to leave his residence about eight o'clock
in the morning. They lived on the corner of Leaven-
worth and Washington streets, in a big three-story
residence flat that had six families living in it. There
was a big archway at the entrance, and the flat was
built out flush with the sidewalk. They all went in
at this archway, but each family had a private en-
trance to their apartment. I had figured a good many
ways how to get away with Mr. Bradley the easiest and
not get caught. I had stood across the street in front
of the entrance to his residence, with a shot-gun loaded
with buck-shot, and tried to catch him coming home
at night ; but it was not light enough to tell him from
the rest, as they all went into this archway. I was
getting sick of staying there, and Pettibone had sent
157
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
an answer to my last letter, asking him to send me
$500, to .call it off, and did not send the money.
My money was getting low, and I was getting des-
perate, for I thought they just took advantage of
me, not sending me money because they thought I
dared not come back to Denver, and I made up my
mind to go back and show them. I knew Haywood,
Moyer, or Pettibone dare not refuse me money if I
asked them personally.
The desperate and horrible means I conceived at
this time to carry out my plan to kill Mr. Bradley
I would gladly withhold and let die in my breast.
But I feel that perhaps I owe some one a duty that
may have been blamed for this, and wrongfully ac-
cused ; and I feel it my duty to make this known, as
I have promised God I will write the whole truth of
my wicked and sinful life, and not try to favor myself.
I have made this attempt several times, and it has
required no small effort on my part to write some
of these things.
I knew this place well, and there was an empty
house with a flat roof just behind the apartment where
Mr. Bradley lived, and there were stairs up from the
back way on the outside of the apartment. I went up
these stairs and got on the roof of this vacant house
for it was right close to the stairs and waited there
until the milkman brought the Bradleys' milk, which
158
HOW I BLEW UP FRED BRADLEY
was a little before daylight. I knew he left this milk
there in bottles, as I had watched him before. I had
a little powder of strychnine made for each bottle,
and raised the paper cover and emptied one of these
in each bottle of the milk and cream, and stirred it
up a little, and pressed the paper cover back again,
and left and went back to my room. I figured the girls
would serve Mr. and Mrs. Bradley's breakfast first,
and they would get the poison first. I could see their
kitchen plainly from the window of my room, but I
could not see anything unusual there that morning.
I did not get up until ten and sometimes later, and
then I usually went down to the little saloon bar at
Guibinni's and got a drink, and sat there and read the
morning paper. This morning I did the same, and I
noticed a bottle of milk standing on the back bar,
and asked Guibinni if he was selling milk, or drew his
attention to the bottle in some way like that. He began
to tell me about this milk, and wanted me to taste of
it. He said he tasted of it, and could feel it in his
throat yet. He told me the girls over at Mr. Bradley's
had brought that bottle over, and wanted him to take
it down and have it analyzed, as they believed there
was poison in it. He said it was bitter as gall. Now
I never knew before that strychnine was bitter, but
it seems the cook had tasted of some of this, found
it was bitter, and told Mrs. Bradley, and then they
159
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
came over to Guibinni's place to get some more milk
and cream for breakfast.
After this failed, I got a bomb ready. I bought
a piece of five-inch lead pipe about a foot long at a
plumber's, and put wooden ends in it. Then I ham-
mered one side of it flat, so it would lie straight with-
out turning over, and I cut a piece out of the other
side, and turned back the flap, and fastened a little
vial on this, so that when you filled it with sulphuric
acid, and you pulled out the cork, the acid would run
out into the hole in the pipe. Then I filled up the lead
pipe with about five or six pounds of No. 1 gelatin,
and put some caps and sugar and potash on top of
this and opposite the hole in the lead pipe, so the
acid would fall on them. Then I planned to hitch
a little string to the cork of the bottle, and fasten
the other end of the string in a screw-eye in a door,
so when you opened the door it would pull out the
cork and set off" the bomb.
I practised with this while I was making it in my
room, so as to see if the cork would come out of the
bottle instead of moving the bomb. I had the dyna-
mite in, but not the caps or acid, and I tried it by
fastening a screw-eye and string on my closet door,
and it worked all right. But one day I left the screw-
eye and the string and the cork on my door, and went
down-town, and forgot about it ; and when I got home
160
HOW I BLEW UP FRED BRADLEY
I thought that was a nice trick to leave that thing
there, for I thought the woman that kept the house
must have seen it when she cleaned up mj room. But
she never gave any sign she noticed it.
After that I watched what time Mr. Bradley usu-
ally came down-stairs in the morning, and how soon
after he ate his breakfast. As I was on a level, or about
so, with their dining-room in my room, I could look
out of the window and see them when they were at
their meals. I noticed Mr. Bradley came down-stairs
soon after he had finished breakfast, and I had to
guess that he would be the first one down-stairs, so
as not to catch any one else. In order to be sure he
would be at home, I called him up one night on a
phone at his residence, and told him I was from Gold-
field, Nev., and had some good mining property up
there, and wanted to raise some money, or get some
one with money interested, so I could develop it ; and
that I had been recommended to him, and would like
to make an appointment to meet him. He said he would
be pleased to meet me and talk the matter over at
least, and could meet me the next morning at his office.
I asked him if he could as well make it the morning
after that, and he said he could at nine o'clock, I
think and I told him all right. I did not want to
try the bomb the next morning, as I was not ready.
The next night I went and fastened a little screw-
161
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
eye in the door of his residence, where it opened out
of the stairway into the archway, and the morning
after I watched him from my room when he went into
breakfast, and waited until I thought he was about
half through. Then I took the bomb that I had all
ready, walked up to his door in the archway, laid it
down, and hooked a little cord over the screw-eye I
had screwed in the door, and laid the mat over the
bomb. This looked like a small parcel, as I had it done
up in a paper.
I had told the lady where I was rooming, the night
before, that I was going away for a while, and I had
also taken my grip down-town the night before and
left it at a saloon. After I left this bomb, I took a
car and went down-town, and got another room down
on Taylor Street. After I rented this, I thought I
would lie down and sleep a while, as I had not slept
much during the night. A little while afterward I
was awakened by some one rapping at my door, and,
on asking what they wanted, was told to open the
door and I would see. I told them they had better get
away from there, and a little while after they came
back. I asked them who they were and what they
wanted, and was told it was the sheriff and to open
the door. I told them to wait until I dressed. I thought
I had been seen putting the bomb at Mr. Bradley's
door and had been followed. I dressed and took my
162
HOW I BLEW UP FRED BRADLEY
gun in my hand and opened the door, intending to
shoot if they wanted to arrest me. But the landlady
was there when I opened the door, and explained to
me that the sheriff had seized her furniture and was
removing it. This was such a happy surprise to me
that I left the house, and never said a word about
the room-rent I had paid her, nor the annoyance they
caused me. This always seemed a little peculiar to me,
that I should happen in a place of this kind at such a
time.
I think it was about four o'clock in the afternoon
when I left there. I bought the Evening Bulletin to
see if there was any account of anything about the
bomb, and there was not a thing. I felt pretty uneasy,
as I knew if it had not been exploded it would be
sure to be discovered, and I thought I might have
been seen there, and leaving that neighborhood that
same morning I would be apt to be suspected. I
thought, too, that when they found the way that bomb
was set, the lady where I boarded would be sure to
remember the screw-eye and string that I had left
fastened to my closet door.
I took a walk over on the west side, a little out of
the busy part of the city. I did not have money
enough to leave the city, and felt pretty miserable,
and the world looked more desolate to me than it ever
had before. I could not see much for me to live for,
163
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
and I thought everything was working against me.
I could not settle my mind on anything or do any-
thing. I was strong and able to work, but could not set
myself about it, as my mind was in such a state, and I
came nearer ending all then than I ever had before.
I went into a restaurant to get something to eat,
as I had not eaten anything all that day. I picked up
another evening newspaper, the Evening Post, and
there was the picture of the explosion and a full ac-
count of it. This paper stated that Mr. Bradley would
probably die, or at least lose his hearing and eyesight.
They gave as the cause of the explosion leaking gas-
pipes and fixtures, and said the gas had escaped and
filled the hall and the stairway entrance to Mr. Brad-
ley's apartment, and as he lit his cigar coming down
the stairway the gas exploded. When Mr. Bradley
opened the door, practically the whole stairway and
entrance into the archway was blown out, and Mr.
Bradley was thrown out onto the sidewalk with the
debris, and the flat was more or less shattered from
one end to the other, and the glass was broken across
the street and for some distance away. It seems now
to me a horrible thing to say, but I felt better after
reading this, for I knew I could now get a good piece
of money without any trouble, as Haywood and Pet-
tibone would be so well pleased.
I sent Pettibone a copy of this paper and told him
164
HOW I BLEW UP FRED BRADLEY
to wire me some money at once, and he did so in a
few days. After about a week I went up and looked
at Mr. Bradley's place, and saw Mr. Guibinni, the
grocer and saloon-man. He told me they thought Mr.
Bradley would lose his eyesight. He said he did not
believe that gas caused the explosion, himself he
thought it was a bomb; but he said Mrs. Bradley
would not hear to such a thing, and said she had
smelled gas escaping for some time. The owners of the
property sued the gas company, and were awarded
$10,000 damages, and when this was carried to the
Supreme Court, they affirmed the lower court.
I stayed in San Francisco two or three weeks after
the explosion, and thought I would take a trip back
to Denver. I went and got a suit of soldier's uniform,
and wore that to Denver as a disguise. I set off the
bomb at Mr. Bradley's house November 17th, and I
got back to Denver about the first part of December,
1904. I went to a rooming-house, and got a room
a little way from Pettibone's store, and then tele-
phoned him to come over, and a few minutes after
he and Steve Adams came. We talked a little while
there, and I told them if Mr. Bradley did not die,
he was at least maimed for life, and would be deaf
and blind. Pettibone was well pleased with this news,
but said it was hard luck that it did not kill him.
Really, Mr. Bradley got well after a while, and is
165
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
neither deaf nor blind; but I thought then he was
very badly hurt.
Adams had come back in September, and he and his
wife were keeping house in Denver then, and Steve
asked me to go home with him. I went with him, and
Billy Aikman was stopping with them, and Billy
Easterly had been there some. I asked Pettibone why
he did not send me the money when I asked for it,
and what he meant by saying to call it off. He then
told me the time they had had with Johnnie Neville
after he had been released from jail in Cripple Creek.
He came to Denver and told them he knew all about
their work, and especially the Independence depot,
and that I had told him they hired me to do it, and
if they did not give him $1,200 he was going to ex-
pose them. Pettibone said for a while he had them
all up a tree, and they had it all planned to kill him
if he kept on. He said that Moyer was especially ex-
cited over it. But finally they scared Neville off by
springing on him how he set fire to his saloon, and
saying they would tell the police, and then he quit
and left the country and went to Goldfield, Nev.
166
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
OUR FIBST BOMB FOB GOVERNOR PEABODT, AND OTHER
BOMBS FOB STREET WORK
I KEPT pretty close for a time after arriving in
Denver. I lived with Adams for a while, and I
did not go out much except at night. I went
over to Haywood's residence at night, and talked to
him once in a while. He said he was better pleased
to have Mr. Bradley maimed the way he was than to
have him killed outright, for he was a living example,
and he said Bradley knew himself where this came
from all right. I think he said he would write and tell
him sometime how it happened. I got money any time
I wanted it; Haywood gave it to Pettibone, and he
gave it to me, and they wanted us to work on Judge
Gabbert and see if we could not bump him off, as
they were very bitter against him especially Moyer.
Judge Gabbert was chief justice of the Supreme
Court, and had decided against Moyer when they
brought him to Denver from Telluride on a writ of
habeas corpus, when he was in the hands of the militia.
So Adams and I strolled around Judge Gabbert's
167
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
residence some at night. They kept the blinds of the
windows pretty close, and we could never see him at
night, but would often see him in the morning or at
noon while he was going or coming from the State
Capitol, as he usually walked back and forth. The
weather was cold and stormy part of the time, and we
did not make any great effort to get him. We had
plenty of money and lived good, and had plenty of
beer to drink, and took things easy.
Haywood also wanted us to watch Mr. Hearne,
manager of the Colorado Fuel and Iron Company.
He said they had sent him out there from Pennsyl-
vania to fix the legislature, as he had done there, and
that he was a bitter enemy to organized labor. Adams
and I strolled around his residence some, but did not
make much of an effort to do anything to him. If we
had seen him at night when we were around there, we
would have shot him, no doubt, if it had looked favor-
able for us to get away.
This was the winter they had such a wrangle over
the governorship, and there was some doubt about
them seating Adams, the Democratic candidate, who
was elected by 12,000 majority for governor over
Peabody, but the Republicans were crying fraud.
Haywood told us then to keep quiet and not pull off
anything until we got Adams seated as governor,
for if we bumped Judge Gabbert off then, it might
168
FIRST BOMB FOR GOVERNOR PEABODY
hurt his chances for being seated. But when it looked
almost sure that Peabody would be seated again, he
wanted us to try and get him then. But they seated
Adams, and then Peabody began proceedings to oust
him, charging fraud in his election, and it came to a
legislature investigation. When it looked like the
legislature was going to seat Peabody and throw
Adams out, Pettibone came to us, and wanted us
to go after Peabody again and try hard to get him,
so we would not have him for governor again.
We started in to watch Peabody nights, and car-
ried our shot-guns part of the time, but we imagined
he had guards around his residence at night, and once
or twice we were followed, and we concluded we would
not try it at night at his residence. We thought of
lying up the street and waiting for his carriage, but
it was too cold to lay around and wait long, and then,
we had to be sure he was in it ; sometimes there were
only women in it. But Peabody always walked up to
the Capitol in the morning while he was governor.
There came about six inches of snow one night,
and it drifted up against the curbstone in some places,
and was deeper there than in the streets. We made a
big bomb and put about twenty-five pounds of dy-
namite in it, and we stretched a wire from Grant
Avenue to Logan on Thirteenth Avenue. This bomb
was shaped a good deal like the one I made for Brad-
169
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
ley in San Francisco, only it was a good deal bigger,
and made in a lead case that Steve Adams got fixed
at a plumber's, instead of a lead pipe. Mr. Peabody
usually walked up Grant Avenue to the Capitol be-
tween nine and ten o'clock in the morning, and we laid
this wire in the evening before the streets were empty,
and covered it up with snow, and then came back a
little before daybreak, and looked again to see if we
had it covered up well. There was a little space be-
tween the curbstone and street for the water to run
through at the crossings, and we dug the snow out
of this enough to lay the bomb in.
We had Billy Aikman get a horse and buggy and
drive Adams and me over there about eight o'clock
in the morning. I got out a block or so away from the
place, and walked over there, and when there were
no people in sight I motioned to them, and they drove
up close as though they were talking to me, and they
handed me the bomb, which we had done up in a cloth.
There was a bottle of acid on top of it, with a cork
that had a wire through it, with a hook on the end ;
so all I had to do was to loop the other wire we had
laid in the night over this hook, and kick a little snow
over it. This only took a minute or so, and then Billy
drove on and waited two or three blocks away with
the rig. We had two rifles and a shot-gun in the rig,
and plenty of ammunition, and intended to fight it
170
FIRST BOMB FOR GOVERNOR PEABODY
out as long as we lasted, if we got cornered; for, of
course, there is more danger in your " get-away "
with a bomb like this than there is with one that sets
itself off like the one I had used with Bradley. Adams
and I stayed on the street where we could see the
governor and his body-guard when they came along.
We had seen them so often, we could tell them more
than a block away.
When we saw them coming, we went to the other
end of the wire and waited until they were just step-
ping over the bomb, and then we intended to jerk
this wire, and that would jerk the cork out of the
little bottle of acid, when the bomb would explode
instantly. There was an alley in the middle of the
block, and while we were at the end of the wire, a
large coal wagon came out of this and drove up to-
ward us. This wagon was nearly opposite us when
another came out, and there seemed to be about a
dozen people coming along right close, and I think
the last wagon was close behind the first, when the
governor came over the bomb. So we did not dare to
pull the wire until he was too far beyond it to be
sure of getting him. We took the bomb up and car-
ried it over to the rig, and drove back and got hold
of one end of the wire, and pulled it in the buggy and
coiled it up. We thought we would try it again an-
other morning, but it got warm and melted the snow,
171
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
and what was left was hard, so that we could not
cover up our wire. We then tried digging into the
sidewalk near his house, or at the edge of the walk ;
but the ground was frozen too hard. One night we
thought a watchman was after us, and I threw away
the spade I was carrying wrapped up in a paper, and
went home.
A little while after we made this attempt with the
bomb, Mr. Peabody moved his offices down in the
Jackson Block, and did not walk up Grant Avenue
as usual. Hay wood said then that he thought we might
set a bomb in under his desk, so that when he opened
the desk it would explode it. He asked me what I
thought about it. I told him we could if we knew for
sure his desk, and that no one would open it but him ;
and he said he thought perhaps Peabody had a pri-
vate desk, and that he would find out. He said the
Federation wanted to move their offices, and he could
easily go up in the Jackson Block looking for a
location, and find out where Peabody's office was. But
he never did, and we never made any further attempt
on Mr. Peabody's life in Denver.
As the legislature investigation proceeded, it was
thought until the very last that Adams would hold
his seat; but they made a compromise to seat Pea-
body, with the understanding he was to resign in
twenty-four hours, and the committee had his resig-
172
FIRST BOMB FOR GOVERNOR PEABODY
nation before they voted to seat him. Then the office
went to Jesse McDonald, the Republican lieutenant-
governor, and Haywood said we need not bother with
Peabody for the present; that we could go down to
Canon City and get him any time.
Then they wanted us to get some of the Supreme
Court justices. Judge Goddard had been appointed
to the Supreme Court by Governor Peabody before he
retired. They were very bitter against Judge God-
dard, as they said he had written up most of the
opinion in the Moyer habeas corpus case, and had
been instrumental in declaring unconstitutional the
eight-hour law that had been passed by the legislature
a few years previous, when he was on the Supreme
bench before; and that he and Frank Hearne, the
Colorado Fuel and Iron Company manager, had influ-
enced the Supreme Court in their decisions after he
had got out. Haywood wanted us to see if we could
not make a bomb that we could throw or drop out
of a window. He thought we could make one and
cover it with a big rubber ball. He said that Mr.
David Moffat stopped at the Denver Club a good deal,
and walked between his bank and there, and Haywood
thought if we had a bomb we could drop or throw
out of a window, that we could get a room along the
street, and when Mr. Moffat came along, we could
drop it out of a window close to him, and get away.
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CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
We had moved over near Globeville in January,
1905, close to Max Malich, and Max wanted us to
blow up the Globeville smelter boarding-house. Malich
was a leader among the Austrian workmen at the
smelter. He kept a grocery store and a saloon, and
they called him the King of Globeville. He had been
Mayor of the town, and he was strong in politics
because 'most all the Austrians would do what he
wanted them to though after that they got on to
him, and he couldn't handle them so well. He belonged
to the smelter-men's union, and they met in his hall,
and, though he wasn't an officer, the Austrians and
others in the union did about what he said at that
time.
There had been a strike at this Globeville smelter
for nearly two years then, and their union was affil-
iated with the Western Federation of Miners. The
smelters were working all non-union men, and I think
two or three hundred stopped in this boarding-house.
Max said there was not much trouble to get in the
cellar or up in the hall, as things had been quiet for
some time, and they did not guard it very close. He
had a man there that had boarded there before the
strike, and knew the place well, and he said he would
help us. We wanted some No. 1 powder, anyway,
to make some bombs, or to experiment with making
them. So we found out where the magazines were, and
174
FIRST BOMB FOR GOVERNOR PEABODY
concluded to go out there and get what dynamite we
wanted.
Adams and I started a little before dark one Satur-
day, and walked out to the magazines. There were a
number of magazines out there on the prairie, and as
soon as it was dark, we pried off a lock from one of
them, and carried 600 pounds of powder out a little
way from the magazine. Then we pried the lock off
another little magazine, and got about fifteen boxes of
giant-caps. Then Joe Mehalich came with the rig, and
we loaded it all into the wagon, and brought it to
where we lived, near Globeville, and buried it in the
cellar.
When we told Haywood and Moyer that Max
wanted us to blow up this boarding-house, they said
not to do it, and we thought no more about it. But
we now had powder to practise making bombs to
throw. We made these bombs by taking plaster-Paris
and making a little ball. We stuck this full of giant-
caps, and let it get hard, and then stuck a wire nail
in each of these caps, point inward; and shived the
nail up with slivers of wood, so as not to let the nail
press upon the powder in the caps. But a little jar,
like throwing it against anything, would drive the
nail into the powder, which is in the bottom of the
giant-cap, and set it off. After we made this frame
with the plaster-Paris, giant-caps, and nails, we took
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CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
a large rubber ball, cut it open, and slipped it around
the outside of the nails. Then we filled it with dyna-
mite, and sewed up the rubber. We tried two or three
of these throwing-bombs, and they exploded instantly
when they were thrown and hit anything hard. Adams
and I took one of them out near Riverside Cemetery,
and Steve threw it up against a big cottonwood tree
that was there, and it exploded and tore out a big
hole in the trunk. Steve was back of another tree when
he threw it, but it shook him up badly when it went
off, and the nails and caps flew everywhere. This one
must have weighed four or five pounds.
We told Haywood and Pettibone then that we could
make thsse work all right, but they did not want us
to use them just then, but to see if we could not shoot
Judge Goddard through the window of his residence,
as he lived pretty well out, and they said the police
were not often around there. We had long overcoats,
and each carried a sawed-off pump shot-gun hung
at our sides under our arms by a shoulder-strap. We
worked awhile, but never saw him but once, and then
we thought we would wait until it was a little later,
as it was Sunday night, and there were quite a num-
ber of people on the street; but we could never see
him again ; we could see some of the rest of the family,
as they hardly ever pulled the blinds clear down, and
the house was built up flush with the sidewalk on one
176
FIRST BOMB FOR GOVERNOR PEABODY
side, and only a few feet back on the other, for it was
on the corner of the street. Mrs. Adams went with
Steve and me sometimes for a bluff, as we thought the
police were watching sometimes. There had been a
drug store held up about this time not far from there,
and there were extra police around, but we thought
they wouldn't be so likely to suspect us with a woman
along.
Sometime the last of January, Adams had gone
down-town and got drunk, and was put in jail for
stealing a bicycle. We did not know where he was
for a week or more, and looked all over for him, and
thought some one had killed him, for he had had a
fight with a man just before that. After he got out
and came home, we gave him a good lecture, but it
did not do much good, as he got drunk again some
little time after, and had to be helped home. Haywood
and Pettibone did not like the looks of this, and we
didn't know but we had better get rid of Adams, as
he knew too much to be around drunk that way.
I left Adams's house about the last of March, and
got a room only two blocks from Judge Goddard's
residence, so I could watch him. We could always see
him leave on the car in the morning and go down,
but could never see him at night. Soon after I quit
living with Adams, he had some dispute with Hay-
wood and Pettibone, and told me they would not give
177
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
him money enough, or only a few dollars at a time,
and he was angry at me and blamed me, too. I told
him there must be some mistake about it, and that
he had no reason to blame me, and I told him I was
going away, and that he and Joe Mehalich could
work together after that, as they chummed together,
and the women visited back and forth. I told him I
was going down to Canon City or Colorado Springs
to get MacNeill or Peabody. He said all right, he
would go with me; but I didn't encourage this, as I
wanted to get rid of him.
Steve went down to get some money, and Pettibone
gave me a few dollars, and said that was all he had
left out of the last Hay wood gave him. Adams sent
Pettibone down to Haywood's office to get some more,
and Hay wood would not give it to him. He told
Pettibone he had given Mrs. Adams, I think, $40
the day before, and that ought to be enough for a
while. Adams went down and saw Hay wood, and they
had some words, and Hay wood did not give him any
money, and when I saw Adams he would hardly speak
to me. I told him we were the last ones that ought to
have any trouble, and that he had no reason to feel
hard at me. He said they had used him dirty mean,
and that he was through with them. I told him it was
his fault that he had no business getting drunk
so much, and that was the reason I quit him, and
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FIRST BOMB FOR GOVERNOR PEABODY
that they were afraid to give him much money at a
time for fear he would be drunk. He said they would
use me the same when they got through with me. I
told him they wouldn't, for I wouldn't stand for it
not if I was where I could get to them.
I would say that Haywood was always very close
and stingy with the money for this work, and would
always be putting you off and saying he would pay
you next week, and we had to look to Pettibone to get
it for us. But we could always get it from Pettibone
all right, as he would go down and tell Haywood
he had got to have it, and Haywood would give it
to him. But, of course, with Steve getting drunk
the way he did, none of us wanted to do any business
with him, and, in fact, wanted to get him out of the
country.
Adams and Joe Mehalich got ready to go away
then, and I went over to Globeville to see them the
day they left, as I did not want them to leave feel-
ing hard toward me, if I could help it. I did not ask
them where they were going, as they did not tell me,
but I called Adams to one side and had a little talk
with him, and told him I was not to blame, and he had
not ought to have any hard feelings toward me. He
said he felt sore at everybody, and that perhaps he
had no reason to feel hard toward me, but that he had
thought I had run him down to Haywood. I told him
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CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
that Haywood knew about him getting drunk without
my telling him.
Adams said they were going to beat their way, as
they had no money to pay their fare. I only had a
little money with me, but I borrowed $20 from Max
Malich and gave it to him, and I told Max to give
the women what they wanted to live on from his gro-
cery store, and send the bill to Haywood and make
him pay it. It was some time in April, 1905, 1 think,
that they went away. I found out later they went
to Park City, Utah, and afterward went to eastern
Oregon on a land claim. But that was the last time
I saw Steve until they arrested him in Oregon in
February, 1906, and brought him to Boise, Idaho. I
paid Max Malich the $20 back the next day.
180
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
OUR FURTHER PLANS FOR GOVERNOR PEABODY AND
HOW I SET BOMBS FOR JUDGES GODDARD AND
GABBERT
I WAS down in Pettibone's store a few days after
this, and a man came in that had worked for him
a good deal, and said he had a better graft now
that he had been out writing life-insurance, and had
made about $800 in a month. Pettibone wanted me to
go and get a contract, and that would be a good bluff
if I wanted to go to any small place. As they wanted
me to go to Canon City and get Peabody, I thought
the insurance scheme would be good, and then I
thought I could make good at it, too. So I went down
to the Mutual Life office and had a talk with John L.
Stearns, the manager for Colorado.
He wanted me to give him some references, and I
gave him Pettibone, Horace Hawkins, of the law firm
of Richardson & Hawkins, James J. Sullivan and
Henry Cohen, the law firm, and John Sullivan, presi-
dent of the State Federation of Labor. I knew Horace
Hawkins pretty well, as he was the attorney that de-
181
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
fended the boys at Cripple Creek. I went and saw him,
and told him I wanted to get a contract with the
Mutual Life-Insurance Company to write insurance,
but did not want to give them my own name. I told him
my name was Thomas Hogan, and I said I had given
him as reference, and would like him to give me a
send-off, and he said he would. I saw John Sullivan
and told him, and Pettibone saw James J. Sullivan
and Henry Cohen. I was only slightly acquainted with
the latter two, and that through Pettibone, as they
were great friends of his. Mr. Stearns wrote to these
in regard to me, and in a couple of days after he wrote
me to come down to his office. I went down, and he
said my references could not be better, and he would
make a contract with me, and he fixed it up right
there and advanced me $25 then, and a little later
$25 more. I told him I would go to the southern part
of the State, and would start in at Canon City and
Florence.
A few days later I went to Canon City, and did
start in to talk life-insurance, and canvassed some.
But I could no more get my mind on insurance than
I could fly. I had located Mr. Peabody's residence,
and noticed he had no guard around it at night, but
went around the same as any private citizen, and
I discovered he usually sat near a window on one
side of his house next to an open lot at night, and
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OUR FURTHER PLANS FOR PEABODY
did not pull the blind clear down. At first I stopped at
the hotel, but later I got a room only about a block
away from Mr. Peabody's residence, on the same
street, so I could watch him. Then I figured out a
plan to make a big bomb, and fix it to go off with
an alarm-clock. I thought I could lay this on the
window-sill where he sat, and set the alarm-clock to
go off in a few minutes, and I could have time to go
to a saloon, and be there when the bomb exploded,
and take a chance of Mr. Peabody moving away from
the window in the mean time.
I think I stayed there about a week, and on Satur-
day I told the old lady where I roomed that I was
going to Denver to stay over Sunday, but would keep
my room and would be back the first of the week.
I took the train and went to Denver, and told them
what I was going to do, and I went over to Max
Malich, and got fifty pounds of No. 1 powder and
a box of giant-caps. This was the powder we took
from the magazine, and Adams and Mehalich sold it
or gave it to Max, and he had it buried in his drive-
shed. I put this in a suit-case and brought it over to
Pettibone's store. I went to a plumbing shop in Den-
ver, and told them I wanted a lead bucket made about
eight or nine inches across by fourteen inches high.
I told the plumber I wanted it for a cactus-plant, so
I could bore holes in it to let the flowers come through.
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CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
He made this for me, and put a bottom in one end
of it, and I hammered it flat on one side, so it would
lay on a window-sill, and packed this as full of powder
as I could, and fitted a wooden end on the top, and
hammered the lead over it, so it would not come out.
I cut a hole in the top side of it and took out a little
powder, and filled this space full of giant-caps, and
wired an alarm-clock on the end of the bomb, and
took off the alarm-bell. Then I had a little bottle of
acid, so I could wire it over the giant-caps, and set
the alarm, and had a fine wire so it would wind up
around the key which wound up the alarm, so that
when the alarm went off, and this key started turning,
it would pull the cork out of the bottle and let the
acid run on the giant-caps. I fixed this up later, after
I went back to Canon City. Except for the clock, it
wasn't fixed much different from the bomb I used
when I was after Bradley in San Francisco, only it
was a great deal bigger, and was made in this lead
case instead of a pipe. There was about twenty-five
pounds of dynamite in this, and if it had gone off, I
suppose it would have blown that side of the house
all to pieces, as Pettibone and I figured we ought not
to take any chances of missing Peabody when I set
this off.
When I was in Denver this time, I stopped at the
Belmont Hotel. I was well acquainted there, and they
184
OUR FURTHER PLANS FOR PEABODY
wanted to know what I was doing, etc. I told them I
was writing life-insurance. Some of them wanted to
know how I was making it, and I told them I was
making all kinds of money ; and a man that I had met
there a great deal, and a great friend of Pettibone's,
said he thought he would try that, too, as he had
written insurance before. His name was William J.
Vaughan. He went right down and saw Mr. Stearns,
and got a contract in a day or two. I left in the mean
time, and took my bomb and went back to Canon
City. I told Vaughan he could come down there, if
he liked ; that there was room enough for both of us.
After I got back to Canon City, Mr. Peabody
started to repair his house, and I could not see him
at the window ; and Vaughan came there in the mean
time, and I thought if he did room with me that would
make it all the better for me, for, if I could see Mr.
Peabody at this window, I could make an excuse to
go out, and not be gone over five minutes, and
Vaughan would not notice it. I used to keep the little
alarm-clock running, and he asked me one day where
that clock was ticking. I told him it was a bomb I
had in my grip, and he half believed it. Mr. Peabody
had his house all torn up, and I could not see him,
and Vaughan did not write any insurance, and also
knew that I did not either, and he felt pretty well dis-
couraged and his money got short. I gave him some
185
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
money and told him to brace up. He wanted me to go
down in the Arkansas Valley with him, and probably
we would do better down there among the farmers,
and I thought that would be a good way to get rid
of him and I could come back again. We got ready,
and I left my suit-case with the old lady, and set it
away under a table where she said she would have no
occasion to move it. I told her I had it full of insurance
papers for advertising. I thought I would be gone
only a few days, and it was so heavy I did not take it
with me. It must have weighed close to fifty pounds.
Vaughan and I left and went to Rocky Ford, about
100 miles or so away in Arkansas Valley, and got a
rig and started out to canvass insurance. We had
been out only a day or so before we met a man writing
hail-insurance that is, insuring a farmer's crop
against hail. A man named Peterson, who was general
agent of the company, was in Rocky Ford, and offered
us a good thing to go to work for him, and we took
him up. We went down to Las Animas, which is about
thirty miles from Rocky Ford, and we worked there
about a week and did a fine business. I got quite in-
terested in this, I guess because it was crooked. We
made from about $20 to $30 a day at the start, and
later made as high as $100, but the latter only a
couple of times.
I had promised Max Malich to be in Denver on a
186
OUR FURTHER PLANS FOR PEABODY
certain day to help him on a job he had, and so I
went up to Denver one Saturday afternoon the last
part of May to do this. But Max Malich said he was
not ready to have this job done. I saw Pettibone, and
he said they wanted something pulled off before the
Western Federation convention met at Salt Lake.
Hay wood had told me this before ; he said it would
look bad for the executive board if we didn't do some-
thing, as we had used so much money during the win-
ter, and not a thing to show for it. He said after he
and Moyer left for Salt Lake he did not care what
we blew up, so long as we made some showing.
Haywood and Moyer had been gone to Salt Lake
some little time now to get ready for the convention,
and Pettibone said he was going to the convention,
too, but he wanted to pull off something first. I told
him I did not like to do anything with Peabody just
then; that Vaughan mistrusted something, and that
I might not be able to do it in a hurry.
He said he would rather get Judge Gabbert than
any one else. We had watched Judge Gabbert, and,
as I have before stated, he usually walked back and
forth to the Capitol, and when he went down in the
morning, he walked down Emerson Street to Colfax
Avenue. There is a vacant lot in one corner on Em-
erson Street and Colfax Avenue, and a foot-path
across the same, and Mr. Gabbert usually took this
187
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
cut-off. We made a bomb and buried it in this path.
We had it fixed with a little windlass, with a fine
wire wound around this with a loop on the end of it.
We left this loop just enough above the ground so we
could see it, and had a stiff wire run through the
little windlass, so it would not turn over until we took
this out, and we fixed this wire so we could just see
it above the ground. We made this in a two-quart tin
molasses-can, so the little windlass and the acid in
the giant-caps were all protected from the dirt, and
we made little holes to run the wires through. We put
this a little to the edge of the path, and were careful
in digging so it would not be noticed by any one
walking across there, but we knew just where to find it.
The next morning Pettibone was going to watch,
and I was going to walk around on this corner, or sit
down there and pretend to be reading, and when Judge
Gabbert came out of his house, which was only a block
away, Pettibone was going to give me the signal, and
I was to walk along this path and hitch a lady's hand-
satchel or large pocket-book to the wire on the bomb.
We had a hook all ready fixed in this pocket-book, and
all we had to do was to hitch it in the little wire that
was wound around the windlass, and pull out the other
wire which held the windlass upright. We tried this
the next morning, but some one cut in between Judge
Gabbert and us, and he was too close for me to fix the
188
OUR FURTHER PLANS FOR PEABODY
pocket-book after they passed. I think we watched
two or three mornings, and I was afraid to touch the
bomb after it had stood that long, for the little wind-
lass swung very easily, and if anything had touched
the wire at all before we came there, the least touch
might turn it over. Pettibone had to go to this con-
vention at Salt Lake then, and he wanted me to work
on this job until I caught a morning when there was
no one coming on the sidewalk but the judge. I could
tell him as soon as he came out of his house from this
corner.
As I was afraid to touch this old bomb, I made an-
other one. I went to Pettibone's store, and in the base-
ment he had some old eight-day clocks. I took the
spring of one of these, and practised with it to see if
I could get it so it would break those little vials that
I had with sulphuric acid in for the bombs. I had tried
a few vials with it, and it broke them every time. Then
I made this new bomb in a wooden box, and fixed it
with this spring. I fastened the spring along the un-
der side of the cover, and bent the spring back, and
held it there with a piece of stiff wire that went down
through the box. I had a little eye in the top of the
wire to hook the pocket-book on, and left this so I
could see it. When this wire was pulled out, it let the
spring hit a couple of half-dram vials that were filled
with acid, and broke them, and the giant-caps were
189
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
right under these. This wire pulled out very easily,
and I knew the spring was sure to break the bottles.
I buried this second bomb as close to the first as I
dared, and not touch it. The next morning I found the
sidewalk clear when the judge was coming, and had
Pettibone's bicycle, and rode along, and stopped at the
bomb and hooked on the pocket-book, and rode away.
I listened, and knew that something had happened to
it, or else he did not see it, for I did not hear it go, and
I did not have time to get more than a block away by
the time he would be there. However, I was afraid to
go back there for fear some one had been watching me,
or for fear something might have happened that it did
not go, and they had discovered the bomb. Anyway,
I was too big a coward to go back, and made up my
mind I would let it go. I did not think the judge would
walk over it and not notice the pocket-book.
I went on down-town, and about an hour afterward
I heard the bomb go off ; but it was not the judge that
got it, but another poor unfortunate man by the name
of Merritt W. Walley. There were about ten pounds
of dynamite in each of these bombs, and they both went
off. It blew this poor fellow to pieces and broke the
glass in the windows for many blocks around. There
were many theories advanced in regard to the cause
of this explosion, but not any of them came anywhere
near the truth. Some thought that a yeggman had
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OUR FURTHER PLANS FOR PEABODY
buried nitroglycerin there and Walley stubbed against
it. I have been told since that Judge Gabbert saw a
friend on the corner and followed the walk around
instead of going across the vacant lot that morning.
I thought when this failed I was out of luck sure, and
that there would not be any chance to work there any
more, as I did not suppose Judge Gabbert would go
across there for the present. So I gave up trying to
do him any harm for the present at least, but I
thought I would make one more attempt, nearly on
the same line, with Judge Goddard.
I made a little square wooden box that would hold
about ten pounds of dynamite, and fixed this out with
a little bottle and a cork which would pull out and spill
the acid on the giant-caps, like the one did on the bomb
I made for Bradley. I told Max Malich about this, and
took it over to his place in Globeville, and stayed there
all night. And just a little before daybreak the next
morning, he sent his rig with a man to drive me over
there. As I have told you, Max had a lot of these
Austrians around him that would do anything he said,
and this man did not ask me any questions, but drove
where I told him. So we drove over to Judge God-
dard's place just before it was light, and I got out and
dug a square hole with a sharp spade I had for the
purpose, and was careful to take the sod off so I could
replace it again, and it would not be noticed. I made
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CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
this hole right up against the gate-post, but on the
outside. The gate opened both ways, but it looked as
though they usually opened it on the inside. I put a
little screw-eye in the bottom of the gate, and spread it
enough so I could slip a loop of a small cord in the
eye. I buried this bomb, and fixed the sod back care-
fully, and pulled some green grass over it, and had the
cord long enough so I could hook it in the little screw-
eye later. This cord was attached to the cork in the
little bottle at the other end. This cord was a greenish
color like the grass, and I scattered a little grass over
the loose end of it. Then I went back to Malich's place
and got breakfast.
After breakfast I came back on the street-car from
Globeville, and about half past eight I walked along
in front of Judge Goddard's place, dropped a news-
paper carelessly, and stooped down to pick it up, and
hooked this cord with the loop into the screw-eye in the
gate. I took a car and went down-town, and I expected
to hear this go before I got down-town, as I waited
within about fifteen minutes of the usual time that the
judge came out and took the car to go down-town. I
did this so there would not be so much danger of some
one else opening the gate first. But I never heard any-
thing from it, and did not know what had become of it.
I thought perhaps they had noticed me when I hooked
in the cord, although I was only a moment and the
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OUR FURTHER PLANS FOR PEABODY
gate is right close to the sidewalk, so I did not go
along there for a good while afterward ; but when I
did I noticed the grass was dead over this bomb, and
then I figured out what had happened.
I had fastened the cord to the bottle by a pin which
I put through the cork, and made into a hook on the
outside. I had put this pin in two or three days before,
and left the bottle full of acid, and evidently the head
of the pin on the inside had been eaten off, and allowed
the pin to pull through the cork, and so none of the
acid had come out, as the rubber cork would close up
after it. Then afterward, as they were watering the
lawn all the time, the water had soaked through and
spoiled the giant-caps, for these are no good when
they are wet. And after this the acid would have no
effect on the caps if it did eat the cork out, and so
could not set the bomb off. This was the only reason I
can give for its not going off.
Well, I thought at the time that I was clear out of
luck and everything was against me, and I left Denver
and went down to the San Luis Valley, where Vaughan
was writing hail-insurance, and went to work again
with him. We worked there about two weeks and made
good money. They all came back from the Federation
convention at Salt Lake about the 1st of July, 1905,
Haywood and Moyer both being elected again, and I
told Haywood the hard luck I had had, and he thought
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CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
I had better lay off for a while. Hajwood and Moyer
left right away again for Chicago, where they went
to form a new organization which they called the In-
dustrial Workers of the World.
I did not do anything for a time not until Hay-
wood came back from Chicago in July. I left this
grip down at Canon City with the bomb in it so long
that I was afraid to go after it, for fear they had
found out what was in it and might arrest me ; but we
had concluded to let Peabody alone for the time being,
and do some work in Denver, so I went down to Canon
City one day and got the grip all right; and the old
lady said it had never been moved. I told the old lady
some yarn about leaving the grip there so long, and
came away and brought the bomb to Pettibone' s house,
and put it in his cellar, but a little later took it out
and buried it.
Pettibone and I told Haywood if we had a good
horse and buggy we would do some work in Denver.
Pettibone wanted to get Judge Gabbert, Judge God-
dard, or Sherman Bell, and Haywood sent up to Crip-
ple Creek and had them bring a team and wagon down
from those the Federation had at their stores there,
and we tried these horses, but they were all used up and
were no good for drivers. He sent them back again,
and then bought a horse and buggy from a colored
man. I had a barn rented about a block and a half
194
OUR FURTHER PLANS FOR PEABODY
from Pettibone's residence^ and Pettibone and I took
the rig there and started in to assassinate Sherman
Bell. This was in August, 1905.
We drove around there nights, and I would go by
his place in the daytime and see if I could see him. He
lived right on the edge of Congress Park, and the
shrubbery came right close up to his back yard, and I
was going to crawl up as close as I could and see if I
could not see him through the window. I tried this
several times, but they had some little dogs that used
to bark when they heard a noise, and I never got any
closer than the back-yard fence. I was trying to get
between his house and the one next to it ; the house next
to his was empty, and they did not pull the blinds
down at the windows on this side of Bell's house. I was
working to get in between these houses, but these dogs
always made a racket. Some one would come out, but
I could not tell in the dark who it was. I had a pump
shot-gun loaded with buck-shot, and could have shot
this man ; but I was not sure whether it was Sherman
Bell or not, as I had seen another man there. Pettibone
kept the rig and waited for me out in Congress Park,
a little way behind the house.
195
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HOW I STARTED AFTER GOVERNOR STEUNENBERG
SOME time in August, 1905, Mover came back
from California where he had been on a vaca-
tion. Nearly ever since the Industrial Workers'
convention at Chicago, I saw him on the street and he
asked me what I was doing, and I told him we were
after General Bell. He said we would have to cut that
out in Denver while he was there, as he could not stand
any more torture from being thrown into prison, as he
was half dead now. He said they had some work to do
on the outside, and for me to come down to the office
and we would talk it over. The next day I went down
and I think Pettibone went with me, or came a little
later, and Moyer said he would not take any more
chances of being thrown in jail, and said further that
the way his health was, he could not stand another
siege like they had given him at Telluride, and that
would be the first thing that would happen if we
bumped Sherman Bell off. He said they had some
work on the outside to do, and then he said he wanted
me to go down to Goldfield, Nev., and do away with
196
HOW I STARTED AFTER STEUNENBERG
Johnnie Neville. He said he could not get him out of
his mind and could not sleep nights thinking about
him, and that he knew too much and was liable to get
them in trouble any time and especially so if he got
hard up.
Moyer called Hay wood and Pettibone into his office,
and he explained his condition to them, and said we
had some work on the outside that they had wanted
done for a long time and that we had better do that
now. Pettibone said he would like to get some of these
fellows in Denver while we were fixed for it, and Hay-
wood said he was willing to take his chances, but
Moyer absolutely refused to have anything done in
Denver while he was there. Then Haywood said he
wanted to get ex-Governor Steunenberg before he left
the office, and further said he had sent two or three
men down there to get him, but they had all failed.
These men they had down there at different times
were Steve Adams and Ed Minster and Art Baston,
and a man named McCarty from the Creur d'Alenes.
Moyer said that he thought it would have a good
effect if we could bump Steunenberg off and then write
letters to Peabody, Sherman Bell, and some others that
had been prominent in trying to crush the Federation,
and tell them that they, too, would get what Governor
Steunenberg got ; that we had not forgotten them, and
never would forget them, and the only way they
197
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
would escape would be to die, and they need not
think because we had overlooked them for a while
that we had forgotten them. Haywood said we would
go back to Paterson, N. J., and send these letters
from there and write them in such a way that they
would think it was some of those foreign anarchists
that had sent them, as that is the American head-
quarters for the anarchists. He said he did not know
what would be worse than to know some one was on
your trail to kill you, and not to know who it was
or when to expect it, and that it would be like a living
death and that these fellows would be afraid of their
shadows, and if we got Steunenberg, after letting him
go so long, then they would think sure that we never
forgot any one that had persecuted us.
We talked a whole lot more on this, and Pettibone
said this would be all right, but he would like to do a
little work at home, and he further said he was afraid
it would be a hard proposition to get Steunenberg
down in a little country town, like Caldwell, Idaho,
where he lived. Haywood said he had been told that
Steunenberg was in the sheep business and got in a
buckboard and drove out to his sheep camps in the
mountains, and paid no attention or even thought his
life was in danger, and that it had been so long since
the Coeur d'Alene trouble that he likely had forgotten
it. They said I could make the round trip either
198
HOW I STARTED AFTER STEUNENBERG
go to Nevada for Neville, and then to Caldwell, or
to Caldwell first. I told them I would go to Caldwell
first. Mover wanted me to go to Nevada first or to get
around there as soon as I could. Their plan was for
me to go down to Goldfield and get in with Neville and
pretend to get drunk with him, and put some cyanide
of potassium in his whisky or whatever he was drink-
ing. This they thought would be easy, as he kept a
saloon, they wanted this done as quietly as possible,
and thought there would be no suspicion attached to
it if he did die suddenly, and no notice would be paid
to it in a new place like Goldfield. Moyer was the only
one that was very anxious to have Johnnie killed. I
told him I would do it, but I did not intend to at the
time.
Moyer told me to get what money I would need
from Haywood ; he asked me how much I would need,
and I told him $300. Haywood had given me $60 a
few days before this and he gave me $240 more, and
said he hoped I would succeed in getting Steunenberg,
as he had already cost them a lot of money. I told him
I would do the best I could. I did not see him again
before I left. Moyer went out that afternoon fishing
up Platte Canon, and Pettibone wanted me to go with
him that night, and make one more attempt on General
Bell, and I did, but did not try much to see him. The
next day I got everything ready, and packed the big
199
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
clock bomb that I had brought up from Canon City
in my trunk, and bought a return ticket to Portland,
Ore., good for ninety days with stop-overs any place
on the route, good also to return via Seattle and
Spokane, Wash.
We had talked over the proposition and Pettibone
wanted me to look over the country around Seattle
and Puget Sound, and see if I could not find a small
place on the Sound close to the British line. We had
letters from Arthur Parker, a Cripple Creek miner,
who had gone up there and got a place, and he liked it
very much. Pettibone and Haywood said if I found a
place that I thought would suit us to write them and
they would dig up the money to buy it, and I told them
I would hunt up a place somewhere, as I thought I had
taken chances enough and was entitled to the price of
a small place. Pettibone and I were going to live there,
but we were going to make it a headquarters where
Haywood and Moyer could send men they wanted to
keep out of sight. We also thought that, being near
the British line, we could do some smuggling there.
I left Denver between the 25th and 30th of August,
1905, over the Rio Grande Railroad. I stopped at Salt
Lake City a few days and met some of my old friends,
among whom were Charlie Shoddy and Lewis Cutler.
The latter lived in Salt Lake, but Shoddy came from
the Coeur d'Alenes, Idaho, with me shortly after the
200
HOW I STARTED AFTER STEUNENBERG
trouble in 1899. We had worked together in Arizona
and Nevada since, but I had not seen him since leaving
Utah for Colorado, and we talked over old times. He
said it had been coming pretty tough for him, and said
I looked pretty prosperous, and asked me what I had
been doing. I told him I had found a new way of
making a living without working so hard, and he said
he wished I would tell him how. I told him to keep me
posted where he was and I would write to him if I had
something on.
I then left Salt Lake and came on to Nampa, Idaho,
which is about nine miles from Caldwell, and stopped
off there and stayed a few days at the Commercial
Hotel. I met a man named Wilcox from Colorado
there, and I talked with him a good deal, and he told
all about the country, as he had been here before.
I asked him if he knew Mr. Steunenberg, and he
told me he did, well, and was talking to him just a
day or two ago at the depot, when the governor was
waiting for a train. Mr. Wilcox spoke of the trouble
in Colorado and said Mr. Steunenberg said that Gov-
ernor Peabody did not act quick enough in that
trouble. I think I stayed in Nampa three days and
Mr. Wilcox left.
Then I went down to Caldwell and stopped at the
Pacific Hotel, and told Mr. Dempsey, the proprietor,
I would stay a few days, and that a friend of mine
201
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
in Colorado wanted me to stop off there and see what
the chances were to buy some lambs. He told me the
names of some sheep-men there, and among other
things he mentioned Governor Steunenberg's name.
He further told me that he was not at home much, but
was in Boise and Mountain Home most of the time
and was engaged in buying and selling sheep.
I took a walk around and located where Governor
Steunenberg lived, and then took the train in the after-
noon and went to Boise and stopped at the Capitol
Hotel one night. This was in the early part of Sep-
tember. I looked over the register, but did not find
Mr. Steunenberg's name. The next morning I went
over to the Idan-ha and took a look over the register,
and found his name there. I went back to the Capitol,
and paid my bill, and got my grip and went over to the
Idan-ha and got a room. My room was on the same
floor that Mr. Steunenberg's was, and that noon, when
the chambermaids were off the floor, I tried a skeleton
key I had to see if it would open his room, and it did
all right.
I got to talking to a man down in the hotel lobby
that afternoon and he asked me my business and I told
him I was going to Portland to the fair, but I stopped
off here for a friend of mine in Colorado to make some
inquiry what the chances would be to buy a few thou-
sand lambs for feeding purposes. He said that was his
202
HOW I STARTED AFTER STEUNENBERG
business and that he was working for a stock com-
pany from Wyoming, and he took me across the street
from the Idan-ha Hotel and introduced me to a Mr.
Johnson and his son, who were commission men. Mr.
Johnson named over some of the big sheep-men and I
told him I thought I heard my friend say that he
bought some the year before from a man by the name
of Steunenberg. Yes, he said, probably so, as ex-Gov-
ernor Steunenberg was in the sheep business. Then
he said, " By the way, that's him over there in front of
the Idan-ha now," and he pointed him out. That was
the first time I had ever seen Governor Steunenberg
to know him.
In a little while we went down and went back to the
hotel, and I thought I would get my grip and go to
Nampa, and get the big bomb I had made for Gover-
nor Peabody in Canon City out of my trunk in the
depot, and come back, and either set it with the alarm-
clock and leave it in the grip and set it under his bed,
or set it like the Bradley bomb with a string on his
bedroom door, so it would go off when he went to his
room.
While on my way from Boise to Nampa I got to
thinking what this would do, and that they would look
pretty close after all strangers, and that my coming
there and going away so quick would look pretty sus-
picious. This bomb had twenty-five pounds of dyna-
203
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
mite in it, and I knew it would blow that part of the
hotel all to pieces, and probably kill a lot of people.
But that was not the reason I stopped, for I had no
heart at that time and thought very little of how many
I killed, as long as Mr. Steunenberg was one of them.
I was only thinking what the chances of myself were
in being discovered. I knew I could get the bomb in
his room, and get away from the hotel, and if I used
an alarm-clock, I might be half-way to Portland and
not be discovered. The only danger of this was that
he might look under the bed and find it, and if I set it
at his door, the time he would be killed would depend
on what time he went to bed. I knew this latter was
the surest way to catch him, but I did not know how
far I might get away before he might go to his room,
and I did not want to set this at the door until about
dark for fear some of the chambermaids might go in
the room.
As I had my ticket and money enough, I made up
my mind all at once I would go on to Portland and
Seattle, and look around Seattle and the sound for the
little ranch we had spoken of and then go up to Wal-
lace and look after a proposition D. C. Coates had
spoken of when he was in Denver the month before. I
always dreaded to do these murders, and usually put
them off as long as I could or rather as long as I had
money.
204
HOW I STARTED AFTER STEUNENBERG
So I took the train and went on to Portland that
same night, and stayed there a few days, and took in
the fair, and then went on to Seattle and stayed there
a week or so. This was about the middle of September.
Pettibone had given me the address of an old partner
of his at Seattle, named William Barrett, and I hunted
him up and he showed me around the city. This was
my first time there. I told Barrett I wanted to get a
small place up on the sound somewhere close to the
British line. He took me down and introduced me to
some real estate men and I went out and looked at
some places near Seattle, but I did not like them, and
I did not like the weather there, as it was cold and
raining there then. I got Barrett to send Pettibone a
good map of the sound country, and I left there for
Spokane, stayed there one night, and started for Wal-
lace, Idaho. I stopped off at Wardner to seek Jack
Simpkins and I found him and told him where I had
been, and what I went to Caldwell for, and what I was
in Wallace to look up.
205
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE ASSASSINATION OF GOVERNOR STEUNENBERG
JACK and I left Wallace for Spokane, about
October 20th, and Jack wanted to go over to
Marble Creek to his claims, and I was going with
him for a litle hunt, as he said there were deer and elk
up there. We got tickets to Harrison and from there
to Spokane by boat and electric line. My trunk got
checked wrong on this trip and I waited a few days
in Spokane for it. Then finally we started for the
Marble Creek country. We went up to the head of
navigation on the St. Joe River. On our way up we
found the trunk at Harrison. Jack and I went over
twenty-five miles or so from the head of the St. Joe,
over to Marble Creek; we were gone about a week.
During the time we were over there Jack showed me
where he and Adams and the others killed Boule, the
year before, and his horse and dog, and where the other
claim- jumper that was with him ran as they were
shooting at him.
The last part of October we came to Spokane again
and had planned to come to Caldwell, as Jack wanted
206
THE ASSASSINATION OF STEUNENBERG
to have a hand in the killing of Governor Steunenberg.
Jack said he could make it as an excuse that he wanted
to visit the unions at Silver City and vicinity, and then
he could charge the Federation with his time and
expenses. I made up my mind I would sue the rail-
road company for damages for holding my trunk.
Jack had ordered ten pounds of No. 1 dynamite the
day before at a hardware store, and after we went
over and got this we went up to Robinson, Miller &
Rosenthal's law office, to see about lodging a claim
against the railroad for damages for holding my
trunk. We met Miller on the elevator and he went
up with us. This was the first time I ever saw him,
and Jack introduced me to him, he being the only
member of the firm there then. I told him about the
trunk, and he asked me how much a day my time
was worth and what my business was. I told him I
was a mining promoter, and my time was worth $10
per day. I think he figured up $60 and drew up a
paper, and I made an affidavit to it, and he said he
would sue them right away and send me half of what
he got. I gave him no money, as he was to get half
of what he collected. Jack had this little box of dyna-
mite with him, and Miller asked him what he had
in the box, and he told him dynamite. I don't think
Miller thought it was dynamite, as Jack said it as
though it was a joke, but it was a common thing for
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
any one that knew us fellows to call us dynamiters
in a joking way, and I must say that we felt somewhat
proud of the name. Miller told me some time after
that he settled my claim with the railroad company
for $25, and sent me a check for $12.50. He sent this
check to Denver to Pettibone's store, as I had my mail
go there, and then Pettibone would forward it to me
wherever I was, but I never got this check.
Jack and I got ready in a few days and came to
Caldwell, Idaho, and stopped at the Pacific Hotel. It
was now about the 1st of November. We looked
around to see if we could see Mr. Steunenberg for
three or four days, and as we did not see him, we
thought we would take a run up to Nampa, and tele-
phone to his residence from there as he had a phone
in his house and make some excuse to find out where
he was. I telephoned to his residence at Caldwell, and
they said he was home, but was down-town. I told
them I would call him later.
We then left Nampa and went back to Caldwell;
this was on a Saturday evening. We registered both
at Caldwell and at the Commercial Hotel, Nampa;
I as Thomas Hogan and Jack as Simmons. We went
around Mr. Steunenberg's residence that night, but
did not go close to the window and, as his house
stood back quite a little from the street, and it being
bright moonlight, we could not tell him for sure,
208
THE TWO STEUNENBERG BOMBS
From models made by Orchard. The lower of these failed to ex-
plode. The ex-Governor was killed by the upper one; the clock
on this was not used, the cork of the bottle of acid being pulled
out by a string fastened to a gate.
THE ASSASSINATION OF STEUNENBERG
although the window shades were clear up and we
had a good pair of French opera-glasses. The next
day we fixed a bomb and thought, if we caught Mr.
Steunenberg down-town we would watch him, and,
if he stayed until after dark, we would place this
along the pathway leading to his residence and tie
a cord or fine wire across the pathway so that when
he walked into it he would explode the bomb.
We did locate him on Sunday afternoon sitting in
the office of the Saratoga Hotel, and we watched him,
and he remained until after dark, and as soon as
it was dark we took the bomb up on the street lead-
ing to his residence and placed it close to the path
where he would be most apt to pass, and laid it
close to the path, and put some weeds over it, and
stretched a fine wire across the path, and fastened it
on the opposite side. Mr. Steunenberg's residence was
the only one up this street and we thought he would
be the only one likely to be going up there that night,
or would be apt to be going home and be the first
one along. This bomb was just the ten-pound box of
dynamite we bought at Spokane, with some giant-
caps in it, and a little vial of sulphuric acid in a wind-
lass that would turn over and spill the acid on the
caps.
After we placed this, we hurried back to the Pacific
Hotel so we could prove where we were if necessary.
209
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
We waited an hour or two, and as we did not hear
any explosion, we went down by the Saratoga Hotel
to see if he had gone from there. He had gone and
we went up where we had placed the bomb, and found
he or some one had passed and broken the fine wire
across the path, and had turned the little windlass
with the bottle of acid in it over so quick that none
of the acid had spilled out, though the bottle had
turned clear over, and was nearly right side up again.
It was turned over enough so that the acid was about
dripping out, and it was very ticklish business to
handle it, and I thought at first I would leave it where
it was, but finally I put my finger over the mouth
of the vial, and took it out, and took the bomb up
and carried it over by the railroad track, and cov-
ered it up with some weeds, and went back to the
hotel. We looked for Mr. Steunenberg again the next
day, but could not see him, nor did we see him for
some days after.
Jack got afraid to stay there, and began to think it
would look bad for him, and make it worse for me
if we did kill Mr. Steunenberg, and he was found
there and known and he had seen some people there
that he knew, so he decided to go over to Silver City
and Delamar and visit the unions there, and he wanted
me to stay and see if I could not get a chance to
finish the job.
210
THE ASSASSINATION OF STEUNENBERG
When Jack went, I left the Pacific Hotel and rented
a room over on the Boulevard at W. H. Schenck's
a private house. This was on a street that Mr. Steu-
nenberg would be apt to go up and down to and
from his residence when he came down-town, and I
had a front room and could see up and down the
sidewalk. I stayed there two weeks, but Mr. Steunen-
berg was away most of the time. I think he usually
came home Saturdays and stayed over Sunday. I
noticed in the papers that Governor Gooding had ap-
pointed Mr. Steunenberg on some committee to meet
in Boise about this time, and I thought I would go
to Boise again, and see if I could not catch him
at the hotel. I went out and got the bomb where I had
it cached by the railroad track.
I had two letters from Jack, and he told me Moyer
had been up to Silver City, and Easterly had told
him we were at Caldwell, as I had written to Easterly,
and Jack said that Moyer flew right away from there.
Jack went up to Hailey from Silver City. I was
in Nampa the night he came back from Hailey, and
he stopped off at Nampa, too. But he got up and
left the next morning for Caldwell before I was up
and I did not see him. He went up to the house where
I was, and they told him I went away the day before,
and did not come back that night, but my things were
there. I went back to Caldwell that afternoon and met
211
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
Jack at the depot, as he was going to take the train,
and he said he had left a letter for me. I told him
he had better wait and take the midnight train, and
he did. We went over to my room, and in going over
he said he had a good saddle spotted, and that he
would get it now that he had waited and take it
home with him. It was hanging up on the outside
of a little outbuilding by a house. We had picked
up a light lap-robe some time before, and wrapped
it around our bomb. We got this lap-robe and Jack
went to a hardware store and got a ball of twine
and a sack needle, and we made a sack out of the lap-
robe in my room and, about half an hour before train
time, we went down and got this saddle and put it
in the sack and I helped Jack carry it nearly over to
the depot. I had a railroad ticket good from Spokane
to Denver and I gave this to Jack, as he was going
to Denver to attend a meeting of the executive board
of the Western Federation of Miners, of which he
was a member.
Simpkins said for me to be sure and not get dis-
couraged and leave until I got the governor, and if
I got broke to let him know and he would see that I
got money, and he would fix it so that after the job
I would get a good bunch of money enough to
buy a ranch and quit this work and let somebody
else do it, as I had done my share. He wanted me to
212
THE ASSASSINATION OF STEUNENBERG
buy a ranch up on the St. Joe River, and I got sev-
eral letters from him some of them after he went
to Denver and he told me in one of these that he
had everything all fixed, and Pettibone would send
me the money as soon as the job was done.
As I have before stated, I thought I might find
Mr. Steunenberg in Boise, and I left Caldwell for
there a day or two after Jack left. I stayed a few
days in Boise, but saw nothing of Mr. Steunenberg,
and I thought I would like to have some one to help
me, and I was lonesome and disgusted to have to wait
so long. I telephoned to Silver City to Easterly and
asked him if he wanted to take part in the contract,
and he said he could not leave there just then, and
I made up my mind to go to Salt Lake City and
get Charlie Shoddy, the man I met in Salt Lake City
when on my way out to Caldwell the first time.
I left Boise for Salt Lake City about November
20th, and went up to Siegel Brothers' store there, as
they owned this mine where Shoddy was working, and
I asked if Charlie was still out at their mine. They
said they thought he was, and I wrote him and ad-
dressed the letter to Siegel post-office, but never got
an answer from it.
I stayed in Salt Lake City about three weeks, and
while there I got a letter from Pettibone stating that
my friend Johnnie Neville had died quite suddenly
213
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
in Goldfield, Nev., and a little later I saw the account
of it in the papers. Now I had written Moyer a let-
ter some time before this and told him to send me
$100, or to send it to Jack for me, and also told
him in this letter that I had sent Shoddy to Gold-
field, Nev., to do that job. This was a lie, of course,
but when I saw the account of Johnnie's death, I
thought I would take advantage of it, and make
Moyer believe this man had done this, and I wrote
him to this effect, and also wrote Simpkins at Denver
and told him to tell Moyer. He answered me that
he did, and would get some money for Charlie. I also
told them that Charlie was there in Salt Lake City
with me now, and we were going to Caldwell and that
I had money to take us there, but that they had
better send me $500 or so for Charlie to Nampa,
as I told them Charlie was to stop there while I
was looking after things in Caldwell. When I did
not hear anything from Charlie, and as my money
was getting low again, I left for Caldwell. This was
about the middle of December, 1905.
I went to the Saratoga Hotel at Caldwell, and got
an answer to my letter that I sent Pettibone before
leaving Salt Lake City, and he said he had sent my
letter to Jack, and I supposed they had given him
the money for me to give Charlie. A while after
I got a letter from Jack, and he said he had stopped
THE ASSASSINATION OF STEUNENBERG
off at Salt Lake City on his way home from Denver
to see me, but could not find me and did not know
where I had gone. He sent me a piece of a type-
written letter that he had received from Haywood,
which stated that he thought if there were any more
remittances for assessment work that they had better
be sent through him. This was the work they referred
to that I was doing. But before he sent me any money
I was arrested. I told them I was looking to buy a
ranch, and I saw a number of real estate men about
this. I had stayed at the Saratoga Hotel all the
time.
On Christmas Day which was Monday I saw
Mr. Steunenberg going to his brother's about noon
as I supposed, for a Christmas dinner and I
watched for him to come home after dark, and had
a pump shot-gun and was going to shoot him with
buck-shot. I had not been up by his residence long
before I heard him coming, and started to put my
gun together, as I had it down and one piece hung
on each side of me with a cord around my neck under
my overcoat, but I had some trouble getting it to-
gether, as this cord bothered me, and they got into
the house before I got it together. I went around
the house and waited to see if I could get a chance
to see him through the window, but I think he went
into the bath-room shortly after coming home, and
215
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
went from there to bed and had no light. I stood
behind a tree close to the house and could see some
one in the bath-room, but the steam was so thick I
could not be sure it was him. I waited there until
they went to bed, but did not see him, and then went
back to the hotel. I buried some shot-gun shells under
the sidewalk loaded with buck-shot on my way up, as
I had too many, and did not want any left in my
room if I should use them.
There was a mask ball at the Saratoga that night,
and I had thought if I shot Governor Steunenberg,
I could easily go up-stairs and not be noticed, as
they could not tell me from anybody else in the crowd.
I did not see Mr. Steunenberg again until the next
Thursday. I did not know where he went when he
was away, and I saw his son on the street one day,
and I spoke to him and asked him if they had any
sheep to sell. I thought I would find out this way
where his father went. He told me that he knew noth-
ing about it, as his father attended to that, but he
said I could find out by telephoning to his father at
the company ranch at Bliss. But he said he would
be home the next day, and I could see him if I was
there. I told him I just wanted to find out where some
sheep could be bought, as a friend of mine wanted
them to feed.
The next day, Friday, I went to Nampa and
216
THE ASSASSINATION OF STEUNENBERG
thought I might get a chance to put the bomb under
Governor Steunenberg's seat, if I found him on the
train, as the train usually stops fifteen to twenty
minutes at Nampa. I had taken the powder out of the
wooden box, and packed it in a little, light, sheet-iron
box with a lock on, and I had a hole cut in the top
of this and a little clock on one side. Both this and
the bottle of acid were set in plaster-Paris on the
other side of the hole from the clock with a wire from
the key which winds the alarm to the cork in the bot-
tle. The giant-caps were put in the powder under-
neath this hole, and all I had to do was to wind up
the alarm and set it and, when it went off, it would
wind up the fine wire on the key, and pull out the
cork, and spill the acid on the caps. I had this fitted
in a little grip and was going to set it, grip and all,
under his seat in the coach, if I got a chance. I went
through the train when it arrived at Nampa, but did
not see Mr. Steunenberg, and the train was crowded,
so I would not have had any chance, anyway. I saw
Mr. Steunenberg get off the train at Caldwell, but
missed him on the train.
I saw him again around Caldwell Saturday after-
noon. I was playing cards in the saloon at the Sara-
toga, and came out in the hotel lobby at just dusk,
and Mr. Steunenberg was sitting there talking. I went
over to the post-office and came right back, and he was
217
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
still there. I went up to my room and took this bomb
out of my grip and wrapped it up in a newspaper
and put it under my arm and went down-stairs, and
Mr. Steunenberg was still there. I hurried as fast as
I could up to his residence, and laid this bomb close to
the gate-post, and tied a cord into a screw-eye in the
cork and around a picket of the gate, so when the
gate was opened, it would jerk the cork out of the
bottle and let the acid run out and set off the bomb.
This was set in such a way, that if he did not open
the gate wide enough to pull it out, he would strike
the cord with his feet, as he went to pass in. I pulled
some snow over the bomb after laying the paper over
it, and hurried back as fast as I could.
I met Mr. Steunenberg about two and a half blocks
from his residence. I then ran as fast as I could, to get
back to the hotel if possible before he got to the
gate. I was about a block and a half from the hotel
on the foot-bridge when the explosion of the bomb oc-
curred, and I hurried to the hotel as fast as I could. I
went into the bar-room, and the bartender was alone,
and asked me to help him tie up a little package, and I
did, and then went on up to my room, intending to
come right down to dinner, as nearly every one was
in at dinner.
I was going to take some things out of my room
and throw them away, and I emptied some acid I had
218
FRANK STEUNENBERG
Ex-Governor of Idaho, for whose murder by a bornb Secretary -Treas-
urer Haywood of the Western Federation of Miners was tried.
THE ASSASSINATION OF STEUNENBERG
in a bottle into the sink, and put the bottle in my
coat pocket, intending to take it down and throw it
away, and a moment after doing this, there was a
flash like a pistol-shot rang out. It almost unnerved
me for a moment, but I soon understood what it was.
I had taken a giant-cap out of a box I had in my
grip a few days before, to try it to see if they were
all right, as I had had them a good while, and I did
not try this and forgot to take it out of my pocket,
and there must have been a little acid left in the bottle
I put in my pocket, and this got into the cap and ex-
ploded it. This tore my coat all up, but did not hurt
me a bit, but it unnerved me, and I thought every-
body in the house would hear it, as my room was
directly over the dining-room and everybody was in
there to dinner. I had another coat there and I slipped
that on and hurried down to dinner. Everybody was
talking about Mr. Steunenberg being blown to pieces,
but I never heard a word about the explosion of the
giant-cap in my room. I think everybody was excited
about the explosion and did not hear it, or did not
pay any attention to it.
Now, I cannot tell what came across me. I had
some plaster-Paris and some chloride of potash and
some sugar in my room, also some little bottles, and
screw-eyes, and an electric flashlight, and I knew
there might be some little crumbs of dynamite scat-
219
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
tered around on the floor. I intended to clean the
carpet, and throw this stuff that might look suspicious
all away, and I had plenty of time. But after this cap
exploded in my pocket, something came across me
that I cannot explain, and I seemed to lose my reason-
ing power for the time, and left everything there just
as they were, and at that time I had some letters and
papers in my pockets that would have looked bad and
been hard for me to explain.
I stood around there until about ten o'clock, as the
hotel was jammed full, and in the mean time a special
had come down from Boise, and they were sending
out men to surround the town and telephoning to the
surrounding towns. About twelve o'clock I went up
to Mr. Steunenberg's residence with the hotel clerk
and came back and went to bed, and did not get up
until about eleven o'clock the next day Sunday. I
went down and read the papers, and was sure one of
the suspects referred to was me. Then I destroyed
some letters and papers I had, and began to pull my-
self together, but I thought they were watching me
and I was afraid to start to clean my room or throw
those things away, and thought what a fool I had
been not to have cleaned every suspicious-looking
thing out of my room the night before. I cannot ac-
count for what made me so stupid, as I well knew these
things would look suspicious, and it would be hard
220
THE ASSASSINATION OF STEUNENBERG
for me to explain what I had them for, if I was called
upon to do so.
I just began to realize this and come to myself,
and would have gotten rid of them then had I had
a chance. I did go up to my room and took a fish-line
off a reel I had there and threw it in the water-closet,
as I noticed in the papers that they referred to a fish-
line or cord on the gate at Governor Steunenberg's,
and I had used a piece of this fish-line. I would have
cleaned the room then if I had had time. I could not
throw all this other stuff in the toilet, and was excited
and left it all there, and even left the gun in my grip
which I usually carried. I had always said that I
would not be taken alive, but did not value my life
much anyway, and would sell it as dearly as I could,
if ever suspected of anything and they tried to arrest
me. I am sure they suspected me and I took a walk
up to Mr. Steunenberg's residence with a Caldwell
man, and he said every stranger in town would have
to give an account of himself.
I was sitting in the saloon of the hotel in the after-
noon and a stranger asked me to take a little walk,
and pretended to be acquainted with me. I afterward
learned this was Sheriff Brown, of Baker City, Ore.
I told him he was mistaken, and he told me that they
suspected me of having something to do with the assas-
sination, and he said he told them that he thought
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
he knew me. I told him I would go and see the sheriff
at once, which I did and asked him if he wanted to
see me, and he asked me if I was going away, and
I told him I was not at the present, and he said we
would have a talk after a while. I went over to the
hotel and sat down and in a few minutes the sheriff
came over and said he would have to arrest me. I told
him all right, and he went off and came back in a
few minutes, and told me the governor had ordered
him to take charge of my things that were in my
room, and he said he would parole me and I was not
to leave town or the hotel. I have forgotten which.
Then I thought what a fool I had been to leave all
those things in the room, when I had all kinds of
chances to take them out, and had even let them
get away with my gun. I would have made an attempt
to get away that night, but I knew they were watch-
ing me, and again if I had succeeded in getting
away from the hotel, it was bitter cold and the ground
was covered with snow, and therefore I made no at-
tempt to get away. I knew that they had organized
a committee to investigate, and thought they might
take me before this committee, and ask me to explain
what I had such stuff for, and I was thinking how
I would answer them if they did.
But they said nothing to me until the next day
Monday about four o'clock, when the deputy sheriff
222
THE ASSASSINATION OF STEUNENBERG
asked me to go over to the district attorney's office,
and when I went over there they said they would have
to search me. This is the time I would have used my
gun had I had it. They searched me and the sheriff
read the warrant to me, and they said they wanted me
to go to Boise with them. We went over to the depot
and waited for a while, and then they took me up to
the county jail at Caldwell.
223
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MY EXPERIENCE IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY
I WAS arrested and taken to jail at Caldwell the
evening of the 1st day of January, 1906. I had
never before been arrested. I now began to think
over my past life and what it had brought me to,
and, oh, how I regretted that I had allowed myself
to be arrested, and had not sold my life as dearly as
I could have done, and ended all, as I felt the life
I had lived for the past few years was not worth
living and that I would rather be dead than alive,
and felt there was nothing left for me worth living for,
and why suffer the humiliation in prison. I knew it
meant a long siege at best, and I knew if I succeeded
in clearing myself of this, that I probably would have
to go to Colorado and face other charges there.
I thought of ending all, and that when my dear
mother taught me many long years before about God
and the future life came up to me, and I could not
get these thoughts out of my mind, although I had
denied them for years and tried to forget them^ and
said many times that the hereafter did not trouble
224
IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY
me, and that I did not believe in any hereafter, but
that the grave ended all. But now when this stared
me in the face, and the thought came of taking my
own life, and taking the desperate leap into the great
beyond, from whence there is no return, I knew then
that down deep in my heart I did believe there was
a God and a hereafter, and that I had only been try-
ing to deceive myself all these years, because it an-
swered my wicked purpose better. Now, although I
had read the Bible some when I was young, I had
never read it with enough interest to understand it,
and remembered very little of it, but I thought it
said that no murderer could enter the kingdom of
heaven, or would not be forgiven. This troubled me,
for I felt great remorse of conscience and felt re-
pentant. I tried to keep up the bravado spirit, and
appear unconcerned and deny the charges against me,
but still I thought, if acquitted, the old life was not
worth living, and I wanted to be sure whether there
was hope for me, or forgiveness, or if I had com-
mitted the unpardonable sin. If I had been fully con-
vinced of this and that there was no forgiveness for
me, then I would never have undergone any torture
or imprisonment, as I would have had nothing to
live for.
Haywood and Pettibone had always told me if I
ever got arrested not to wire or write to them, but
225
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
that they would see that I had an attorney to defend
me as soon as it was possible, and when Simpkins left
me he had said, if I got into trouble and had to have
an attorney, he would send Miller or Robinson, of
Spokane. A day or two after I was arrested I got
a telegram from Spokane stating that Attorney Fred
Miller would leave next morning for Caldwell to rep-
resent me. This telegram was not signed, but I un-
derstood it. I waited for three or four days and heard
no word of him, but in the mean time James J. Sul-
livan, an attorney that I knew from Denver and a
personal friend of Pettibone's, came to see me, but
they would not let me talk to him alone. He said he
was going to Baker City on some business, and
stopped off to see if it was me they had arrested. I
felt sure they had sent him to me from headquarters.
I told him I had thought of wiring him, and asked
him if I could engage him to defend me, but he shook
his head, and said it was a long way from home, and
that he would advise me to employ a local attorney,
and said if I wished he would look around and get
me one. I told him I had expected Mr. Miller from
Spokane, and had had a telegram from Spokane a few
days before stating that he would leave the next
morning for Caldwell, but had heard nothing more
from him, and Sullivan said he would wire him and
see if he was coming.
226
r
HARRY ORCHARD
From a photograph taken in January, 1906, shortly after his arrest
for the murder of ex-Governor Steunenberg.
IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY
He sent Mr. Miller the telegram, and he answered
he would leave for Caldwell on the next train, and
he arrived there the next day or so. They let Mr.
Miller see me alone, and he told me that Jack Simp-
kins had sent him, and that he had started when I got
the first telegram. I think he said he got as far as
Walla Walla, and they called him back, as the papers
came out with big head-lines charging the Western
Federation of Miners with the assassination of ex-
Governor Steunenberg, and they did not want it to
appear that any one had been sent by them to de-
fend me, but thought they would wait until I wired
them, because we must make it appear that I was
putting up my own defense, and keep the Federation
out of it. He also said that Robinson had told him
before he left that they might make it appear that
they were engaged by me to sue Dan Cordonia to
recover the interest I had sold him in the Hercules
mine or a part of it, so as to have it look as if they
were my regular attorneys. I spoke about them being
engaged by me before to collect damages from the
railroad company for holding my trunk, but he said
that was too small a matter.
I did not know Mr. Miller very well, having only
met him once, and I told him I was going to put up
my own defense, and had upward of $2,000, and had
friends that would see me through, if this was not
227
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
sufficient. He asked me if I did not have some mining
property, or some friends I could refer him to that
he could make it appear were putting up money for
my defense. I told him I would give him an order
to get the money all right. He said Jack had only
given him $100, and asked me if I did not have
any money there. I told Miller I had only a few dol-
lars there and he said to never mind, he would get
some money from home. I gave him an order, and
told him to see J. J. Sullivan and have him send
the money when he got to Denver. I told him Sullivan
knew Pettibone and would get the money all right.
I also gave him an order, or told him to see Lewis
Cutler, of Salt Lake City, and he would turn him
over a sixth interest in some mining claims he had
at Goldfield, Nev. I had loaned Mr. Cutler a little
money at different times, and he made this proposi-
tion himself the last time I saw him in Salt Lake City.
Mr. Miller stayed until after my preliminary hear-
ing, and I was bound over to the district court with-
out bail. Mr. Miller then left for Spokane, and said
he would be back in a few days, and stay there and
work on the case.
Mr. Swain, of the Thiel detective agency, from
Spokane, came to the sheriff's office at Caldwell, and
they took me out in the office, and he asked me some
questions, and I answered some of them. I told him
228
IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY
I had been in the Coeur d'Alenes, and had been out
hunting with Jack Simpkins just before I came down
here. He asked me if I knew Haywood and Moyer,
and I told him I had seen them and was slightly ac-
quainted with them. I think I also told him that my
name was not Hogan, but Orchard, and that I had
a good reason for going under an assumed name, and
would give the reason at the proper time. I knew I
need not answer any questions, but I thought these
things could be easily proved, and that it would look
better for me to answer them. Later he wanted to
question me further, but I told him I had told him
all I had to say, and he did not trouble me any
more.
I was in Caldwell jail eighteen days and they re-
Amoved me to the State penitentiary at Boise. Mr.
Miller wrote me two or three letters and stated he was
waiting for some mail, and would be down as soon as
it arrived. I think I had been at the penitentiary about
ten days or two weeks, and the warden took me out
into the secretary's office and introduced me to an old
man I have forgotten the name he used. He then
went out and left us alone. I do not remember the first
part of our conversation, but he said he had seen a
paper with my picture in and got permission to come
up and have a talk with me. I asked him who he
was and what he wanted to talk to me for. He told me
289
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
he was a detective, and went on and said perhaps if
he had kept the same kind of company I had, that
perhaps he would have found himself in the same
position I myself was in, but he said he had chosen
the right course. He said he would like to give me
some good advice if I would take it. I told him I did
not object talking to him, but I did not need any
of his advice, and protested my innocence, and said I
was being wrongfully persecuted. He said if I was in-
nocent I was the victim of very unfortunate circum-
stances, and that he thought I had left a bad trail
behind me, and he further said it looked bad for me
going in and out of Denver so much and visiting Fed-
eration headquarters. He further said he did not be-
lieve I did this of my own accord, and that he be-
lieved I was in a position to be of great benefit to the
State. I told him I knew nothing about the assassina-
tion of Mr. Steunenberg whatever, and that I did not
know what he was trying to get at.
He asked me if I had heard of the Mollie Maguires.
I told him I had heard of them, but did not know
much of their history. He started to tell me about
them, and it struck me right away that he was Mc-
Parland, as Haywood had given me a description of
him some time before. I asked him if his name was not
McParland, and he said it was. He then went on and
told me a lot of the history of the Mollie Maguires,
230
DETECTIVE JAMES McPARLAND
IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY
and some of the parts he had played. I listened to him
and said nothing much. I think at first he asked me
about my people and if I believed in a hereafter and
a God. I think I told him I believed in a supreme be-
ing or something like that. He also told me he believed
I had been used as a tool. I think that was about the
substance of what he said to me the first time he came
up, and he asked me to think these things over when
I went back to my cell. I protested my innocence all
through, and told him I had nothing to think over.
He told me I would be convicted of that crime, and
that I would think of the words he had told me after-
ward. I told him I had no fear of being convicted.
When he left he said that perhaps he would come
up and see me again. I told him that it helped to pass
away the time, and was a little more comfortable, or
was a change.
I think it was two or three days when he came back
again, and I think he started in on my belief in the
hereafter, and spoke of what an awful thing it was
to live and die a sinful life, and that every man ought
to repent of his sins, and that there was no sin that
God would not forgive. He spoke of King David being
a murderer, and also the Apostle Paul. This inter-
ested me very much, but I did not let on to him. I
think I asked him a little about this, and he told me
about King David falling in love with Uriah's wife,
231
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
and ordering Joab, the general of his army, to put
Uriah in the thick of the battle, and then ordering
the rest to retreat, so he would be killed ; and of St.
Paul, who was then called Saul, consenting to the
death of Stephen, and holding the young men's coats
while they stoned him to death. I wanted to ask more
about these things, but did not want to let on that
they interested me. He also told me of some cases
where men had turned State's evidence, and that when
the State had used them for a witness, they did not
or could not prosecute them. He said, further, that
men might be thousands of miles from where a mur-
der took place and be guilty of the murder, and be
charged with conspiracy, and that the man that com-
mitted the murder was not as guilty as the conspira-
tors, and, to say in a word, he led me to believe that
there was a chance for me, even if I were guilty of
the assassination of Mr. Steunenberg, if I would tell
the truth, and he also urged me to think of the here-
after and the awful consequences of a man dying
in his sins. He further said he was satisfied I had only
been used as a tool, and he was sure the Western
Federation of Miners were behind this, and that they
were about to their limit, and had carried their work
on with a high hand, but that their foundation had
begun to crumble, as all such must that followed a
policy that they had. He said further that they had
IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY
had a gang of murderers at their head ever since their
organization. He told me plainly he could not make
me any promises, and if he did he could not fulfil
them, but he said he would have the prosecuting at-
torney come up and have a talk with me. I told
him that he need not trouble, I had not told him
anything nor had I promised to at this time, but I
told him to come up again the next day and I would
let him know if I had anything to tell him.
I went back to my cell that night and tried to pray,
and thought I would do almost anything if God would
forgive my sins. But my past life would come up
before me like a mountain, and I feared there was no
chance for me. I thought, though the authorities in
Idaho would let me go clear if I gave evidence and
told the real men responsible for the murder of Mr.
Steunenberg, that there were so many other crimes
that I was guilty of that there would never be any
chance for me. The only real hope I could see for me
was to make a clean breast of all, and ask God to
forgive me, but I felt very uncertain about this and
prayed to God in a half-hearted way, and I felt a
little hope at times, and then I would doubt, and think
of self. I knew well the methods of detectives, and did
not believe many things Mr. McParland told me;
but my mind was in such a state, as I have before told
you, I cared little what did become of me, and did
233
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
not want to live any longer the old life, and when I
would think of doing away with myself, the awful
hereafter would stare me in the face, and something
seemed to say to me that there was still hope. But
I could not bear the thought of being locked up and
every hour seemed like a month to me.
Now I had thought before I ever saw Mr. Mc-
Parland of making a clean breast of all, but I would
rather have him get the evidence than any one I
knew, for the reason I knew his reputation, and knew
there would be nothing left undone to run down every-
thing I gave him. Then there came a doubt in my
mind that this might not be Mr. McParland. I told
him this when he came up the next day, and as he
wore an Elk charm and I knew the Elks always car-
ried a card that they used to make themselves known
to a brother Elk, I asked him if he would mind let-
ting me look at his Elk's card to satisfy myself that
he was Mr. McParland, and he handed me his card,
as he said no Elk was ashamed to show his card.
After I was satisfied of this, I told him I was going
to tell him all, and that he need not send the prose-
cuting attorney up ; that I would not ask any pledges,
but would tell the truth, and felt I did not deserve
any consideration, and cared very little what became
of me.
I told him I would tell him my life's history, and
234
IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY
we talked over a part of my career that day, but
nothing in connection with this case, and the next
day Mr. McParland came up, and the clerk in the
penitentiary took down my statement. I began at the
first of my early life, and finished with the assassina-
tion of Mr. Steunenberg, but I kept a few things back
that I thought too horrible to tell. We were three
days at this. There were some things that no one in
this country knew anything of, but I told them and
in a way felt somewhat relieved. I felt that I had
taken the right step, but when I thought of the awful
ordeal I would have to go through to carry this out,
and that I must face these men and give evidence
that perhaps would send us all to the gallows, it
seemed terrible to me. Sometimes I would think per-
haps they would only send me to the penitentiary for
life, and this I thought would be worse than being
hanged, and that I would prefer the latter. I tried
to pray and ask forgiveness, but this only in a half-
hearted way. Sometimes I felt a little relieved, but
other times I doubted, and I was very much in doubt
whether God would forgive such a sinner, and I
thought I would have to go through some long
lamentation, and the greater the sinner the greater
the sacrifice would have to be on my part. I wanted
a Bible, but would not ask for it, and I did not
want it known that I wanted to repent of my sins.
235
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
I longed to read the Bible, but did not want any
one to see me doing so, and every day seemed al-
most like a year.
During this time, or about the 20th of February,
1906, they brought Hay wood, Moyer, and Pettibone
to the penitentiary and a day or so later they brought
Steve Adams. I had told them about Adams being
mixed up in other things besides what he was mixed
up with me. The warden asked me before he brought
Adams in if I thought best to put him in my cell,
and for me to have a talk with him and persuade him
to tell the truth. I told him I would do the best I
could, and that I would tell him that I had told every-
thing, but not at first, until I found out how he felt
about it.
When Adams first came into the cell he did not
let on that he knew me, or while the warden or guards
were there, but after they left he began to talk to me
and he spoke about my having made a confession. I
laughed it off and partly denied it, but said I thought
of doing so, and told him I thought it would be bet-
ter for us to tell the truth and clear everything up
and be done with it, as it was bound to come out some
time, as so many knew about the crimes that we had
been mixed up in, and that somebody was bound to
tell of them some time if not while they were up
and around, some one would make a death-bed con-
IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY
fession ; and I told him I was tired of such a life and
wanted to reform and ask God's forgiveness.
He said at first that he could not think of such a
thing and spoke of the disgrace it would bring upon
his people, and that there would be no chance for us
at all, and he wanted me to go on through the trials
and then we would tell those fellows to cut that kind
of work out. I wanted him to lead a better life, and
told him I could not rest, and that my conscience
troubled me so that I did not want to live unless I
could repent and be forgiven, and that I did not feel
as though I could repent of my wrong-doing unless
I told all, and made all the earthly restitution that
was within my power to society, and clear my own
conscience. He thought I would not feel any better
after I had confessed all. I also told him there might
be a chance for us to save our lives, as we had only
been used as tools.
I talked to him, I think, two days on about the same
lines, and he did not change his mind much, if any,
and finally I told him that I had made a statement
and told about all, and he asked me if I had told them
about him. At first I told him that I had not, and
he asked me to promise him that I would not, and I
think at first I told him I would, but I finally told him
that I had made a clean breast of everything, and
told them all about the things he had been implicated
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
in and wanted him to tell the truth. He said at first
he did not see how he could go that kind of a route,
and asked me if they had promised me anything. I
told him I did not ask them to, but I told him the
party that I had made my confession to had cited
similar cases, and that those that had been used as
tools, as we had been, had not been prosecuted. I also
told him that I did not know if this were true or not.
After I had told him all, I said to him to do as he
pleased, but that I had told the truth and was going
to stand by it, let the consequences be what they
would to myself or any one else.
I told him the warden wanted to have a talk with
him, and to go out and have a talk with him, and
a few minutes afterward the warden came in and
asked him to go out in the office, and he did. When
he came back in he said the warden was a pretty good
talker. I think that same afternoon Mr. Moore,
Adams's attorney from Baker City, Ore., came up to
see him. He did not tell me what he said to him, but
a friend and neighbor of his named Bond, from
Haines, came with Mr. Moore, and Steve told me that
Bond had advised him, if he knew anything or had
been used as a tool to commit any crimes, to tell the
truth or that would be his advice to him. Adams
told me after that Moore had told him the State
hardly ever prosecuted any one they used as a witness,
IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY
and he said he thought he would do as I had done
and tell the truth. He said that Moore had gone to
Colorado to see the governor and find out if they
would take Steve back there if he became a witness
in this trial.
Mr. McParland came here the next afternoon and
I had a talk with him and told him I thought Adams
would make a confession, but perhaps not until after
Moore had come back from Colorado ; so Adams went
out in the office and had a talk with Mr. McParland,
and he told him he would make a confession and tell
the truth in everything, and the next day Mr. Mc-
Parland and his private secretary came up and took
down his confession. I do not think there were any
threats or promises of any kind used. Adams never
told me if there were.
I was taken sick a little after this and they moved
me over in the hospital, and a day or two later they
moved Adams over there, too, and we had a room
together. My mind was in an awful condition about
this time. I felt that I did not want to live, and was
afraid to die. A little before Haywood, Moyer, and
Pettibone were arrested, Miller, my attorney, came
back and came to see me, and I never let on to him
I had made any confession. He told me he had been
to Denver, that he had waited several days in Spo-
kane and they did not send him the money, and he
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
thought best to go and see them. He said Jack Simp-
kins was keeping close, that they were hard on his
trail. I asked him where he was, but he did not tell
me, if he knew. He said he got $1,500 from Pettibone,
and he said they were all scared, and he said Pettibone
told him if he could use his deposition, all right, but
that he would not go to Idaho as a witness.
Miller further said he stopped in Salt Lake City
and saw Lewis Cutler about the interest in the min-
ing claims at Goldfield, Nev., and Cutler told him
he would turn it over to me any time. Miller got me
a suit of clothes and some other little articles, and
came to see me two or three times before Haywood,
Moyer, and Pettibone were arrested, and then he put
a piece in the paper that he would withdraw from
my case and defend the Federation officials. I sent him
a letter that that would suit me all right, but he
came up to see me after. I did not see him the first
time. But he came again and the warden brought him
in the hospital to see me, and he said the newspaper
report was false, that he had not stated he would
withdraw from my case. I told him that I had made
other arrangements, and would not require his services
any longer.
Mr. McParland came up a few days later and said
they wanted me to go to Caldwell before the Grand
Jury and give some evidence. So I went to Caldwell
240
IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY
before the Grand Jury, and told them the conversa-
tion I had had with Moyer, Haywood, and Pettibone
in regard to assassinating Mr. Steunenberg, and
how I carried out the assassination. I came back
then, and about a week later Mr. McParland came
up again, and told me I would have to go to Cald-
well again and plead to the indictment, or at least
to go before the court. He said he would make ar-
rangements and have an attorney there to repre-
sent me.
The next day I went to Caldwell, and no one said
anything more to me, and when I went into court
they read the indictment to me, and I expected Mr.
McParland had made arrangements for an attorney
to represent me, and that he would answer for me,
but no one answered for me, and the judge then asked
me if I had counsel, and no one said anything. He
asked me then if I wished an attorney, and I told him
no, and he said I was entitled to one, and he would
appoint Bryant and Cox to represent me, and that
I could take the statutory time to plead. Mr. Bryant
and I went down in the sheriff's office, but I told him
nothing of what I had done. I thought after the con-
fession, as I intended to tell the truth, I was going
to plead guilty, but Mr. Bryant told me there were
three pleas I could enter, guilty, not guilty, or not
plead at all. I told him I would make no plea then,
241
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
and we went up before the court then, and I told the
judge I had no plea to make and he instructed the
clerk to enter a plea of not guilty.
I came back to the penitentiary that night, and felt
pretty blue, and felt as though I did not have a friend
in the world, after Mr. McParland not keeping his
word in regard to getting me an attorney, and taking
me into court like a dummy, and I not knowing what
to say or do. I came back feeling more blue than ever,
and, to finish up everything, when I came back that
night to the penitentiary, they had my things moved
back out of the hospital into a cell, and, as it was
pretty cold there, and I was not feeling very well
physically and worse mentally, I just broke down
again and felt like giving up entirely.
I did not get up the next day, and really con-
templated putting myself out of the way, and wrote
a letter to my brother and put it between the lining
of my vest, and I told Adams if anything happened
to me to send this letter to my brother, and that he
would find the address on the letter. I think I told him
I had something there to put myself out of the way
with, but I had nothing in particular only my watch
crystal. I was thinking of pounding this or the elec-
tric globe up and swallowing it, but I hardly knew
what effect it would have. I had heard of people
pounding up glass and killing dogs with it, and I
IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY
had not made up my mind definitely. I was only
thinking about it. When I would think of the here-
after, something seemed to say to me not to do it,
but there was hope for me, and I would pray, but
oh, I had no heart to pray. But I am sure now, that
I had dear ones praying for me and God heard their
prayers, and kept me from making the last desperate
leap into the Great Beyond. I was not very well and
the cells were very cold and the warden moved us back
in the hospital.
Shortly after this Steve told his wife about my writ-
ing this letter, and she told the warden, and Mr. Mc-
Parland and Governor Gooding came up to see me,
and Mr. McParland asked me about it, and told me
he understood I had the means of destruction on my
person, and that he wanted me to give it to him. I
told him what I had thought of, but that I had not
thought seriously of it, and that he need have no
fear, as I felt better. He talked to me about the here-
after, and that to do or to think of such a thing
was awful, and that there was no possible hope then ;
but said if I would truly and sincerely repent and
pray for forgiveness that there was no sin that God
would not forgive. He told me he had been praying
nearly all day, as he had had word that his nephew,
whom he thought a great deal of, had been killed
in a wreck near Florence, Col., and had been virtu-
243
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
ally burned alive. His talk helped me a great deal,
and I felt ashamed of myself, and also felt provoked
at Adams for telling such a thing ; and I don't think
that I ever would have carried it out, as I was not
sure that it would have killed me, and I had not fully
decided to do it. If I had had a gun I believe there
were times when I would have ended all.
Soon after this some missionary society in Chicago
sent me a Bible, and the deputy brought it in to me,
and I felt mean and told him to take it out, as I did
not want it, and at the same time I longed for it, but
did not want any one to know or see me reading it.
I had been trying to pray and ask forgiveness of my
many sins, but in a very half-hearted way, and I felt
more miserable than ever then, and resolved I would
ask for this Bible, but kept putting it off from day
to day. At last I asked the warden to bring it in
to me, and I began to read it. I was not long read-
ing it through, and I could not find anything in it
that said no murderer could enter the kingdom of
heaven, and I prayed earnestly for forgiveness, and
read and reread the glorious promises, and deter-
mined not to give up before I found peace and par-
don. True, I was long weeks and months before I
found the light or even the dawn, but I kept praying
and persevering. I had no thought of turning back ;
I never doubted God's word and promises, I only
1*4
IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY
doubted because of my own weakness. This peace
crept in a little at a time, and I can hardly tell when
or how, but I at last began to realize the change, and
took great delight in reading the Bible and pray-
ing earnestly to God several times a day. I had it
in my head I was such a sinner that I had to go
through some long lamentation, and the greater the
sin, the more God would require of us before He
would forgive us.
Mr. McParland had asked me if I would like to
have a minister come up and see me, and I told him
I would. He asked me if I would like to have Rev.
Dean Hinks of the Episcopal Church. He said he
had met him, and thought he was a good man, and
he came up to see me, and has come occasionally ever
since, and has been a great comfort and help to me
spiritually. He also brought me several good books
that have enlightened me very much, and thank God
to-day that I know I am a sinner saved by grace,
through no good merits of mine, but all through
the blood of Jesus Christ, our blessed Saviour and
Redeemer. I do not mean to say that I have all clear
sailing, far from it. I have one continual battle to
overcome my wicked and deceitful heart, but I praise
God that His grace is sufficient.
I thought at first that this was not right, and that
God had not forgiven me. These thoughts would arise
245
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
in my mind, and I thought this had not ought to
be. I had no desire to do them, but I would think of
them often and try to get them out of my mind, and
I praise God they don't arise as much as they used
to. But I have found as I read the experience of many
noble, good men in the books, in which they give their
experience, that Jesus Christ is the only way that we
can approach God's throne and plead His mercy, as
Jesus is our mediator and redeemer, who took upon
Himself our sins. It all seems clear to me now.
I only give this as my experience, hoping that it
may help some one if they have or should have a
similar struggle. I would not go through such re-
morse and torment again for all the world. This may
seem an exaggeration to some, but it is true, never-
theless. Any one that has had such a struggle and
prevailed can readily grasp the truth of my state-
ment.
I will now tell you what I believe saved me. It was
the prayers of a dear loving wife, whom I had shame-
fully and disgracefully left many years before with
a darling little baby girl about six months old. As I
have related how this came about, I need not repeat
here, only to say that when God took away the bit-
terness out of my heart and let His love shine in, then
the former love I had for my wife returned, stronger
than ever, if that were possible, and I longed to know
246
IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY
if she was alive, or what had become of her and our
little baby girl, as my mind was made up then to tell
the whole truth regardless of the consequences to my-
self or anybody else.
I knew I would have to tell my true name, and then
all would come out, and I asked Mr. McParland to
write to Road Macklon, Brighton, Ontario, Canada,
and ask him if he knew anything about Albert E.
Horsley or his wife. Mr. McParland wrote to Mr.
Macklon, but he was dead, but Mrs. Macklon an-
swered and said that nothing was known of me. I was
supposed to have gone West several years before,
but that Mrs. Horsley and her daughter lived at
Wooler. I then wrote my dear wife and told her the
trouble I was in, and asked her to forgive me. I also
told her that I had accepted Jesus Christ as my
Saviour and found peace at last. I got a letter from
her that broke my heart, but only made me cling closer
to the Crucified One. She said that she had forgiven
me years ago, and had never ceased to pray for me
and never would. I will leave the reader to imagine
the rest she said to me. I will only say further that
there never was a harsh word written in any of her
letters, and her dear letters and those of our darling
little girl from time to time have been a great source
of comfort to me, and they make me cling closer to
Jesus, knowing if I never am permitted to meet them
247
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
here below again, I can meet them up yonder where
meeting and parting will be no more, if I am faithful
until death, and this makes heaven seem dearer than
ever to me.
After I had read my Bible a good deal and felt
my sins forgiven, I tried to talk to Steve Adams and
his wife to reform and lead a new life, and, although
I hardly knew what to say to them as yet, I was some-
what in doubt myself. They had the same answer that
so many have, that they intended to, as soon as they
got out of that trouble they were going to join the
church and live better lives. Steve and his wife lived
over in a house in the woman's ward, and I went over
there for a time and had my meals with them, and I
talked some to them of my experience and determina-
tion to lead a new life from this time, and tried to
persuade them to do the same. After Steve went to
Telluride, Col., with the officers, to locate the bodies
of two men who had been murdered there by the
Federation leaders, and which Steve had helped to
bury, they brought my meals in to me from that
time, and I saw Steve only on Saturdays after this,
except a time or two when I went over there on Sun-
day. He came to the men's department on Saturday
forenoon while the women took a bath. I never have
gone around among the men here much. I usually
stayed in my room, or was out walking by myself.
248
IN JAIL AND PENITENTIARY
When Steve came in the yard on Saturday, at first
he always came up where I was, and we talked to-
gether, but all at once he stopped coming around
where I was at all, and when he came over in the men's
yard, he would stay down in the yard and talk to
some of the men. I asked Mr. Whitney if he knew
what Steve was offended at, and he said he did not.
He had always told me that he was glad that he had
told all, and believed we would come out all right,
and his wife expressed herself that way, too; but I
knew from little things they would say from time to
time that they blamed me for telling all and getting
them into this trouble, and Mrs. Adams said if she
had been here she would have stopped Steve from tell-
ing anything, and without them they could never con-
vict Haywood, Moyer, and Pettibone. I never said
much back to them at such times, and other times
they would say they were glad to have it over with.
Mrs. Adams knew about a great many of these crimes,
as Steve told her everything.
Steve's brother Joe came later, and also Mary
Mahoney, a woman from Telluride, Col., and they sent
letters to Steve, and Joe would slip them to Steve
when he was visiting him. Steve would show these to
the officials here and laugh about them. They were
trying to get him to see the Federation lawyers, and
told him in these notes that it made no difference what
249
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
he had told, that they could not use it against him,
and that they were his friends and would stand by
him. Steve paid no attention to these things at first,
but his uncle, Mr. Lillard, who had been here several
times to see him, came up and had dinner with them,
and the next day or so the Federation lawyers got
out a writ of habeas corpus for Steve, and he was re-
leased, but immediately arrested and afterward taken
to Wallace, Idaho, and charged with the murder
of a man by the name of Tyler. He had told me all
about killing Tyler and Boule and the others that
were with him. Simpkins also told me the same story,
and showed me where they killed Boule, when I was
up there hunting with him. I know Steve Adams and
his wife told the truth in everything that I knew
about, though there were many things that he had
told me that he had done of which I did not have per-
sonal knowledge, but he told them in his confession
just the same as he had told me, and I have not the
least doubt but what he told the whole truth, and
would have stood by it if they had not brought some
pressure to bear upon him. What this was I do not
know.
250
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MY REASON FOR WRITING THIS BOOK
I HAVE been severely criticized by a certain class
for writing this awful story of mine, and I want
to make a little explanation here why I do so.
I have not written it through any malice or prejudice
against any individual or organization, but knowing
all that I did through my connection with the Western
Federation of Miners, after I had been brought into
the light in and through the tender mercies of our
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ I felt it a duty that
I owed to God and humanity to do all that laid in
my power to expose and stop these crimes and out-
rages. I hope I will be excused for these broken words,
but let the reader remember that my education is very
limited. By the help of God I have undertaken to
put these facts before the public, that it may enlighten
the great masses of the laboring class, and especially
the members of the Western Federation of Miners,
so that the rank and file of this organization may
know just what sort of leaders they have been fol-
251
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
lowing all these years, and also what a great amount
of their money has been spent for. I know that these
outrages and crimes look too horrible to be believed,
and most of them would appear to do more harm than
good to the organization, but this is the very point,
for this helped them to get out of many of the charges
that have been laid at their door, and they always
have succeeded in making it appear that the mine
operators had hired men to commit these outrages so
as to persecute them.
I believe that a very small percentage of the Fed-
eration know or believe these crimes have been com-
mitted from time to time with the sanction and at the
request of the head officers of their organization.
These leaders were always very particular to get men
on the executive board that favored this work, and
if they were not active they favored it by their silence.
I have no doubt but some of them kept silent out of
fear for their lives, but many were very active in ad-
vancing this work. You may say that the books were
always audited at every convention, but the executive
board had gone over them first, and they had them
fixed so no auditing committee could find out any-
thing about this emergency fund, and it would take
months to go over these accounts during some of the
time when there were strikes. A half a million dollars
or thereabouts have been handled during a year, and
252
MY REASON FOR WRITING THIS BOOK
several stores run, and relief dealt out to thousands
in small amounts so you must see at a glance how
impossible it is for any auditing committee to audit
these accounts in a few days. As the delegates are
all miners and not experts at this work, they could
not find out much about the accounts, and would run
over the accounts in three or four days and hand in
their reports, which were more a form than real au-
diting. The leaders in these conventions had no trouble
in running the convention, and the local unions usu-
ally sent their leaders to these conventions as dele-
gates.
Now I know during the last four years that there
has been a vast amount of money spent for this work.
I have received about $4,000 myself, besides $1,600
paid to Miller by Pettibone and Simpkins to defend
me; but what has been paid to us tools to actually
do the work has been only a small amount of it. The
bills of the attorneys that have been employed to de-
fend the men engaged in this work, and also the offi-
cers from time to time, will run up perhaps in the
hundreds of thousands.
Now I have told my story on the witness-stand in
the trial of Haywood not because I wanted>to take
him or any of these men down with me, but because
I could see no other way for me to do what I believed
was my solemn duty. I never felt that I would be
253
CONFESSIONS OF HARRY ORCHARD
forgiven by God until I fully decided on this course.
I know many men that were marked for death, and
had every reason to believe that sooner or later the
plan to kill them would be carried out, and perhaps
some other man would find himself in the same posi-
tion that I am in to-day. This work had been going
on before Haywood and Moyer were at the head of the
Western Federation of Miners, and before I knew
anything about it, and I had every reason to believe
that it would continue. I could see no other way that
I could make earthly restitution to society for my
wrong-doing, except to publicly confess all, regard-
less of the consequences of myself or any one else.
My sympathy is with all those that were connected
with me in these horrible outrages against God's
creatures. I pray continually for them that they may
see the error of their way before it is eternally too
late.
I have told the truth in this awful trial. God alone
has given me strength to openly confess to those
crimes. My conscience is clear. I know I have done
what was right and made all the earthly restitution
that is within my power. Mr. Haywood has been ac-
quitted. I can truthfully say I would far rather see
him acquitted than hanged. I believe the trial will do
much good, as I do not believe these leaders of the
Federation will take a chance again with any one
254
MY REASON FOR WRITING THIS BOOK
for the sake of revenge upon those that oppose this
organization. My earnest prayer is in closing this
awful tale, that it will be the means of stopping this
kind of work forever.
THE END
255
CENTRAL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY
University of California, San Diego
DATE DUE
JU1M 1Z iyU
JUN 3 1980
NOV 1 2 1980
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t/CSD Liftr.
L| BRARY FACILITY
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