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Full text of "John Wilkes Booth; escape and wanderings until final ending of the trail by suicide at Enid, Oklahoma, January 12, 1903"

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I 



The Escape and Wand- 
erings of J. Wilkes Booth 
Until Ending of the 
Trail by Suicide 
in Oklahoma 



The Way of the 
Transgressor is Hard 



PRICE $2.00 



1 1 t"— 



Copyright 1922 
BY W. P- CAMPBELL 
Oklahoma City. Okla. 
All Rights Reserved 



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Capt. E. P. Dougherty in command of 
Pursuing Party. 




Lieutenant L. B. Baker, Col. L. C. Baker and Everton 

Conger planning systematic effort to capture 

Booth and Herrold. 



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The Nine "Conspirators." 




Julius Brutus Booth, broth- Julius Brutus Booth, Sr., 
er of J. Wilkes Booth father of J. Wilkes Booth. 




THE lamurpiED han-d of john wilkes boots. 

AS Read By Prof Bentley Sage. 




"John St. Helen," 1877 





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Finis L. Bates, IS77 



W . I'. Campbell, 1921 



Oklahoma the Mecca for Men of Mystery 



JOHN WILKES BOOTH 

ESCAPE AND WANDERINGS UNTIL FINAL ENDING 

OF THE TRAIL BY SUICIDE AT ENID, 

OKLAHOMA, JANUARY 12, 19C3 




 pursuit and Baker was ordered to the quarter- 
master's oflFice to arrange transportation down the Potomac. 
On the return of Lieut. Baker he was informed that he 
and E. J. Conger and other detectives were to have 
charge of the party. 

These three men held a conference in which Col. Baker 
explained his theory of the whereabouts of Booth and 
Herrold. In half an hour Lieut. Edword F. Daugherty of 
the 16th New York cavalry, with twenty-five men, Ser- 
geant Boston Corbett second in command, reported to 
Col. Baker for duty, having been directed to go with him 
and Conger wherever they might order. Lieut. Baker and 
his men galloped post haste down the Sixth street dock and 
hurried on the government tug John S. Ide at 3 o'clock 
and that same afternoon the tug reached Belle Plain, land- 
ing where there was a sharp point in the river. Col. Baker 
scoured the river between there and the Rhappahanock. 
On disembarking Conger and Daugherty rode nhead, I>ieut. 
Baker and his men following within hailing distance. They 
stepped at the homes of prominent Confederates to make 
inquiry, saying they were being pursued by the Yankees 
and in crossing the river had become separated from two 
of their men, one being lame, but no one admitted having 
seen them. At dawn the men shed their disguise and halted 
for rest and refreshments. 

Again in their saddles they struck across the country 
toward Port Conway on the Rhappahanock about twenty 
miles below Fredericksburg. About three o'clock they drew 
rein in front of a planter's home half a mile from town 
and ordered dinner for themselves and horses. Conger who 
was suffering from nn old wound was about all in and he 
and the others, except Baker and a corporal, dropped down 
on the road-side for a brief rest. Baker fearing that the 
presence of the scoiiting party might give warning to Booth 
and companions should they be hiding in the neighborhood, 
pushed on to the bank of the Rhappahanock, where he saw 
dozing in the sunshine a fisherman in front of a small 
cottage, his name being Rollins. He was asked if he had 
seen a lame man cross the river within the past few days^ 
to which the iii^n answered that he had, and there were 
other men with him; that he had ferried them across the 
river. Baker produced his photographs and Rollins pointed 
out the pictures of Booth and Herrold. These men, he 
said, were the men. except "this one" pointing to Booth's 
picture, "had no moustache." 

"With this information Baker felt satisfied that he had 
struck a hot trail; that with all the vast army of detectives 
he was within a touchdown of the goal. He at once sent 
the corporal back with orders for Conger and his men to 



WANDERINGS OF .1 WILKES BOOTH 11 

come up without delay. After the corporal had left the 
fisherman, Rollins, explained that the men had hired him 
to ferry tliem across the river on the previous afternoon 
and that just before startinjr three men rode up and 
greeted the fujiitives. Rollins said he knew the three men 
well; that they were Major M. B. Ruggles, Lieut. Bain- 
bridge and Capt. Jett, of Mosby's command. On being 
asked where they went this fisherman drawled out: 

"Well, this Capt. Jett has a lady love at Bowling 
Green and I reckon he went over there." As the cavalry 
came up Baker told Rollins he would have to accompany 
them to Bowling Green as a guide, to which Rollins objected 
on the ground that he would incur the hatred of his 
neighbors, none of whom favored the Union cause. "But 
you might make me your prisoner," with a slow drawl, 
"and thfn I would have to go." 

Rollins' old ferry boat was shaky, and although the 
loading was done with the greatest dispatch it took three 
trips to get the detachment across, when the march for 
Bowling Green began. Baker and Conger who were riding 
ahead saw two horsemen standing motionless on the top of 
a hill their black forms showing well against the sky — 
probablj' Bainbridge and Ruggles, and Conger and Baker 
at once spotted them as friends of Booth who had in some 
way got wind that a searching party was near. Baker 
signalled the horsemen for a parley, but instead they put 
their necks to their horses withers and hastily sralLncd up 
the road. Baker and Conger made ch^r -. but 'he two 
horsemen at full speed dashed away, and ju:-h as ih'^y were 
about to be overtaken dashed into a blind trail leading from 
the main road into the forest, they possibly being on vigil 
to warn Booth, who was at the Garrett home, of approach- 
ing danger. The pursuers held a briff cnr.ferf^nce, deciding 
not to follow farther but to reach Bowling Green as soon 
as possible. These men. Baker and CmTei- say they were 
afterwards informed, were Bainbridge aiul Rugjrles and that 
Booth at the time was less than half a mile away lying on 
the grass at the Garrett home. Baker says also that Booth 
saw his pursuers as they neared his hiding place. Baker 
and Conger believed Booth to be at Bowling Green fifteen 
miles away, and so they pushed on. 

It was nearinir midnight when the searching party 
clattered into Bowling Green, and with scarcrlv a spoken 
command surrounded the dark rambling hotel, Baker to the 
front door and Conger to the rear from which came the 
dismal barking of a dosr. Presently a light flickered and 
some one opened the door and inquired in a frightened 
female voice what was wanted. Baker thrust his toe inside 
and flinging the door open was confronted by a lone 



12 WANDERINGS OF J. WILKES BOOTH 



woman. At this moment Conger came through the back 
way led by a negro. The woman admitted at once that 
there was a Confederate cavalryman sleeping in the house 
and pointed out the room. With candle in hand Baker and 
Conger at once entered: Captain Jett sat up, staring at 
them: 

"What do you want?" At which he was informed that 
he was wanted. "You took Booth across the river," said 
Conger, "and you know where he is.'' Jett declared that 
they were mistaken — were barking up the wrong tree, as 
he rolled out of bed. 

"You lie," shouted Conger springing forward with 
pistol close to Jett's head. By this time the cavalrymen 
had crowded into the room and Jett caught sight of the 
light glinting against their brass buttons and on their 
drawn revolvers. Jett assured them on his honor as a' 
gentleman that he would tell them all he knew if they 
would promise to shield him from all complicity in the 
matter. 

"Yes, if we catch Booth," was Conger's answer. 

"Booth is at the Garrett home three miles this side of 
Port Conway," said Jett, "if you came that way you must 
have frightened him off." 

In less than thirty minutes the pursuing party was 
doubling back over the road they had just traveled, with 
Jett and Rollins as prisoners, the bridle reins of the 
horses ridden by them fastened to the men on either side. 
It was a black night, no moon, no stars, and the dust rose 
in choking clouds. For two days the men had eaten little 
and slept less and they were worn out so they could scarcely 
sit on their jaded horses and yet they plunged and stumbled 
on through the darkness over fifteen miles of meandering 
road, reaching the Garrett home about 4 o'clock on the 
morning of April 26. 

Like many other southern homes the Garrett home 
stood far back from the road with only a bridle gate at 
the end of a long lane. So exhausted were the cavalrymen 
that some of them dropped in the sand when their horses 
stopped, and had to be kicked into -wakefulness. Rollins 
and Jett were placed under guard while Baker and Conger 
made a dash up the lane, some of the cavalrymen following. 
Garrett's home was an old fashioned southern one, with a 
wide plaza reaching full length in front, and with barns 
and tobacco houses looming up big and dark, apart. 

Baker leaped from his horse to the steps and thundered 
on the door. A moment later a window was cautiously 
opened and a man thrust his head out. Before he could 
say a word Baker seized his hand with: "Open the door 
and be quick about it." The man tremblingly complied and 



WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 13 



Baker stepped inside and closed the door behind him. A 
candle was quickly lighted and Baker demanded Garrett 
to reveal the hiding place of the men who had been staying 
at his house. 

"They are gone to the woods," the old gentleman 
replied. At this Baker thrust his revolver in Garrett's 
face: "Don't tell me that.'' 

Just at this point Conger came in with young Garrett 
wiio explained to them that if they would not harm his 
father he would tell them where the fugitives were. He 
said the men did go to the woods last evening when some 
cavalry passed by but came back and wanted them to take 
them over to Lauisa Court House. Continuing, young Gar- 
rett told Baker that they could not leave home before 
morning, if at all; that they were becoming suspicious of 
the strangers, and th;«t his father told them he could not 
harbor them. Baker here interrupted with a demand to 
know where they were, at which young Garrett replied 
that his l)rother Iiad locked them in the barn fearing they 
might steal the horses, and he was then watching them in 
the barn. Baker asked no further questions but taking 
young Garrett by the arm made a dash toward the barn, 
when Conger ordered the cavalrymen to follow and formed 
them in such position around the barn that no one could 
escape. By this time the soldiers had found the boy guard- 
in" the barn and had brought him out with the key. Baker 
unlocked tlie door ;ind told the boy that as the men were 
his guests he must go inside and induce thera to come out 
and surrender. But the boy faltered, declaring that the 
men were armed to the teeth and that they would shoot 
him down. But he discovered that he was looking into 
the black mouth of Baker's revolver, and hastily slid 
through tile doorway. 

There was a sudden rustle of corn blades and voices 
in low conver.sation. \]\ around the soldiers were picketed 
wrapped in inky blackness and uttering no sound. In the 
midst of a little circle of light Baker stood at the doorway 
with drawn revolver, while Conger had gone to the rear. 

During the heat and excitement of the chase Baker had 
as.'-utned command of the cavalrvmen somewhat to the 
umbrage of T-ieut. Daugherty, who kept himself in the 
background during the remainder of the night. Farther 
away in the Garrett home the family huddled, trambling 
and frightened. 

Suddenly from within the barn a clear loud voice rang 
out. "You have betrayed me. Leave at once or I will 
shoot you." 

Baker then called to the men in the barn to turn over 
their arms to young Garrett and surrender at once, declar- 



14. WANDERINGS OF .1. WILKES BOOTH 



ing that if they didn't the barn would be fired and there 
would be a shooting match. At this young Garrett came 
rushing to the door begging to be let out. He said he 
would do anything he could but did not want to risk his 
life in the presence of two desperate nnen. Baker opened 
the door and young Garrett rushed out with a bound. He 
pointed to the candle Baker had in his hand, with: "Put 
that out or he will shoot you by its light," whispered in a 
frightened tone. Baker placed the candle on the ground a 
short distance from the door so it would light the space 
in front of the door, then called to Booth to surrender, who 
in a clear full voice replied that there was a man in those 
who wished to surrender, in which he was heard to speak 
the name of Herrold. "Leave, will you? Go. I don't 
want you to stay." At the door Herrold was whimpering 
— "let me out, let me out. I know nothing about this man 
in here." (In fact, did he?) Baker informed Herrold that 
if he would put out his arms he could surrender; but the 
poor frightened wretch hadn't any arms, and Baker wa.s 
so assured by Booth. "The arms are mine," shouted Booth, 
"and I shall keep them." By this time Herrold was pray- 
ing piteously to be let out lest he be shot. Baker opened 
the door a trifle and ordered Herrold to put his hands out, 
which he did, and the moment his hands passed through the 
door tliey were seized by Baker and Herrold was whipped 
out and turned over to the soldiers. "You had better come 
out too,'' said Baker to Booth, who inquired to know who 
Baker was; that he wanted to know if he was being taken 
by his friends or by his enemies. "It makes no difference 
who we .■Tt," was the curt reply, "We know and want you. 
We have fifty well armed men stationed around this barn. 
You cannot escape and we do not want to kill you." 

After a moment of faltering Booth called from his 

cribbed imprisonment that the Captain (Baker) had put 

a hard case up to him, as he was lame; "But give me a 
chance," he said. "Draw up your men twenty yards from 
here and I will fight your whole command." To which 
Baker replied that they were not there to fight, but "to 
take ycu." Booth asked time to consider and was told 
by Baker that he could have just two minutes and no more. 
.\fter a portion of the allotted time had passed. Booth 
called to Captain Baker: "Captain I believe you are a 
brave and honorable man. I have had half a dozen chances 
to shoot you, and have a bead on you now. Withdraw 
your men from the door and I will come out, as I do not 
want to kill you. Gi\e me this chance for my life; for I 
will not be taken alive." Even in this desperate danger 
Booth did not forget to be theatrical. 



WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 15 



"Your time is up," said Baker firmly, "and if you don't 
come out we will make a bonfire of the barn." 

Then came a final defy from Booth in clarion tones 
which could be heard by the women cowering on the Gar- 
rett porch several rods away. "Just prepare a stretcher 
for me.'' Adding after a slight pause, "One more star on 
the glorious banner." 

Conger now came around the corner of the barn and 

asked Baker if he was ready. After a nod of "yes" Conger 

stepped noisely hack and drew a bunch of corn husks 

thrcuuh a crack in the barn, scratched a match and in a 

moment the whole interior was brilliant with light. Baker 

jarred the door and peeked in. Booth had been snugged 

against the mow, but now sprang forward, half blinded by 

the glow of the fire, his crutches under one arm and 

carbine leveled in the direction of the flames as if to shoot 

the man who set them going, but he was unable to see on 

account of the darkness outside. After a brief hesitation 

he reeled forward. An old table was near at hand, at which 

Booth cauglit liold as though to cast it upside down on 

the flames, but he was not quick enough, and dropping 

"one" crutch hobbled toward the door. About the middle of 

the barn he drew himself up to full height and seemed to 

take in the entire situation. His hat was gone and his 

dark wavy hair tossed hack from his hish white forehead. 

lips firmly compressed as the riiddy firelight glow revealed 

a pale and palid face. In his full dark eyes there was an 

expression of hatred mingled with terror and the defiance 

of a tiger hunted to its lair. Tn one hand he held a carbine, 

in the other a revolver and his belt contained another 

re\' her and a huge knife, seeming determined to fight to 

the end no matter what numbers appeared against him. 

By this time the flanT-s in the corn blades had mounted to 

the rafters arching the hunted refugee in a glow more 

brilliant than the lights of any theatre in which he had 

ever played. Suddenly Booth threw aside his "remaining" 

crutch, dropped his carbine, raised his revolver and made 

a lunge for the door, evidently with the intention of 

.«hooting down whoever mi.'xht bar his way, and make a 

desperate dash for liberty fighting as he ran. Then came 

a shock that sounded above the roar of the flames. Booth 

leaped in the air, then pitched forward on his face. Baker 

was on him in an instant and grabbed both arms, a pre- 

cautirn entirely unnecessary; for Booth would struggle no 

more. In a jitfy Conger and his soldiers came rushing 

in wihile Baker turned tlie wounded man over and felt 

for his heart. 

"He must have shot himself," remarked Baker. "I 
saw him the moment the fire was lighted. If not, the man 



16 WANDERINGS OF ,) WILKES BOOTH 



who did the shooting goes back to Washington in irons 
for disobeying orders.'' 

In the excitement that followed the firing of the barn 
Boston Corbett, accompanying the cavalry detachment, had 
gone to the side of the crib, placed his revolver through a 
crack, and just as Booth was about to spring to the door- 
way, fired the fatal shot. 

Booth's body was carried out and laid under an applf 
tree. Water was dashed in his face and Baker tried to 
make him drink but he seemed unable to swallow. Present- 
ly, however, he opened his eyes and seemed to understand 
the situation. His lips moved and Baker leaned down to 
hear what he might say. "Tell mother — tell mother — " 
He faltered and tlien became unconscious. 

The flames now grew so intense that it was necessary 
to remove the dying man to the plaza of the house where 
he was laid on a mattress. A cloth wet with brandy was 
applied to his lips, at which he revived a little, then opened 
his eyes and said in a tone of bitterness, "Oh, kill me! 
Kill me quick!" 

"No Booth," replied Baker, "We don't want you to 
die. You were shot against orders." Then he was uncon- 
scious again for several minutes and all thought he would 
never speak again, but his breast heaved and he acted as 
if he wanted to say something. Baker placed his ear to the 
dying man's mouth, when Booth in a faltering and scarcely 
audiljle whisper said, "Tell mother I died for my country. 
I did what I tliought was best." With a feeling of pity and 
tenderness Baker lifted the limp hand, but it fell back 
again by his side as if he were dead. He seemed uncon- 
scious of the movement, and turning his eyes muttered: 
"Hopeless. Useless." And — he was dead. 



THE PROSECUTION RESTS 

Now that you iiave read the story of the pursuit by 
General Dana and the statement from R. Standard Baker 
you are no doubt convinced that the man killed at the 
Garrett home on the memorable 25th of April, 1865, was 
none other than J. Wilkes Booth and that any one who 
would claim that the Enid suicide of January, 1903 was 
Booth should be made president of an Anamias club or sent 
to a lunacy resort. But pause a moment. Who was it 
wrote the account of the killing at the Garrett home, and 
when was it written? Get out from under the dazzling 
light and take a serious look. It was, like the Dana story, 
written a third of a century subsequent to the event; but 
unlik* the Dana story, written by one who, barring the 
lapse of memory after so many years, was in a position, to 
know; whereas, R. Standard Baker was not nearer than 




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"Ge<;rge" eleven days after eiiibalniing. 




Booth as an Evangelist. 



W A N F) K R I N C; S O F .1 X^' I T K V. S P, O OT H 1 



Washington City to the scene of the tragedy, had no part 
in it nor even in the pursuit; who never saw Booth eitiier 
"before or after," his only connection with the great na- 
tional tragedy was in being a relative of the Bakers who 
did have a hand in the affair. Besides, it was but a collec- 
tion of published and bar room stories embellished with 
lilies of the valley dashed over with sprinkles of new-mown 
hay to give wholesome fragrance to dead matter; for — 
Mr. Baker was a novelist with the imagination of a poet. 
Hence he grew florescent in his account written many years 
after the tragedy. Now his raven locks waved like fairy 
tresses. "Word painters in that day often consulted 
"spirits". This may account for Mr. Baker seeing two 
crutches, and how he came to see him "discard" one of 
them. When all reliable evidence is Booth never had but 
one crutch, and Bainbridge and Rutledge who took Booth 
to the Garrett home declare he abandoned the crutch for a 
large cane. This may be why the "leg came off with the 
boot" when the body was buried at Baltimore. Many other 
tilts of poetic license might be called up. 

The prcsecution closed with the exhuming of the body 
from its tomb in the room of the old prison and buried in 
Mount Green cemetery. It was recognized as the body of 
J. Wilkes Booth by the brother Edwin and Joe Ford, 
proprietor of tiie Ford tiieatre where the tragedy took 
place — recognized liy a gold tooth taken from the dead 
man by the undertaker. Witli a statement that as other 
and the final evidence, it is stated that on removing tlie 
boot from one foot, the limb remained in the boot. 

The prosecution concludes its testimony by introduc- 
tion of a few letters from various persons. All of them, 
bear in mind, contemporaneous with the Dana and the 
Baker statements. One of these is from Gen. Lew Wallace 
who was the Judge Advocate before whom Mrs. Surratt 
and David E. Herrold were tried (court martial). In his 
letter Mr. Wallace says that of "My personal knowledge 
the body was brought to Washington City and buried in a 
room of the old brick jail; that some years subsequent it 
was lurned over to the relatives of Booth and buried in 
Mount Green cemetery, Baltimore." "To my personal 
knowledge" is putting it pretty strong and positive, 'coming 
from so eminent a man as Gen. Wallace; but it may be 
hinted that the General was also a novelist whose Ben Hur 
proved f)ne of the most popular biblical fictions ever given 
to the public — the book, its dramatization for the stage, 
and later, as a movie attraction. 

Gen. Dana writes that to his certain knowledge the 
body was brought to Washington City on the steamer John 
S. Ide and "buried under a slab in the navv vnrd and a 



18 WAXDERIXGS OF J. WILKES BOOTH 

battery of artillery hauled over it to obliterate any trace," 
etc. That, too, is pretty strong evidence. 

.\nother witness proves to be a star in the prosecution 
box: William P. Wood of Washington City, who, soon 
after writing his "testimony" — died, in 1898. At the time 
Mr. Lincoln was killed he was a government detective, 
and on receipt of a wire from Secretary Stanton hastened 
to Washington. In speaking of the disposition of the 
Garrett home body he is solemnly certain it was taken from 
the steamer John S. Ide at the wharf in Washington City 
April 27 and transferred by Capt. Baker and his nephew 
Lieut. Baker of the New York 71st Volunteers, and taken 
down the Potomac to an island 27 miles out from Wash- 
ington and buried. 

Another star witness for the prosecution was Capt. 
E. W. Hillard of Metropolis, Illinois, who about the same 
date as the other letters, declares that he was one of the 
four who carried the remains from the old prison room 
(described by Wallace); that the body was taken about 
ten miles down the Potomac and sunk; that the storj' of 
Booth being buried in the navy yard was given out merely 
to satisfy the people. (But Mr. Dana's statement was a 
third of a century after the event.) Still another cock- 
sure witness declares that the body was taken to a sand bar 
of the Potomac and consumed in quick-lime. 

Xow you have the evidence of the prosecution. Would 
you as a juryman, even before the defense has introduced 
an item in rebuttal find Corbett guilty as charged? Pos- 
sibly. But as a matter of form, if for no other reason, 
the defense will present a few statements and circumstances. 
The first is a confession from a man going under the name 
of John St. Helen — made to a friend — Finis L. Bates, when 
he, St. Helen, supposed he was at the gate of eternity at 
Cranberry, Texas, in 1878. 



BOOTH MAKES CONFESSION 

The story here drifts back to the confession made by 
Booth at Cranberry, Texas, in 1878, when he supposed the 
final accounting was at hand. For one peculiar character- 
istic in his temperament was an inclination to moody spells 
of despondency, and when taken ill invariably giving him- 
self up to die, no doubt dividing desire between a hope he 
would and a desire to still hang on longer. It was during 
a spell of illness this confession was made. The village 
physician had been summoned, meantime his friend Bates 
was a frequent visitor at the bedside. Despite all efforts 
of the physician the patient continued to grow worse until 
it seemed evident the time had at last come for the parting 
of the ways. -\nd the physician so informed his patient. 



WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 10 

that if he had any arranging to do or any statement to 
make he could not go to it any too soon. Booth then 
requested to see Bates, who was at once notified that his 
friend was dying and wished to see him. In a few minutes 
Mr. Bates was at the bedside. Booth motioned him to bend 
his ear close, he being too feeble to speak in more than a 
halting whisper. "You have no doubt before thi.s," Booth 
started out, "surmised that I was not what I have pretended, 
and that my name is not the one by which you and the 
good people of Texas have known me. But before I begin 
I must exact from you a most solemn pledge that you will 
guard the secret until I am finally laid away," which pledge 
was readily made, "and I feel that with a few quick breaths 
the end will come. I implore that you believe me, for it 
is from tlie lips of a dying man. I also ask that when yoH 
hear my story you will not despise me, something I can 
scarcely expect. Yes, the angel who holds the shears is 
impatient to clip the thread that holds life on its slender 
line. Nor can anyone conceive of a motive for notoriety 
after one is dead and can never know nor appreciate it. 
Besides that nrtoriety is such that no one would be likely 
to desire it, even that no one would relish, even beycng the 
vale should spirits there realize. No, I have only one 
motive — that the world may know that which through all 
thesf" ^-enrs has be^n hidden, that the man who killed Pres- 
ident Lincoln lived to suffer the consequences of his own 
deed, to repent in sack cloth — to pay a thousand fcld the 
penalty — a continuous never-ceasing penalty with the debt 
still owing." Then pulling his listener still nearer he con- 
tinued: "Lock at inc. .Vnd now I shall ask yrii to get 
from under my pillow a small tintype taken by an itinerant 
photographer at Glen Rose Mills some time after you and 
General Taylor visited there July 4, 1877. I want you to 
retain it as a source of identification when I am no more; 
and note from its date that it can be the likeness of no 
other than he who knows that his end is near. T am not 
what T have pretended to be. I am John Wilkes Booth, 
tli'= man who k'lled President Lincoln." The tintype was 
taken from beneath the pillow as requested. Borth gave 
one sad remorseful look at the picture, then motioned it 
away and closed his eyes in a seeming rest. Brmrly was 
applied to the sinking man's lips and his brow bathed to 
revive him, only to court a gentle recline into the ariiis of 
that calm sleep which seems the sleep of death. But fate 
proved the mentor and after a season of halting on the 
dark border. Booth looked up, and the sleep of sleeps passed 
to fitful waking. This was in the morning, and with it 
slight evidences that after all the patient miaht recover: 
at least such the hope of not only immediate friends, but of 



20 



WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 



the physician as well, that the patient would soon pull froni 
beneath the raven's shadow. Although for a number ot 
days the case seemed to hang in the balance. After a 
further season of patient waiting, the full recovery of the 
sick man proved a phophesy come true. 

Having fullv recovered Booth became a trifle feverish 
as to what he m"ight have said during his delirous moments. 
On the occasion of a usual visit to Mr. Bates' "ffice he 
was reminded of .the seriousness of the siege through which 
he had just passed: 

"Do vou remember the things I said when I was so 
near the "gates of— I need not mention." Pending reply 
there was an expression of evident anxiety. 

"I remember many things you said," was the respond. 
"Then you have my life in your keeping,— but for- 
tunatelv as my attorney." . 

Mr Bates somewhat evasively replied: "Do you refer 
to what vnu said of your sweetheart and last '"ve.- ' ^^ 
To which Booth in a solemn tone, half to himselt, l 
have had a sweetheart," then recovering; yet more earnest 
to his questioner: "but no last love, and I could not in the 
most wildest delirium have touched a subject so foreign to 
mv thoua-hts, and of such infinite unconcern." Raising In 
deep medlpv between self and self-re.straint he paused, and 
then paced" back and forth a few times Suddenly as if 
da.shing awav som intruding spell tilted his hat_ a trifle 
to one side, "folded his arms in rocking attitude in front, 
accompanied with a few waving pantomimes, straight at 
his .n.estioner: "You perpetuated quite a clever evasion of 
one of the thin-s I did say— something," placing his right 
arm on the auditor's shoulder, the other swung carelessly 
at his >;ide— "something of extreme moment to me inen 
removing his hand from the shoulder faced his auditor and 
in a sort of confessional tone and slight palm-gesture with 
the right hand, "suflPicient now, that on some future day 
when I am in better frame to talk and you to listen, mj^ 
hi^toTV. the secret of my name, you shall more fulh know. 

" "At vour convenience, John— St. Helen. I am sure 
thrit it will h° rf more than curious interest to me. 
Tells Of His Escape and Wanderings 
It was .some davs after when the air was balmy, and 
the sun lowering, sheding lingering tints on the roots ol 
Granberrv. Mr. Bates and Booth took a stroll to the out- 
vkirts of "the citv and seated on a rock, the shadow of which 



reflected in phantom weirdness in the waters below. Here, 
true to promise. Booth unbosomed himself to his confidant, 
jrivin^ an intelligent and minute detail of his life from the 
time when he was before the footlights at the age of seven- 
teen to th« traL'edv which sent him forth a hounded prey 



WANDERINGS OF .1 WILKES BOOTH 21 



for the man-hunter and the professional reward grabber, 
down to his hinding in Glen Rose Mills, and thence to Gran- 
berry and to the very present. 

"Since you have so much of my past in your keeping 
I shall if you care to listen give you still more with which 
to burden the chambers of secrecy until the last parting of 
the ways. I was born on a farm near Baltimore, and at 
once christened as a Catholic to which faith my pepple 
belonged. I am the son of Junius Booth, Sr., and brother 
of Junius and Edwin Booth, the actors. My stage-life 
began at the age of seventeen and continued until the break- 
ing out of the war, having by that time saved up something 
like twenty thousand dollars in gold, which, owing to shaky 
financial conditions in this country, was deposited in Canad- 
ian banks on which I drew when in need of money, these 
checks being readily cashed at any bank on this side of 
the St. Lawrence. My sympathies were wholly with the 
southland, and my enthusiasm In its cause practically ended 
my dramatic career so far as public appearances went, 
except now and then filling some star engagement, the last 
being the one ever memorable at the Ford Theatre the dark 
night of the darkest hour in any human life. Fraternal 
hatred had grown to a violent pitch until it seemed every 
man's hand was at his neighbor's throat. And this was 
not confined to one side in the fearful struggle. Large 
rewards had been offered for the capture of President Davis 
of the Confederacy, in some cases — "dead or alive." What 
were termed the most patriotic airs on the streets of the 
north and around their army camps breathed of this carnal 
spirit, and "John Brown's Body," alternated with "We'll 
Hang Jeff Davis to a Sour Apple Tree," and other ensan- 
guined strains. It was then I first conceived the idea that 
I could best serve my country by planning and carrying 
out a scheme to kidnap President Lincoln and underground 
him to Richmond to be held as a hostage of war in case 
these drastic threats against President Davis should be car- 
ried out," etc. Booth insisted that during the entire sum- 
mer he took the initiative and made no confidences until 
well along in the season. He had made a number of 
cursory .surveys between the National Capitol and Rich- 
mond, Capitol of the Confederacy, searching for the safest 
and most feiitible route. He had made the acquaintance of 
David E. Herrold, a callow-seeming young druggist with 
red hair, and from M'hom he had purchased greased paints 
and other stage cosmetics, and incidently learned that the 
young druggist was quite familiar with the lay of the coun- 
try along and tlirough which I>incoln would have to be 
carried — knew every crook and turn, every secret path and 
bv-wav. He had also learned that the voung man was not 



22 WANDERINGS OF .1 WILKES BOOTH 

nearly so callow as he seemed, but possessed of a secretive 
resourcefulness that could not fail to be valuable. And 
above all, he had learned that young Herrold was the soul 
of loyalty to a friend, and a person in whom the most 
implicit confidence could be placed; that he had steady 
pulse and unflinching nerve — ^bold and daring but still about 
it. It was through Herrold he learned that John H. Sur- 
ratt, who was also a "cosmetic" acquaintance of Herrold, 
wa.s in the secret service of the Confederacy plying between 
Richmond and Canadian points, and hence must be familiar 
with bridle-paths and secret ways along the route. Bearing 
a letter of introduction from Herrold he visited Surratt — 
fir.'^t at the Surrattsville tavern kept by Mrs. Surratt, and 
that the only time he — Surratt — could be caught would be 
during some night as he was traveling through. At this 
meeting he did not meet the mother and confined his mis- 
sion to gathering what he could as to the secret by-paths 
referred to. Soon after this Mrs. Surratt moved to Wash- 
ington City and opened up a rooming house, leaving others 
in charge of the Surrattsville tavern. lycarning through 
Herrold that Surratt would pass through Washington on a 
certain night he paid a second visit — this time at the Sur- 
ratt rooming house in Washington. At this meeting he for 
the first time ntet Mrs. Surratt, but only in a casual way. 
.'Vt this meeting he also, for the first time, unfolded his 
scheme to kidnap President Lincoln. While Surratt ex- 
pressed sympathy with the kidnapping idea he was not en- 
listed in the scheme, but Booth determined that he and 
Herrold would work it out alone, lest too many in the 
plot might cause a leak. He and Herrold made a number 
of trips over the routes both together and alone, and a 
number of plans with dates were fixed to do the kidnappinq:, 
hut something had at each time intervened to balk the 
effort, and they determined that this time they would carry 
out the scheme at all hazards and had just made a final 
survey along the route and were returning to Washington 
to carry out the plot. They stopped over for the night at 
-Surrattsville, and next morning. April 1 1-, 186.5, saddled 
their steeds and started for the National Capitol. On 
crossing the East Potomac bridge they refused to cive their 
names ard v-ere arrested at the 'Xavy Yard end and de- 
tained until the afternoon when they were by- order issued 
by Gen. Augur calling in all guards and discharging all 
prisoners, released. 

They arrived at the Kirkwood Hotel — rendezvous of 
the kidnapping contingents, and where incidentally Vice- 
President Andrew Johnson also roomed. On crossing the 
bridge Booth first learned of the surrender of Lee and 
the fall of Richmond and concluded there was nothing left 



WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 23 

to do but leave the country and abandon southland to 
what was believed to be a miserable fate, of disporting and 
sweeping confiscations and official plunder by an invading 
foe. However, he says, about 4:30 p. m. he met * * * 
who taunted him with cowardice, of wincing at the crucial 
period, of faltering at the supreme moment, winding up 
with the hint: "Are you too faint-hearted to kill?" Then 
and there the idea of daring over-came Booth, he declares, 
and that then and there he determined to act on the hint. 
Here with hand raised on high and calling on his maker 
to witness, he avers solemnly that this was the first time 
any idea entered into his mind other than the kidnapping 
of the President. But as General and Mrs. Grant were 
to be guests of President and Mrs. Lincoln and occupj' a 
box at the Ford theatre together, presented a dangerous 
barrier. He was known at the bridge; he and Herrold 
were already under suspicion, having but a few hours 
previous been arrested as suspicious characters in broad 
day when entering the city via the East Potomac bridge, 
and to carry out the idea meant certain death, or seemingly 
so, which belief he communicated to * * *. And that 
it would be impossible to escape through the military lines 
of protection completely surrounding the city. But he was 
assured that arrangements would be made so that Grant 
would not attend the theatre, to which Booth replied under 
such assurances he would strike the blow for vanquished 
and helpless southland. Mr. * * » left the room, return- 
ing in about an hour sayin? it had been effectually arranged; 
that Grant would be suddenly called out of the city; that 
such persons as would occupy the box would not interfere, 
and that he would be permitted to escape by way of the 
route over which he and Herrold had entered the city that 
afternoon; that all guards would be called off by order of 
Gen. C. C. Augur that evening, but if there should be 
guards on the bridge the only requirement would be to use 
the password "T. B." unless more should be demanded, in 
which case the words "T. B. Road." Furthermore, on the 
death of I,incoln, Andrew Johnson, a southern man would 
become President, and that in his official capacity would in 
case of a show down grant full pardon. 

Fired by the spirit of what Booth believed to be patriot- 
ism, and hoping to serve the southern cause, hopeless as it 
then was, as no other man could do, he regarded it as an 
opportunity for heroism for his country; declaring that and 
that alone was behind his purpose; rather than any feeling 
of hatred or malice against the President. And on further 
telling, says Booth, that Johnson would protect the people 
of the south from personal prosecution and the confiscation 
of their remaining land estates. Acting upon these assur- 



WANDKRINGS OF .1 WILKES BOOTH 



ancvs and with no other motive tlian stated he began at 
onre prepiirntion for carrying out the plot by goinp to the 
theatre and among other tilings arranging the door leading 
into the box to be occupied by the presidential party, so 
that he could raise the fastenings, enter the box and close 
the door behind hiui so it could be easily opened from the 
inside. He then returned to the Kirkwood and made his 
derringer ready so it would not miss fire. He then met 
• • • and informed him of his readiness to carry out 
the plot; that about 8:30 they repaired to the Kirkwood 
bar and drank a glass of brandy to the success of the 
undertaking; thence to the street arm-in-arm, and at the 
parting: 

".Make as sure of your aim as have been arrangements 
for your escape, for in your complete success lies our only 
hope." Then being assured that the plot would be success- 
fully carried out Mr. • * • replied: "Then from now 
on a southern man is President of the United States," at 
which a hand-grasp an final good-bye. 

Rooth says that he then returned to the theatre and 
saw the President and party enter the box, and he moved 
position to a con\enient ]inint, and at a time when the pl-^y 
was well before the footlights he entered the box. closed 
the door and fired the fatal shot which imade Andrew 
Johnson President, and he. Booth, an outcast, a wanderer, 
and ever after with the brand of Cain. ".\s I fired." says 
Booth, "the same instant that I leaped from the box to 
the stage my riirht leg becoming tangled in the drapery, 
fracturing my right shin bone about six or eight inches 
above the ankle. T reached my horse in safety which .by 
arrangement was being held by Herrold back of the theatre 
and close to the door. With Herrold's assistance I mount- 
ed and rode at full speed, reaching the east Potomac bridge, 
crossing the same at full pace. On coming to the gate at 
the east end there stood a federal guard who asked, "Where 
.ire you iming?" to which I merely used the letters T. B. 
On a further question easy to answer, "Where?" the full 
password, T. B. Road was given. Without further cere- 
mony the guard called for help in raising the gate quickly, 
when I again put spur for Surrattsville, where I waited for 
Herrold to catch up as prearranged. After waiting a few 
minutes Herrold joined me and we rode the remainder of 
the night until about I o'clock in the morning of April 15. 
when we reached the home of Dr. Samuel Mudd. where my 
right riding boot was removed by cutting a slit in it and 
my wounded foot and leg were dressed by a banding of 
strips of cloth and splints of a cigar box. We remained 
at the ^Tndd h^me the r»>mninder f^f the day, and nt night- 
fall, leaving Ihe 'lit ridintr bnrt. \vp procredrd ( n I'wr 



WANDERINGS OF J WILKES HOOTII 25 



journey, usiuK a crutch luadc from a broom handle. Our 
next liaul up was at tlie liome of a southern sympatlii/.er 
named Cox, about 4 or 5 o'clock of April 16". Mr. Cnx 
refu.'-ed to admit us in the bouse on account of news of tli-i 
President beinj; shot havinfr preceeded us. However, be 
called his manager and instructed bim to bide us in a pine 
thicket near the Potomac banks just back of the planta- 
tion. The manajrer was of medium beigiit, approximately 
my weipbt, but not quite .so tall, swarthy, black eyes and 
bair, with a short irrowth of beard. T called him by the 
name familiarly used when not knowinfi' the true name — 
"Johnny, afterwards Ruddy because we bad beard Cox 
address bin) by that na'ue." Neg'otiations were made with 
Ruddy to deliver Booth and Herrold safely across the 
country to the care and custody of the Confederate soldiers 
under Mo.sby's command on the Rhappahanock near and 
south of Bowlinsr Green: $300.00 dollars beinjr the retainer 
airreed upon. Here Ruddy left Booth and Herrold in hid- 
ings' and started on foot to Bowling Green, a distance of 
something like thirty-five miles, to arrange to meet Lieu- 
tenants Rutledge and Bainbridge at a time and place to 
be made definite, on the Rhappahanock — dividinsr line be- 
tween camps of federal and confederate forces. Ruddy was 
gone from the 17th to the 21st, meantime Booth and 
Herrold being guarded and cared for by Cox's half-brother 
Jones. Ruddy had arranged with Captain Jett, Lieutenant.s 
Rutledge and Bainbridge to meet Booth, Herrold and Ruddy 
at a designated point on the Rhappahanock near Ports 
Conway and Royal at 2 o'clock p. m. of April 22. Whither 
they started on the evening of April 21, crossing to the 
south side of the Potomac 18 miles from the point agreed 
upon through an open country 18 miles to the Rappahanock. 
Of course it would be over-risk to attempt this venture, 
especially as the country was being scoured by federal 
man-hunter.s — soldiers in a vie as to who should keep the 
other fellow off track until bagging the game for the 
"honor" of it: others to throw every one else off track in 
orde rto gain the fabuloiis reward said to have been offered 
without a fifty-fifty divide. Hence Ruddy made a deal with 
a plantaticm darky who owned a pair of bony ponies and 
an old ramshackle wagon. T^ewis, the old darkey, placed 
straw in the bottom of the wagon bed and on this Booth 
was tucked and stretched out so as to take up as little 
visible exterior as possible like a sealed package to prevent 
discovery. More straw and slats were lain across the lower 
section of the wagon box on which an old mattress was 
.spread, old nuilts, blanket remnants, and such other rub- 
bish as a darkey might be expected to possess on making 
an inventory of .stock by way of moving. To make the 



26 WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 



outfit more unsuspicious a chicken coop was fastened on 
behind and in this were some old hens and a rooster; with 
straw bedding, feed, and water bowls. The start was made 
on this perilous trip at 6 a. m., April 22, so as to be at the 
appointed place on the Rhappahanock on schedule time. 
Ruddy and Herrold walking behind at such precautious 
distance as not to arouse suspicion should any man-hunter 
appear. Booth had in his inside pocket a memorandum 
book in which was a photo and his diary. There was also 
a photo of his sister, a few personal letters, and a check 
on Bank of Ontario which had been made payable to Ruddy. 
After crossing the Rhappahanock, Lewis remarked with 
excitement that soldiers were coming. Booth overhearing 
decided that it was federal soldiers, and as he was being 
hurriedly dragged out by the heels he had all kinds ef 
spooky visions; but the troops proved to be Jett, Bain- 
bridge, and Rutledge there on the dot. Booth discovered 
at once that on being dragged from his bed of straw his 
memorandum book and other pocket contents had fallen 
out; hence he requested Ruddy to recross the river and 
hunt the old darkey before too late and recover his lost 
treasures. After receiving the check which it seems had 
not been lost out. Ruddy got on the batteau boat; and as 
they verc t^^o dangerously e\pnped to wait, the three, 
Bainbridge, Rutledge, and Booth made a hurry drive for 
the Garrett home about three and a half miles up and off 
from the Potomac road, while it was arransfed that Jett, 
Herrold, and Ruddy should go from there to Bowling Green 
to purchase a shoe for Booth's game foot, and a few other 
necessary items, and make further arrangements for the 
safe delivery within the Confederate lines and that they — 
Ruddy, Jett, and Herrold should be able to join them at 
the Garrett home next evening. W^ith this understanding 
Lieutenants Bainbridge and Rutledge placed Booth on the 
Jett horse and the trio were soon safe in the Garrett home. 
Booth being left with a heavy wooden cane, having "dis- 
carded the crutch," wliile Bainbridge and Rutledge were to 
keep watch from a hill some distance away for any threat- 
ened danger. .About 2 p. m. of April 23 while Booth 
was enjoying a loll on the lawn of the front yard, Bain- 
bridge and Rutledge noticed some Yankees across the 
Rhappahanock and immediately the guards darted into the 
thicket. Arriving at the Garrett home they notified Booth 
to take to tall timber at once without so much as a fare- 
well to his hosts. Bainbridge and Rutledge were evidently 
familiar with the topography and other physical conditions 
of that section and readily instructed Booth just where to 
land, the winds and elbows and other devious contours, and 
there he should listen for a signal from them and they 



WANDl'.RINGS OF J WILKES HOOTH 27 



would join iiiin as soon as safe, whicli was about i p. m. 
Bainbridge and Rutledge were on the scene with an extra 
horse. They rode westerly until about twelve o'clock that 
night, when they rested in the wocds. Giving directions as 
to the further route Bainbridge and Rutledge at last sepa- 
rated from Booth 25 miles west of Garrett's or Port Royal 
and Conway. Booth rode west all that day, then south- 
west until 10 a. m. second day from the Garrett home via 
a dim road. He stopped at a small farm house on a blind 
trail where tliree elderly women took him in, a "wounded 
confederate soldier" for breakfast — self and horse. Here 
Booth rested a few hours, riding the remainder of the day 
and until near 12 at night when he camped in a clump of 
small i)uslies on a small creek bottom some distance from 
the road for the rest of the night. At an early hour next 
morning he took breakfast at the home of an old gentle- 
man and wife; then hurried in a southwest direction for 
some days, where Confederate soldiers were in strong evi- 
dence. Down through West Virginia, crossing the Big 
Sandy at Warfield's in eastern Kentucky, thence two days 
southwest covering about sixty miles where he found shelter 
with a young widow named Stapleton, with a small boy. 
As a wounded Confederate he was safe here, remaining a 
week. Thence south to the Mississippi River where he 
found a safe crossing, and a trifle south of the mouth 
of the Arkansas river. After parting with Bainbridge and 
Rutledge the first night out from the Garrett home Booth 
was accompanied much of the way by Dr. D. B. O'Brannon. 
Reaching the Arkansas he followed it southerly on 
the east bank until near Fort Gibson where he crossed and 
associated first among the Cherokees who treated him ho.s- 
pitably, but they were too highly educated and civilized 
for safety, hence he attached himself to a band of Apaches 
whose women, he says, were rather intelligent and many of 
them really good looking; but the men were not so intelli- 
gent and didn't like the idea of work; especially the chief 
who was excpptiimally lazy, but equally kind as was every 
member of the tribe. 

Crossing the Plains as "Jesse Smith 
In the course of a year he tired of that nomadic career 
and longed again for civilization, to find compani.onship 
consrenial; hence bidding his Indian friends a last han(7- 
shake started across the country' passing through probably 
what are Pottawatomie, Cleveland and Canadian counties, 
then bearing north and crossing into Kansas not far from 
Kiowa; thence westerly hugging the streams until he reached 
Nebraska City where I^evi Thrailkill was fitting out a crew 
to transport supplies for troops at Salt Lake, via horse 
teams. Under the name of Jesse Smith, Booth engaged. 



28 WANDERINGS OF J. WILKES BOOTH 

Thrailkill had a contract with the government to supply 
provisions for the troops at Salt Lake and readily gave the 
stranger a pair of lines. According to Mr. Thrailkill who 
resided near Enid at the time of the suicide, Smith seemed 
to know nothing whatever about handling horses, could 
neither harness nor unharness them, but soon learned to 
handle the lines fairly well. He was such a genial fellow, 
however, that the other teamsters gladly relieved him of 
the task of harnessing and unharnessing, as weJI as from 
camp duties. He was the life and joy of the camp, always 
with a word of clieer, a recitation of some poem or quot- 
ing great dramatists, especially Shakespeare which was done 
in tragedy, pathos or emotion as the case might warrant. 
In fact, he could laugh with those who laugh, shed artificial 
tears and shape his face to any occasion. When near Salt 
Lake, Smith left the train without so much as bidding 
good-bye or drawing his pay. From here it was learned 
that he made direct for San Francisco where after visiting 
his mother and brother he made his way into Old Mexico, 
the only tarry so far as known being at Fresno. In Mexico 
he attached himself to Maximillian's forces, but soon had a 
misunderstanding and was only saved from serious conse- 
quences through the intervention of Catholics, to which 
denom-nr^i'^n It" b^'mtrrd ^r-d "'nf^ a d^vu*- niember. For 
a while he roamed over the lands of the Aztecs in the 
guise of an itinerant priest. 

Becomes A Country Merchant 
From Mexico, about 1871 or 1872, he made his way 
into Texas, stopping at Glenrose Mills at the foot of Bosque 
Mountain in Hood County, that being then the boundary of 
western civilization. Here he bought out a dealer in 
tobacco and carried a small supply of groceries and whiskey, 
the man from whom he purchased moving to Granberry, 
some thirty miles east. Meantime continued the business 
trusting it mostly to a Mexican porter, and occupying a 
rough log house, the rear end as a living room for he and 
the porter, and the front as a "store". It seems that Booth 
either failed to notify authorities of the change or secure 
license required of those dealing in tobacco and whiskey. 
The result was the party from whom he purchased was 
indicted by the government grand jury at Tyler for doing 
business without the required license. The indicted man 
consulted a j'oung attorney who had drifted in from Tenn- 
essee to try his fortune in the land of cowboys and cactus. 
Mr. Bates then called in Booth, who sailed under the name 
of John St. Helen, and with whom he was slightly at that 
time acquainted. He requested of Booth that he go to 
Tyler and thus relieve the innocent from trouble for which 
he, B»oth, was wholly responsible. He asked time to con- 



WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 2P 

sider, which was granted. In due time he called on the 
attorney and told him that there were reasons why he did 
not dare risk going to Tyler; that in fact he was sailing 
under an assumed name, and there being so many detec- 
tives and government spies, and others always hanging 
around the Tyler court, the risk would be too great. He 
would, however, do whatever he could, and suggested that 
the attorney take his client to Tyler and there arrange for 
a plea of guilty, which would undoubtedly draw but a 
slight fine; that he. Booth, would furnish the funds. The 
proposition was accepted and Booth whipped out a leather 
wallet containing an amount of shinplaster and the attor- 
ney and his client lit out overland. Arriving at Tyler 
where Judge Brown was the U. S. District Judge and Jack 
Evans District Attorney the matter of plea and fine was 
arranged and the prisoner discharged. The young attornej' 
and his client returned to Cranberry and handed Booth the 
wallet and contents, less the expense and fine. Booth 
seemed highly delighted at the happy result; but manifested 
much concern about his admission of an assumed name. 
Hence he called on the attorney and requested secrecy, 
at the same time handing him a handsome roll, saying "Now 
that you are my attorney with my interest in keeping I 
shall feel from now on safe from exposure, you being the 
only mortal living possessed of the secret. After a time 
Booth moved to Cranberry bringing the porter along, and 
he and the voung Tennesseean became the fastest of friends. 



At the close of the war, Lieut. M. B. Ruggles became 
associated with the New York firm of Constable & Co., 
which his brother Edward S. retired to a farm in Kings 
county, Va. The father. Gen. Dan Ruggles, also retired 
to his Virginia farm. Jett settled in Carlin county, Va. 
but subsequently moved to Baltimore M'here he married the 
daughter of a prominent physician, and took to the road 
as a commercial traveler. But the three in Booth's escape 
finally associated themselves under the firm name of Jett, 
Bainbridge and Ruggles. Lieut. Bainbridge settled in New 
York associated in the firm of Jett, Bainbridsre and Ruggles. 
In reply to letters written as late as 1889 each of these 
gentlemen unhesitatingly give the part they took i-n the 
escape of Booth, and in each case the statement of Booth 
while in Texas is fully corroborated. "While crossing the 
Rhappahanock," says Lieut. Ruggles, "Booth wore a black 
slouch hat pulled down well over his forehead," etc. That 
after landing Booth safely in the Garrett home, they next 
day saw two Federals on horseback in hot pursuit; that 
they, Ruggles and Bainbridge, were signaled for a parley, 
but instead made a rapid dash into the thick underbrush 



30 



WANDERINGS OF .1 WILKES BOOTH 



and reached the Garrett home in time to warn Bootli who 
immediately struck out for the tall timber and interming- 
ling jungles, and then they made their way to safety; that 
when warning Booth he was given a signal by which he 
would know it was they, and that they would join him 
as soon as safety would warrant; that they did go to the 
hiding place of Booth, and together they made a safe get- 
away, very much as related by Booth in his Texas state- 
ment. 

In a letter from the Judge Advocate's office in Wash- 
ington City under date of January 23, 1898, Judge G. 
Norman Lieber and his secretary G. D. Micklejohn join in 
a reply to one asking if it would interest the Department 
to know that John Wilkes Booth was at that day still alive; 
that while the Department had no positive or direct proof 
that the man killed at the Garrett home was Booth, they 
had circumstantial evidence, and any further evidence as 
proofs would not interest the Department. 

Booth, or the mj^sterious strange'-, was traced to Lead- 
ville in the late fall of 1878. Next to Fresno, California, in 
1884; from whence probably he wended back to his old 
haunts at Fort Worth, as per scene in Pickwick bar else- 
where. 



SIDE-LIGHTS ON BOOTH IN OKLAHOMA 

The story now leads into Oklahoma briefly as told in 
the Historia account, which is repeated with such notes 
and remembered incidents of the visit to Waukomis as havp 
lince been discovered or that can be called to mind.. 
(Reproduced from Historia, October, 1919.) 

Although half a century has passed 
since the tragedy in which J. Wilkes 
Booth was the active principal, there 
has been no lessening in reverence for 
the name of Lincoln, nor much in the 
bitterness toward the man who wrought 
his death. This is not confined to those 
still living who have personal memor- 
ories of that day, but the sspirit of 
the parent has been transmitted to the 
son with added energj' to such an ex- 
tent that any reference to J. W^ilkes 
Booth requires a touch of delicacy lest 
censure if not reprimand follow. 

Indeed it means a "path of coals" 
for any one who dares intimate that 
Booth was not the man killed at 




WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 31 



the Garrett home in \'irginia in 1865; or that he escaped 
and during his nomadic meanderings made Oklahoma a 
favorite sojourning place until the "ending of the trial" 
at Enid, in January, 1903, via the suicide route. And yet 
there is vastly more evidence in favor of that contention 
than was ever produced that it was Booth who was killed 
at the Garrett home, instead of some one else. However, 
it is not the purpose here to go into details of the tragedy 
further than to throw a little calcium across the tortuous 
path of him, whom for simplicity sake is here designated 
as Booth, although that path was under an alias sky, 
especially that of David E. George; and that path will 
here be confined as near as practicable to Oklahoma, with 
only such other references as may seem tending to es- 
tablish identity of George and Booth as one and the same. 
As a prelude, reference is made to a letter now among 
the manuscripts of the Oklahoma Historical Society and 
which will follow: but before introducing the letter, the 
reader will be carried back to 1897, when it will be re- 
membered by old-timers, especially of Oklahoma City, 
occurred the death of General George H. Thomas, whose 
remains were shipped by his nephew to the old home at 
Portland, Maine. General Thomas came to Oklahoma City 
from Texas. He at once inocculated himself with the 
spirit of the town's active citizenship, and became instru- 
mental in building the city water works, holding 52 shares, 
or a majority stock, which he transferred to the city in 
1892. His son George H., Jr., soon after left the country 
and witli his wife wandered over foreign lands, first to 
Stockholm, Sweden, from whence he wrote friends here 
enclosing a photo of himself and wife on a log angling 
for fish from one of the clear streams of northland. The 
next letter (with photo enclosure) hailed from Russia 
Later he took up a residence in "gay Paree," France, 
from whence he wrote; this being soon after war had 
been declared between Germany and France. George 
suggested a scheme for bringing the Germans at once to 
their knees— simply sending a few Americans over and place 
them on the trenches, and then dare Germany to fire. 
French women, he declared, had been experimented with in 
that role, but the Germans cruelly ignored petticoats" and 
fired througii, over, beyond, everywhere into the trenches. 

The same year in which General Thomas died in this 
city. General Edward L. Thomas, who did service during 
the Rebellion on the C. S. A. side, died at McAlester where 
he had served a number of years as Indian agent for the 
Sac and Fox consolidated tribe. Seeing an account of the 
death of the two Thomases, Mrs. Louisa A. Walton wrote 
a letter from Beverly, N. J., to the commander of the 



32 WANDERING S OF ,1 WIl.KES BOOTH 

U. C. V. at Oklalinina Cily making inquiry concerning a 
certain General Thomas for whom she was searching. On 
receiving such information as was available at this end 
of the line concerning the Oklahoma Thomases, she wrote 
again to tiie Commander of the Oklahoma division U. C. 
v., at that time Captain John O. Casler, now landscape 
gardener at the Confederate home near Ardmore. This 
letter was under Beverly date of April 13, 1898. 

"General Edward L. Thomas is not the man I mean. 
The General Thomas of whom I desire information died 
either in the summer of 95 or 96. I tried to find a little 
record sketch of his war record in Philadelphia! because 
I saw it in the 'Philadelphia Evening Telegraph.' I put 
the paper away carefully, but it was accidentally destroyed 
by one of my servants before I clipped the piece out. 
They do not remember it at the "Telegraph office,' and 
have searched files of papers for it without success; but 
as several editions are published daily and one only filed 
I suppose it was in the edition they destroyed. They 
tell me that Henry 'George' Thomas was a Confederate 
General. 'George' Henry a Union General, and that the 
one in Oklahoma must be the one. He is not, for he, 
(the one I mean), died earlier than '97. I met him in 
Philadelphia in 1863. He fainted on the pavement in 
front of my Aunt's house one summer morning; her 
servants carried him into the house; and we used the 
proper restoratives and sent him in the carriage to the 
depot (Baltimore) when he was able to continue his 
journey. He was in company with a younger man, who 
I never saw again until I saw his face in papers as' the 
murderer of 'Lincoln' (John Wilkes Booth). Their faces 
are indelibly stamped on my memory; also the conversa- 
tion. Though we urged them to tell us their names, they 
refused, though they assured us they were very grateful. 
I think they feared we would betray them because we 
were Union women. No true woman would be guilty of 
such an act, for suffering always appeals to her heart, 
sometimes against her better judgment. My Aunt daily 
left her luxurious home to nurse the sick and wounded 
soldiers at 15th, J. Filbert St. Hospital (now Broad St. 
Station of Pennsylvania Railroad). There were a dozen 
Confederates there at that time, and they were just as 
carefully cared for as the Union soldiers. She lost her 
life from too great devotion to the work. 'Booth' told us 
that his friend had been ill, and in his anxiety to reach 
home had over-estimated his strength. Taking my Aunt's 
hand in his and looking her full in the face, he said, 
'"Would you befriend us if you knew us to be enemies?' 
Her reply wag, 'If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he 



i 










■* if"-., 







BRVANTOWN. 
The Place Gen. Oana Reach^^d on the Mornlne and Remained 
During the Day of April I5th, 1865. While Booth Was 
Resting That Same Day at the Home ot Or Mudd. Only 
Three and a Half Miles Away 







"' _ ''Wf;!!l?'^i;;';'"'*'"''^;Tv'y'^i|j^^^ 




HOME OP DR JfVDD, 
Where Booth and Hero'.J 3u/ad All NlfhV 




Surrattsville Tavern. 



?¥' 




it^'-^^^=h 












""^ 



K 
H 



Home of Capt. Sam Cox 



WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 33 



thirst, give him drink.' 'Yen are a noble woman, and 
have ministered to a man whose life can illy be spared; 
may God bless you for your kindness' was 'Booth's' reply. 
Aunt entered into life eternal December 31, 1864, and 
never knew the names of these men, or the tragic death 
of 'Booth'. Nor did I, until t.incdn's death know who 
Booth was. Nor until over thirty years did I know the 
name of the sick man, until I read his death notice in 
1896 or 7. I was a very ycung girl at the time of this 
meeting and I am the only one living of the quartette. 
I shall never forget these two hours, nor the shock I re- 
ceived at seeing Booth's face as the face of an assassin. 
I had woven a romance arrund him. and expected to see 
his beautiful brow crowned with laurels. Alas for my 
dream. Both men were in citizen dress. General Thomas 
was a medium sized man (short compared with my father 
ard brothcrss who are all 6 foot and over), dark mustache, 
closrly cropped hair, swarthy complexion: had a white silk 
handkerchief knoltrd around h's neck. The piece I refer 
to spoke of his illness in 1863 in Philadelphia, from a 
wcu'^d rn the back of his neck; (that accounting for the 
handkerchief), that when rn his way to join his command 
he was recognized in Baltimore as nn escaped prisoner 
of war; and was taken to Fortress Monroe." So he must 
have been captured the dav after we saw him. I can 
not remember the initials of his name, and he must have 
been in the thirties when I saw him; for he was much 
older than Booth. Since reading that sketch I remember 
that Booth's sister, Mrs. Clark, lived one three squares 
from my Aunt, and I suppose she was caring for him 
in his illness. I think this General Thomas must have 
belonged to a Virginia family. Was there not more than 
one General Thomas in Confederate Service?" 

Neither of the Oklahoma Thomases proved to be the 
one wanted, and she was advised to write to certain parties 
at Richmond, Va., which she did, locating the Thomas she 
was after, but who had died some time previous. 

It seems that J. Wilkes Booth was then associated with 
General Bell in efforts to free Confederate prisoners, for 
which General Bell was subsequently hung by the Federal 
government. One of Booth's beneficiaries was the General 
Thomas for whom Mrs. Walton was searching. He was 
a Confederate and had been taken prisoner, and confined 
in Fort Delaware, from whence by the friendly and sym- 
pathetic aid of Booth he escaped. The General Edward 
I>. Thomas referred to was a Brigadier in command of a 
Georgia brigade, and was an uncle of Heck Thomas, the 
famous member of the "big three'' marshals who gained 
^ch fame in out-law hunting in Oklahoma, and who 



34 WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 

with Honorable W. H. Tilghman and Chris Madscn cut 
central figures in Mr. Tilgh-nan's movie — "Last of the 
Oklahoma Outlaws." Heck Thnmas served as cornier for 
his uncle the last three years of Ihe Rebellion, beinp only 
14. years old when he entered the service. Died at Lawton, 
in 1916. 

Verily this Walton inquiry seems in some respects 
rather coincidental, inviting to the field of speculation. 
Why comes from the far east westward half way across 
the continent to Oklahoma this weird Booth incident at 
this particular time when he was in wanderings on the 
border fringes of th's very section? And then the name 
of Henry "George" Thomas, the "George" being quoted — 
the name under which Booth went at th^ time rf com- 
mitting suicide at Enid five years later. What force was 
behind it all? Cculd it have b^en the Aunt referred to 
by Mrs. Walton? and if so, might she not have had other 
Booth maUeis under veil which the world will never 
know? There are other transpirirgs wljicli seem coinci- 
dental that might lead to the field of speculation: Boston 
Corbett, who killed s^me ere. alleged to be Booth, at the 
Garrett farm in 1865, drifted west into Kansas at thi.. 
particular seasrn, where he subser-uenlly b'came sergeant 
of thp Kansas Senate; thence to Texas wliere Booth spent 
the '70's, and asa'in in later days, and wh^re he. Corbett, 
went mad and died. It mav be called to mind th^t Boston 
Corbett shied clear as pcssible rf the Booth episrde matter 
and that any inadvertant reference to h's part in the 
Garrett home tragedy crused a discernable quivering, a 
slight voice-tremor and biting of the lips. So far as" the 
Historia min knows, Boston Corbett never mentioned the 
name of Booth, his only reference being, and that only 
when the question was pressed: "We — killed a man." in- 
variably using the "we." Another thing may not be 
altogether out of the line of coincidentals: That at the 
very date of the Walton letter — that is, the same year — 
1897, General D. D. Dana emerged from his garden at 
the old Maine home for the first time to give to the 
-world through the Boston press his account of the tracing 
of Booth so minutely throughout his wanderings, from 
crossing the Potomac bridge to Bryantown, to Dr. Mudd's, 
the Cox home, the Patuxent river, the Potomac; the neigh- 
ing of his horses and their slaughter to keep them silent; 
what Bnrth said, how he now and then turned in his 
saddle — his very thoughts, uttered and unuttered, during 
these hide-and-seek dodglngs until the final "ending of the 
trail" at the Garrett home and burial of the remains 
"under a slab in the navy yard near the jail," according 
to General Dana, and at various other places at the same 



WANDERINGS OF J. WILKES BOOTH 35 



time, as stated by various other eminents. Indeed what' 
a line of inconsistencies, incoherencies, discrepancies aind 
coincidentals conspire to set the mind wondering, and the 
imagination wandering tlirough vauge fields of speculation f 
Even the writer is not wholly immune from the arrows 
of the speculative archer, although he was in conscious 
existence at the time of the trngedy which left its in- 
delible impression. In fact it f('l to his lot to assist in ^ 
receiving telegraphic reports of this tr;:gedy from tli h ur 
of firing the fatal shot to the closing of last ceiei i !-'.ies 
over the remains of the d: :id presiden.. During th '80s 
the writer filed this report with the Kansas Hist^'rlcai 
Society, which be was partially instrumental in establish- 
ing during a meeting of the Kansas editors at Manhattan, 
April 9, 1879. In taking this report from the wires the old 
Morris system was used — indentures on a paper ribbon 
which automatically unwound from a reel much like those 
used today only in movies where the young stock gambler 
unwinds and reads the market's up and down to see 
wiietlier he wins and gets the girl, or goes broke and loses 
her. The report was transcribed on long sheets of yellow 
"onion peel" paper, and made quite a voluminous roll. As 
the writer had never been in the East and Booth had 
never be< n in the West before the great national tragedy,- 
there had been no physical meeting with him. Yet por- 
traits of the tragedian as given in the press and in maga- 
zincii immediately following the assassination and subse- 
(juent. were strongly engraved on memory's scroll. If the- 
affirmative is permi.'^sible in.'^tead of guess, the first meet- 
ing was at Topcka, Kansas, some time in the middle '80s. 
Passing tlie Crawford restaurant, then tlip leading provin- 
der shop in the city, a gentleman was noticed occupying a 
chair just outside and near the open door, leaned back in a 
safe angle against the wall. The stranger was in a rather 
nonchalant mood, gently twirling a small cane between the 
thumb and forefinger of one hand and as gently twisting at 
the tips of his raven black imperial mustache with the 
other. The writer dropped into a chair nearby, whereat 
. the stranger released his chair from the wall and brought 
it to a square position. This stranger was in a neat-fitting- 
suit of black, coat of Prince Albert pattern, and the hat 
of the Stetson order, though with a rim somewhat broader 
than the usual. Hir hair was jet black, of silky texture, 
and inclined to curl or wave at the bottom. On squaring 
the chair, the stranger cast a hasty glance at his visitor, 
then cast his eyes a trifle down, with a meditative expres- 
sicn, at tlie sau'C time bringing tlie hand in which he 
held the cane to his mustache as he gave the tips anothi^r 
grntle twist. Then he again leaned back against the wall. 



96 WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 



and looking into the upper blank recited a few lines in 
a truly dramatic vein, though rather low. Cutting short 
as if to recover from inadvertancc, he once more brought 
his chair to a square position. The writer was impressed 
at the strangeness of the stranger, at his dramatic bear- 
ing and ventured a trifle familiarity. Slapping the stranger 
on one knee, who at first gave a quick stare between re- 
sentment and surprise, but in an instant assumed an at- 
tentive pose. It flashed upon the mind of the writer that 
his new and ephemeral companion was either a theatrical 
man or a dramatic reader. Acting upon this he arose and 
gave an inviting glance down at the stranger, who als« 
arose. As a test to surmise, the writer remarked: "I be- 
lieve I will take a walk over to the new theatre." (But 
recently erected, a block or so west of the Crawford.) 
"The new the-a-tre." the stranger remarked, as he slightly 
inclined his head and peered up from beneath black silken 
brows. Raising his countenance and with a side glance; 
"then you have two the-a-tres, (not exactly questioning, 
nor exactly in surprise, but in seeming effort to disguise a 
knowledge of the fact.) With this he stepped to the 
writer's side, slightly resting one foot as he placed a 
hand on one slioulder, more friendly than familiar. "I 
presume we shall meet again — possibly." (The latter word 
in a tone of question half aside.) "I hope so," was the 
reply. "I like to meet people, and never meet anyone with- 
out a hope of meeting again. Excuse proverbial Yankee 
curiosity in asking j'our name, and I may sav, your line." 
"Well," he returned, slightly turning as he twirled the 
cane and twisted at his mustache a moment, "I have pot 
been bold enough to ask your name nor your profession. 
"Campbell,' was the immediate interpose: "and yours?" 
"Let me see," with a trifle meditative pause, then looking 
his questioner straight in the eye, "how does Thomas, or 
Johnson strike you, with a traveling suit, for instance?" 
With this, the stranger lightly pressed the writer's shoul- 
der, and in a manner that bordered on seeming regret at 
parting, turned away and leisurely passed inside the res- 
taurant twirling his cane. While there was so much 
peculiar about the incident, the exact date cannot now be 
recalled. A few years after, while on a Rock Island 
train somewhere between Pond Creek and Kingfisher, a 
gentleman entered from another car and seated himself 
by the writer. There was something in the appearance 
of the newcomer whidi at once impressed "Where have I 
seen that face before," was the first unuttered flash. 
There was the black curving eyebrows, the black imperial 
mustache, the black flowing hair, all of which called back 
the incident at Topeka; but this man was in gray clothes 



WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 37 



of business cut, and a Scottish plaid cap. At Enid one of 
the occupants of the seat just in front got off, while an- 
other man entered and took the seat, placing a grip on 
his lap, on whidj was visibly lettered "C. Carlton." He 
also carried a bundle of show programs in which the new 
seat-mate seemed .specially interested. Tapping the young 
man lijrhtly rn Ihe shoulder, a program was handed over 
before he had time to speak. This he held up in front of 
him with a sort of critical quiz. "Do you belong to the 
profesh?" was asked by the young man, at which the seat- 
mate peered over the edge of the program with a staring 
frown. "The pro-FESH !" as if it was the term that 
l^iqued. "No!" And the seat-mate hid his ire behind the 
spread program a moment. Then as if to amend for in- 
advertent breech, he asked: "Where do you perform?'' The 
last word after a pause ,as if trying to coin some word 
commensurate with "profesh." "O-o— let me see," said the 
young man, scratching below and behind the right ear. 
"We show all over — everywhere," with an air of pomp. 
"•I mean your next stand." "Oh," and the young man 
referred to his memorandum. "At the El Reno theatre." 
"So! And they have a the-a-tre at that village," with a^ 
humorous twinkle. .At this juncture Kingfisher statioih 
was called and the writer got off the train, reflecting on 
the peculiar long "a" in theatre that called up the Topeka- 
incident. In fact this long "a'' like an unbidden tune, 
kept up its intrusion for some time. 

Referring to this incident on the train, the writer 
calls to mind that in 1893 Charles Carlton, with blonde 
hair, etc., put on "Nevada the Gold King" at the Kingfisher 
hall with a local cast, Miss Henrietta Parker (now Com- 
den) in the leading lady role. Mr. Camden, J. S. Ross, 
Dr. Spangler, Miss Mize, Mina Admire, being among others, 
of the cast, the writer as "Nevada." 

The third meeting with the mysterious stranger — and 
right here it may be well to state that at neither of these 
meetings did the writer recognize the part.v referred to as 
Booth, nor does he now know that it was him. Hence in 
designating the party as Booth is wholly in the presump- 
tive. It was at the Waukomis Hornet office during the 
afternoon of January fi, 1903, when he stopped immediately 
in front of the door, planting one foot on the entrance silT 
where he paused seemingly to be recognized before enter- 
ing. The stranger had black hair, brows and mustache 
and was dressed in a black suit, the coat being Prince 
Albert, tlie hat of the Stetson pattern, the entire showing 
the ravages of wear, but dean. There was the little cane 
between thumb and finger going through involuntary twirl- 
ings. There was a noticeable furrowing in the features. 



38 WANDERINGS OF .1 WITKES BOOTH 

and beneath the veneerinp black a slijrht trace of gray, 
▼ifiible, however, only on closest observation, and recallable 
only through subsequent events. "Well, come in and look 
out," said the writer as he noticed the stranger, who 
stepped inside. The wear of years were such that the 
writer did not at first identify the newcomer with any one 
whom he had ever met before; although there were out- 
lincis on memory's wall that read a previous meeting some- 
where at some time, but where? There was a classical 
bearing, a manly pose of gentility that stamped him as 
no common tramp, and this was decidedly emphasized with 
his first utterance. Tipping his liat slightly, working the 
little cane and looking- straight face-to-face with the 
writer, and in a pleasing voice of culture, inquired: 
"Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Campbell?" reach- 
ing his hand as the cane became idle. "That's my name," 
returned the writer as he reciprocated the gentle grasp of 
hands. The newcomer referred hurriedlv to a memoran- 
dum, then: "W. P. Campbell?" "W. P.— that is the name I 
go by, at least." At this the stranger seated on a high 
stool which stood near the door, and resting one foot on the 
floor, gave the little cane a succession of twirls and his 
mustache as many twists, then looking the writer square in 
the eye, and with seriously inquisitive tone: "Did you 
ever know any one to go by a name not really his own.'' 
"I may have known many, without knowing it," was the 
reply. The stranger dismounted from the stool and walked 
slowly to and fro in a meditative way for a moment, with 
the now familiar cane and mustache feature. "If not too 
busy," again taking position on the stool, half sitting, with 
one foot on the floor. "Always busy, never busy," replied 
the writer, taking a seat near the stool with his feet 
cocked on the desk: "Fire away." Again, quite deliber- 
ately climbing from the stool the stranger drew near, wit"h 
such peculiar expres.einn on his countenance that the writer 
involuntarily arose and squared himself face to face with 
}iis questioner. The stranger stepped back a very brief 
pace as if to give his gestures play. Then closely eyeing as 
if to rivet attention, and with index finger as close as 
rourtesy wnrrnnted, with dramatic pantomine: "Before 
leaving Fl Reno — I came from there — I was directed by 
Mr. Hensley to call on you, the same by Mr. Eyler (prob- 
ably Ehler) ns T came through Hennessey." "Very kind 
in my friends," the writer interposed, "but what's the 
drive ?" "Exactly," as the stranger readjusted him- 
self ssquare face to face, preceding with slow yet deci- 
sive index-finger gestures and dramatic head accompani- 
ments. "It is a story, the — story — of my life!'' with strong 
emphasis on the last three words. "A story (pause) that 



WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 39 



will startle — that will make the very world set up and 
take notice." For a moment there was a mutual eyeing, 
he seemingly to note the impression he had made; on the 
writer's part more in a puzzle as to what it all meant- 
After a moment's suspense, the stranger began a to-and-fro 
meditative pace with cane and mustache accompaniment. 
"My friend," said the writer, "from what I have seen of 

you " The stranger turned abruptly, and in a tone of 

surprise suppressed inquiry: "You have seen me before?" 
"I surely have." The stranger took a half sitting posture 
on the stool closely eyeing the writer and with seeming 
unconsciousness of it, slowly twisting at his mustache. 
"But just when and under what circumstances — didn't I 
meet you in Topeka once?" continued the writer, meeting 
the starry gaze of the stranger, who, with a downward 
glance: "Possibly," then resuming his recent attitude, "I 
have — I think I have been there."' The stranger had 
descended from his perch on the stool, and began a medi- 
tative to-and-fro as he replied without looking up: "I — 
HAVE been ther^." "As I said," continued the writer, 
as the stranger seated on one corner of the desk, one foot 
resting on the floor as he side-faced to the writer. "If 
you will permit me," once more continued the writer, 
"from what I have seen of you, and I need not go back 
of this meeting, right here, and from yrnr manp^r, yrur 
bearing and language — everything, I should judge you 
capable of writing your own story." "Possibly — probably — 
that is so," returned the stranger as he stepped from the 
desk and leaned back with both hands resting on the 
stool behind him. "But it wouldn't be me," quickly shift- 
ing the drift and again assuming the former position on 
the desk corner. "How would it seem to you to be your- 
self, and yet not you? No matter what you write, or say, 
or do, whatever your achievements, how high your ambi- 
tion may reach — it is not you " Getting from the 

desk, and facing the writer, with strong index-finger, "NOT 
YOU!" Turning with the last words and slowly pacing, 
in a fairly pathetic undertone, semi-solus: "Not me." In 
a sort of rambling way that comported with his mind, 
evidently, the stranger alternated with the stool position, 
and uneasily to-and-froing, cane and mustache fingering, 
and talking in a fragmentary way as bits of his story were 
brought out, mixed with inquiries seemingly to test the 
writer's familiarity with Washington life, and the Potomac 
country. 

Classing the stranger as more than an ordinary man — 
dramatic reader past the meridian of use; or a one-time 
knight of the footlights, now too tedious to be entertaining, 
yet too noble for slight, the writer made casual notes 



40 WANDERINGS OF J WII KES BOOTH 

merely cut of respect, being frequently admonished with: 
"Now, just a minute, I'm not quite ready for that." 
Finally I asked the stranger's name. With an intimation 
that more about him would be pleasing. "I advertise as 
a painter." ".Scenic?" "No — well, I guess I could paint a 

scene — with, a brush, but " and he started as if to 

leave. "There's a joh in this town, if you care for one. 

A brand new building " Without waiting for further 

details, th? stranger replied, "Thanks, my friend; however, 
I wi'l not rppnse lonkinnr over your new structure." We 
started. When about midway of the street, Scott's opera 
hcjise was pointed out, with the remark: "You see, this 
little town is on the may — even has a theatre of her own. 
"Rather ssnall place for a the-a-tre." Here the stress on 
the "a" was as had been the case on two other occasions. 

"The prrpiietor wants a set of scenery, and " "Many — 

ruiiierous tlianks," came as an eniphatic interpose, as he 
placed rne hand on tlie writer's sh ulder — the same thrill- 
ing touch as that in the Trpeka incident. "I would not 
Ih'nk f r a nni'irnt rf such n jrh; the the-a-tre has all 
the reverse rf charms for me." To avoid further embar- 
la.ssing th? stranger, the writer remarked that the weather 
vas quite rn.)!\yable f )r January. "Enjoyable no doubt to 
Ihrsc capable of cnjrymcnt," returned the stranger. Just 
thfn on fncing cast the evening sun cast long shadows in 
front. "Tlie davs are growing ^hoitcr," said the writer as 
h" rlancrd at tlif' shadows. "Yes, and as the days grow 
th'irter, the shadows lengthen." said the stranger as he 
swiped al^ng the shadows with his cane. "Did you ever 
chase a shadow?" casually enquired the writer. After -a 
moment's pause in seeming reflection the stranger replied 
as a slight sigh escaped: "They have chased me — are ever 
chnsing me." Slf^w in semi-solus: "Shadows of the past." 
Then with a sudden shift as if to recover: "Shadows of the 
past wouldn't be a bad title for — say — a story, eh?" To 
vhich the writer remarked in half query: "Why not 'Lights 
and Shadows?'" The sti anger prodded with his cane a 
T^mment, then in drawn words and serious tone: "Suppose 
there were no lisrhts?" To which: "With^^ut lichts th^re 
'would be no shadows — haven't you ever had lip'li'^s flit 
mthwart your path?" The stranger gave a nervous twirl of 
the cane and a twist at his mustache: "Verv seldom and 
far between, one — to say how long ago would be to give 
away my age. The other — no matter. I>ike tho one of 
boyhood days, it was fairly dazzling, but only a flicker, a 
transitory beam that lured a moment with promis"; then — 
merged with the shadows." 

On returning to the office before entering, the straneer 
made as if to leave, but was persuaded not to be in a rush. 



WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 41 

"Oh, no," he casually returned, he assuming a pose against 
the stool while the writer resumed a seat at the desk and 
began indifferently fumbling at a bunch of pencilings. Just 
then as the writer lifted his hand a sudden whiff of 
wind blew a few sheets of manuscript in pencil from the 
desk to the floor. The stranger was quick to arrest the 
flying pages, and handing them over remarked: "Brain, I 
presume, of — black lead." • Receiving the pages with due 
thanks: "No — simply .jottings of little thoughts as they 
come up to file away," handing the stranger a few pages 
which he read to himself with growing interest as he 
pantomimed. "You, too, must have bowed at the shrine 
where beauty awakens love. I think I discover elements of 
histrionic flights. Were you ever* on the stage?" He was 
informed to the contrary except in an amateur way. Just 
then the writer arose and began rubbing and shaking his 
right leg to stimulate ciiculation. "Rheumatic?" inquired 
the stranger. "No — merely an uneas>' feeling caused by a 
rupture sustained during the rebellion." "Ah, I see." Then 
"I notice it is the right limb," as he advanced his left 
foot and lifted the pants leg an inch or so as if to indicate 
that he, too, wore a scar. 

As if quoting: "Ah, what have we here?" Holding 
the penclings up before him: "Never ask for a kiss, and 
you'll never be refused one." Glancing at the writer: 
"And never get one." To which the writer replied: "That 
will be up to you." After a moment in seeming attempt 
to parry words: "But as purchased soueeze of the hand 
never reaches beyond the wrist, so purchased kisses die on 
the lips." The writer taking a side-glance at the stranger: 
"Who said anything about purchasing? Just take it. Stol- 
en kisses are sweetest, any way." Another moment in a 
parry study: "But it is only the mutual kiss of love that 
binds heart to heart." Then casually giving his mustache 
a twist and his cane a twirl as he took a pace or two. 
"However, you have taught me a lesson. But, I fear me, 
my friend, the lesson comes too late." Half in solus: "If 
I had only thought of that back there — not so very long 
ago." Long breath as he twirls cane. "What might have 
been." Once more he scanned the pencilings until his eyes 
restfd on something which seemingly interested him, if not 
giving worry. After a careful scanning: "Ev^ery Caesar 
has his Brutus." Turning to the writer and somewhat 
nervously tapping the pencilings with fore-finger: "Why 
— why' did you write that?" knitting his brows. Then as 
if to cover any lapse: "But not every Caesar hath his 
Anthony to bury him and — to praise him with covet cen- 
sure." At this point the stranger seems to have first 
noticed a vased calla recently presented by a friend: "You 



42 WANDERINGS OF J. WILKES BOOTH 

seem to be somewhat esthetic as well as — er — romantic. 
With your permission," as he takes the vase from the top 
of the desk and gently strokes the bloom: "Ah," holding 
up a tribute to the calla written on a card he first reads a 
few lines, with pantomimes, then seemingly involuntarily 
reads audibly: 

"O, Calla — Love's emblematic flower, 

Fair blush on white, a brief alluring dower. 

And yet while beauty lingers on thy bloom. 

How sweet, how delicious thy perfume, 

O, Calla! Transient as thy folds so fair, 

Is love that lures, then seals us in despair! 

A moment holding in thy bewitching spell, 

Like love that halts ,then bids abrupt farewell. 

O, Calla, frail — how soon thy beauties fade; 

And fall like hether-down from summer glade! 

Thy charms though brief — a momentary lure. 

And yet how .sweet the moments they endure! 

Like love that halts, then bids abrupt farewell. 

Still memory holds on lips thy chrismed kiss." 

The writer never thought much of the tribute, but as 
rendered by this stranger it seemed great. There was em- 
phasis, in gesture and tone the most highly eloquent and 
dramatic of anything the writer was ever privileged to 
hear or observe. Possibly to some extent from the fact it 
touched that vain spot all possess to some degree. 

On returning the pencilings the stranger stood a mo- 
ment as if to mark any impression his "eloquence" may 
have made, asked the time of day. On being cited to an 
office clock, Hoyt's "Hole in the Ground" was brought into 
requisition with a cute twinkle: "Mr. agent, is your clock 
right?" Again as if to note impressions. "I see you have 
changed garments under the spout — " said the writer, "and 
as usual, got soaked." With this he remarked that perhaps 
it was so late the story might be postponed and 
inquired if the writer would be in Enid soon. 
On being informed that he often went there: "Come 
Saturday and we can go more into details." "All right," 
replied the writer, scarcely expecting to do so. "You can 
locate me by inquiry at the Watrus Drug Store — I am not 
much on the street." At this, he took the writer warmly 
by both hands, and looking him straight in the eye in the 
manner that was a cross between affection, regret at part- 
ing, and a sounding of thoughts. "You need not walk," said 
the writer, reaching into his pockets to bring forth car 
fare. "No offense, I assure you, and I accept your kindly 
suggestion for the deed, but I have plenty of funds — 
enough, at least, and to pay you well for what I am sure 
you will undertake to do. There are so many things 



WANDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 43 



money cannot buy," as he gave a warm grasp of hands; 
"such as that friendship I am more than persuaded I shall 
find in you." Still holding hands, but turning as if 
choiring back some bitter emotion — "Good-bye." Then 
facing the writer, and with a firm hand-grasp, in a tone 
of confidence: "You are a man; you have enjoyed the best 
in life, yet tasted of its bitterest dregs — no — not the bitter- 
est — 'Only perhaps that slight potion all men taste. A 
man — I may trust you with — but there has been no secret — 
as yet revealed. Remember Saturday; and once again- 
good — no; au revoir." After a warm graisp, he let go 
hands, and headed for the station. 



Before closing the chapter one other incident is brought 
up. It was only a week or so since that Col. James DufiFey, 
who was a police official at El Reno, when George stopped 
there, but who is now employed at the state capitol, ex- 
hibited a photograph to the Historia scribe with the 
remark: "Gaze on that and tell me if you ever saw it 
before" — this viithout the least hint as to who it was. "I 
surely have," replied the writer as he glanced at the face," 
Col. DuflFy still holding the photo in his hand. "That is 
the man who called on me at Waukomis in January, 1903, 
and who a week later committed suicide under the name 
of David E. George— J. Wilkes Booth." "You are mis- 
taken," said Col. Duffy, assuming a super-positive atti- 
tude. "John Wilkes Booth was killed at the Garrett 
home in Virginia, April 25, 1866, by one Boston Corbitt. 
I am sure of this because David E. George, while in a 
'spiritually' talkative mood told me so himself — in El Reno 
— only a short time l)efore committing suicide. George 
said he knew J. Wilkes Booth was dead, 'because,' 
said he in a dramatic way, 'the next day after he was 
killed, the body was taken down the river to a lone island 
twenty-seven miles from Washington and secretly buried 
there.'" David E. George might have added that '"I know- 
that John Wilkes Booth is dead, because the body was 
taken to Washington City and secretly buried in a room 
in front of the navy building near the old jail, and a piece 
of artillery drawn over the place to obliterate it. ' Further 
because the body was taken down tihe Potomac ten miles 
from Washington, and weighted with stones and sunk. 
Also, because the body was taken to a secluded spot be- 
tween the Garrett farm and the Potomac and placed in 
a pit and consumed by quick lime; because the body wa.s 
taken to Washington City and secretly buried in the yard 
of the old penitentiary, from whence it was subsequently 
exhumed and given to the Booth family and buried in 
Green Mount Cemetery, Baltimore, where a marble marks 



44 WANDERINGS OF J. WILKES BOOTH 

; the head of the mound (unnamed, however.) I know that 
John Wilkes Booth is dead because the doorkeeper at 
Ford's theatre, who was an intimatet of Booth's and who 
assisted in the Green Mount ceremonies, declared it wag 
NOT the body of J. Wilkes Booth. Ais still more in- 
vincible proof that J. Wilkes Booth was the man killed 
at the Garrett home the fa<;t may be cited that the 
j^overnment, so secure in its convictions decided not 
to submit the body for identification; nor was a single 
cent of the va.st reward ever paid. Further — the body 
was quick-limed, drowned, buried — variously at various 
places and curiously enough by different agencies at one 
and the same time; so let it go at that. He it dead, dead, 
dead! numerously dead." After quoting "George," Col. 
Duffy handed the photo over, with: "Now look at the 
back of the card." On the back was found inscribed the 
names, "J. Wilkes Booth," taken at a spiritual seance in 
New York, 1894, by the mother of the Du Fonts, famous 
the world over as powder manufacturers. 

A friend of Historia states that durinj? a conversation 
only a few days ago, Mrs. Anstein of El Reno, at whose 
hotel Booth (under name of George) stopped for many 
months, dechired her belief that George and Booth were 
the same. She .«aid she was quite well acquainted with 
him, and recalls many things which now more than at the 
time, convince her. At one time, she says, when he was 
slightly under the influence of liquor, some one gravely 
offended him, at which the offender was dramatically in- 
vited to pass on or be passed on, which he reluctantly 
did, and passed on, muttering an implied or construed 
threat. "That man has no business fooling with me," said 
^he irate Booth (or George), turning to Mrs. Anstein, 
side-gesturing toward the retreating offender. "He don't 
know who he is fooling with — I killed a thousand times 
better man than him — he mustn't fool with me." Then calm- 
ing. Booth said to Mrs. Anstein in a confidential tone: 
"Can you keep a secret?" At which Mrs. Anstein replied 
in a careless way, "Did you ever know a woman to keep 
a secret?" Booth bit at his under lip as he turned away. 
"I sincerely believe George, as we knew him. had at that 
moment in mind telling me his secret," said Mrs. Anstein. 
The fourth and last time the writer saw Booth was at 
Enid, at Pennyman's northeast corner of the public square. 
He was standing with his back to the inner wall, his head 
sligh-tly bent forward, and his voice once so resonant with 

f charming melody, gave out no sound.. Gray was dusting 
through the brows, the mustache and long wavy hair, the 

■ artificial dyes used in keeping them in raven hue gradu- 
ally fading away. The starry lustre of once captivating 



WAXDERINGS OF J WILKES BOOTH 45 

ryes was sealed under closed lids. The hands were white 
and sinewy, folded listless across the breast. The face was 
a trifle swollen, over it a faint pallor of wraith, and yet 
a delicate smile of ineffable sweetness as one in pleasant 
dreams. It was death. That voice which once so thrilled 
and charmed, gesturing with eloquence fairly sublime, and 
held captives in its miraculous power, whether in Taming 
the Shrew, or in soliloquies over the browless Yorick, ray 
kingdom for a horse, or over his Desdemonia smothered 
in a pillow of Jealous -rage. Never again; fore