97^.7L63 Richards, D.J. 
 DR 39 S The Story of Abraham 
 
 Lincoln's assassination. 
 
LINCOLN ROOM 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 

 By D. J. RICHARDS 
 "Dad the Rambler" 
 
13.1LU3 Li 
 
 n 3°is 
 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 February 12th, 1809-1930 
 
 One hundred and twenty-one years ago, according to the 
 vague records of the event, Abraham Lincoln was born. A 
 child of the southern wilderness, his character was moulded 
 and wrought in an environment of loneliness, sorrow and 
 privation. His heart bled from early youth until under the 
 weeping skies of a sad April morning in 1865, it was drained 
 of its last crimson drop. The joys of the world never knew 
 him, to happiness he was a stranger, life's burdens clung to 
 him with ever-increasing weight until death struck them 
 from his tired shoulders. The great duties that came to him 
 were duties of pain and sorrow ; the triumphs he won were 
 triumphs that crushed his soul with grief. 
 
 Looking back upon his strange career, it almost seems as 
 if the mjan walked or stalked across the stage of life with 
 a crown of thorns upon His brow, bearing a cross to his cal- 
 vary, beholding the world through a mist of tears. He loved 
 his country unselfishly ; he served it nobly and with unfal- 
 tering faith. His spirit knew neither malice nor hatred; no 
 impulse of hatred ever sought refuge in his bosom. He was 
 gentle of speech, sympathetic, charitable, compassionate, pa- 
 tient, tender, brave. Destiny made him the broken-hearted 
 commander-in-chief of an embattled Nation turned against 
 his native south land; duty drove him through the tragic 
 ordeal ; and at the end fate struck him down and left his 
 estranged kinsmen bowed and dumb over his prostrate form. 
 
 History reveals no counterpart of Abraham Lincoln. In 
 body, heart, soul, and mind as well as the fateful career 
 that God marked out for him. The world has had no other 
 like him (save one), among all its sons that have led man- 
 kind from Eden down to this present time. The Pyramids 
 may sink beneath the desert sands, the temples of earth 
 crumble into dust of ages, the fame of the Caesers vanish 
 in the darkness of oblivion ; but surely as long as the race 
 
endures it will behold, in the familiar figure of this mar- 
 tyred son — strange, gaunt, silent, colossal, with agony writ- 
 ten in the lines of his kindly face and love glowing in his 
 wistful eyes — the saddest, gentlest and most pathetic figure 
 in all human history. 
 
 These words, written by the talented and gifted George 
 M. Bailey, of the Houston Texas Press, gives in a nutshell, 
 as it were, a complete composite picture of that one whom 
 we today look upon as the Saviour of the Nation — Honest 
 Old Abe — the martyred President — Abraham Lincoln. It 
 is not my purpose to say anything of his life. I leave that to 
 others who, some of them at least, were intimately acquaint- 
 ed with him. I cannot say that I ever met or saw him except 
 that night that followed, what the people of this Nation 
 were beginning to think as the dawn of a brighter day in 
 our history. It is of that night and events that followed that 
 I wish to relate — being one of the only two now living, of 
 the audience present at the time of the President's assassina- 
 tion on April the 14th, 1865. The other being Uncle Joe 
 Hazelton, living in the Glendale Hospital, who was a boy 
 of 1 1 years at the time. 
 
THE STORY OF APRIL 14TH, 1865 
 
 I was a boy, in my 15th year. A student of the Colum- 
 bia-Pennsylvania Classical and Military Institute. It was 
 my last year and because of my good record and a reward 
 my Father, Mr. David Richards, one of the Pioneers in the 
 Iron Industry of this country, at the time General Man- 
 ager of the Maltby-Case Rolling Mills at Columbia, prom- 
 ised, should I pass examination, he would take me with him 
 when he went after an Uncle of mine who was then in one 
 of the hospitals in Washington. At that time he thought to 
 be able to see the President himself, by reason of the fact 
 that he (Father) had taken an active part in the second 
 campaign, speaking with Hon. W. D. Kelly known as Pig 
 Iron Kelly in the states of Pennsylvania, Ohio and New 
 York. Father was known as the "Blair County Puddler." 
 ( )f course I was told that I would not only see the Presi- 
 dent but would also have the chance of taking his hand. 
 The boys of the Institute were envious of me and many 
 wished that they could have my trip. 
 
 After the surrender of General Robert E. Lee, and the 
 surrender of Richmond it was only a question of a few days 
 when Peace would come to a Nation that had been almost 
 torn asunder by the ravages of war. There was great re- 
 joicing especially in the North. President Lincoln had as 
 it were, lain aside the sword sheathed it in its scabbard and 
 was holding out both hands, one bearing an olive branch, 
 the other the dove of peace. His great heart went out in 
 sympathy for the defeated. General Grant had arrived in 
 Washington on the 13th of April for the purpose of mak- 
 ing arrangements for disbanding of the most part of the 
 army. That day was spent in general rejoicing. After tak- 
 ing part in the services of that day and after being excused 
 from further duties connected with the program for the 
 day, Father and I left on the night train Washington bound. 
 All along the line, out in the fields in the country, at the 
 depots, we found bonfires burning, crowds at every station 
 shouting and huzzaing. On reaching Washington on the 
 morning of the 14th we found the people wild with joy. 
 
We stepped from the train about eight o'clock that morning. 
 
 The first thing that attracted my attention was the pro- 
 fuse decorations seen on all sides. On our way to the Na- 
 tional Hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue, we heard bands play- 
 ing lively music, soldiers and sailors marching to and fro. 
 Men and women as they met each other on the sidewalk 
 would embrace each other and looking heavenward exclaim 
 "Thank God the war is over, now we can be friends again." 
 Houses all over the city almost covered with bright bunt- 
 ing and at night as brilliantly lighted as possible — remember 
 we did not have electric lights in that day. 
 
 After securing a room at the hotel and something to eat 
 we called up Mr. Kelly, our representative, who came to 
 see us ; and shortly after his coming we were told that the 
 President was with his cabinet busily engaged in trying to 
 solve the problem of the hour, so that we would not be able 
 to see him, perhaps for several days. We were also unable 
 to get my uncle from the hospital. The Adjutant General, 
 from whom we were to get the permit was also busy, so we 
 spent the best part of that day in sight-seeing, getting back 
 to the hotel in the late afternoon. Seeing a copy of the eve- 
 ning paper and in looking over it I found an item that I 
 thought would interest Father. This was a notice to the 
 public informing them that President Lincoln, Mrs. Lin- 
 coln, General and Mrs. Grant would be at Fords Theater 
 that night to witness the play of the "American Cousin," 
 it being the thousandth night — nine hundred and ninety- 
 nine nights in New York — this being the thousandth, but 
 the first night in Washington. This night was also to be a 
 benefit one to Laura Keene, the leading lady of the play. I 
 immediately called Father's attention to the news item, then 
 he turned to the clerk of the hotel and asked, "Is there any 
 chance of getting two tickets for the show tonight?" The 
 clerk replied, "I don't know. The ticket scalpers have 
 bought up the house. If you get tickets for tonight you will 
 have to pay a stiff price for them." "Well," said Father, 
 "see what you can do for us." Then turning around to me 
 he said, "I guess this will be our only chance to see him, 
 
Dai." Shortly after the clerk informed Father that he could 
 get two tickets but that he would have to pay $2.50 each 
 for them. The tickets were procured and a few minutes 
 before eight o'clock we were seated in the theater. We sat 
 about the center of the auditorium. It was the first time 
 for either Father or myself to be in a regular up-to-date 
 theater building. It is not necessary for me to state but that 
 for a time I was all eyes, taking in what appeared to be 
 "fairy land" to me. I looked about me, seeing the ground 
 floor, the galleries, the stage, but especially the boxes on 
 either side of the stage. I noticed the first row of boxes with 
 a partition between, making two boxes which were on a level 
 with the floor of the stage, then above this on the right 
 there was another box, the partition had been removed from 
 this, turning the two boxes into one. The extra decorations 
 was a notice that this w^as to be the President's box. 
 
 At the hour of eight, the time of the rising of the cur- 
 tain and opening of the play, the audience seemed to be rest- 
 less and when the curtain went up there was much dissat- 
 isfaction and considerable complaints heard. That great 
 audience, many of them like ourselves, there to see the Pres- 
 ident more than the play, felt they had been imposed on and 
 so paid but very little attention to the play, becoming more 
 and more irritated at themselves for being such fools as to 
 part w r ith their money just to see a play that ordinarily 
 would not cost them more than from 25 to 50 cents to see 
 at any other time. I might mention here that they did not 
 give one a synopsis of the play in those days — they had pro- 
 grams that gave the names of those w T ho took parts and 
 what particular character they were to portray. The the- 
 atrical people of that day expected one to come again and 
 again, if they would get a full conception of the play. 
 
 It was about 8:22 p. m. when a signal was given from 
 the front to the orchestra leader, of the arrival of the Presi- 
 dent and party. The orchestra at once playing "Hail to the 
 
 LIBRARY * TT.inn 
 UNIVERSITY OF lU-WOB 
 
Chief," and as the party entered, the audience rose to their 
 feet, we did too, then on looking to the right we saw Mr. 
 and Mrs. Lincoln, Major Rathbone, Miss Harris, and sev- 
 eral plain clothes men, coming in and going toward the spe- 
 cial box. General and Mrs. Grant had decided at the last 
 hour to go north — he to New York and she to New Jersey 
 to visit her son then in school. Mr. Lincoln appeared at 
 the front of the box with his old stove-pipe hat placed on 
 his left breast, when he bowed to the left, center and right, 
 then took his seat, and the play continued. 
 
 I afterwards learned that the Jewelers Association of 
 America ntet in convention at Washington later in the year, 
 and at one of their sessions they passed a resolution to this 
 effect: Resolved, that from and after this date all signs of 
 dummy watches or clocks, indicating the jewelers business, 
 shall show on their face the hands pointing to that time, 
 22V2 minutes after eight, it being about the time when the 
 President came into his death — entered the theater. 
 
 A few minutes after ten o'clock there was a pause or 
 break. It was generally understood that some one of the cast 
 had forgotten their cue. This, I believed the cause until the 
 year of 1921 when I found the reason for the break. I was 
 sent a clipping from the New York Times to this effect : 
 "Died in the Old Actress Home, Mrs. Catherine Evans, 
 age 91. She was one of the cast in the play of The Ameri- 
 can Cousin. It was her turn to come on but as she came 
 through her dressing room door, a nail caught in her dress, 
 and she went back to have it sewed up." On telling this 
 over Radio KFJ on the 12th of February, 1928, a letter 
 was sent by a lady living in Seattle in which she desired to 
 thank the speaker, saying that as she listened in she imagined 
 she heard her mother's voice — who had passed away only 
 seven weeks before — telling the story she had so often heard ; 
 then she added rtty mother was maid and companion to Mrs. 
 Evans, and was the one who sewed up the rent. 
 
During this pause a man rode up in the rear of the the- 
 ater, dismounted from his horse, came up back of the stage, 
 and went at once to the President's box. The plain clothes 
 men on guard, knowing him to be John Wilkes Booth, a 
 well known actor of the day, and presumably acquainted 
 with the play, and thinking that he was going in to tell the 
 President of what had occurred before the party came in 
 and keep them posted as the play continued, just gave him a 
 passing glance and allowed him to go in, then turned to- 
 ward the stage to see what was coming next. Booth went 
 in and passing quickly to the rear of the President, fired his 
 pistol, a Derringer, the bullet striking the President near 
 the base of the brain. He dropped his gun and then went 
 to the front of the box and leaped over on to the stage. 
 
 In the meantime the audience was waiting and when they 
 were about to give signs of impatience there appeared in the 
 center of the stage, coming from somewhere, but they did 
 not know at the time, a man. This man fell on one side, 
 caught himself, then stood before the audience, with a dag- 
 ger in his uplifted hand cried out "Sic temper Tyrannis" 
 and then immediately went back of the screen or curtain. 
 Many in the audience recognized him and thinking he had 
 taken the part intended for another — he himself was not one 
 of the cast — they began to applaud, and kept that up for 
 sometime. 
 
 During this, a second pause, there was seen a man walk- 
 ing quickly on the right hand side aisle. He went to a man 
 sitting on the rear seat and tapping him on the shoulder said, 
 "Come quick the President has been shot." This Major 
 Surgeon, for such he was, arose and both went toward the 
 box. At this time Major Rathbone who had at first, hear- 
 ing the shot and seeing the President slump down in his 
 chair, came to the front of the box and cried out as he point- 
 ed to where Booth had gone, "Catch that man." Then it 
 was that a gentleman sitting next to the Surgeon Major 
 
realized what had been done and he sprang to his feet on 
 to his chair and shouted at the top of his voice, "The Presi- 
 dent has been shot." Then there was a rush made for the 
 stage and had it not been for Mr. Ford standing up with 
 uplifted hands saying in a loud clear voice, "John Wilkes 
 Booth has shot the President, gone to the rear of the the- 
 ater, mounted his horse and is on his way to the Long 
 Bridge to go into Virginia," there would have been a stam- 
 pede and no doubt many would have been hurt and per- 
 haps some killed in the rush. The house was soon cleared, 
 troops and police coming in. The body of the President was 
 then taken to a house opposite the theater and there re- 
 mained until morning, where at a little after seven o'clock, 
 April the 15th, he breathed his last. 
 
 Secretary Stanton, the aristocratic Secretary of War, who 
 had learned to love and respect Lincoln for his sterling 
 worth and qualities, forgot the President's lowly and hum- 
 ble origin, placing his hand on the dead man's brow and 
 raising his other hand towards the heavens said, "He now 
 belongs to the Ages." It seems now that it was a prophecy 
 which is being fulfilled more and more as the years go by. 
 It may be as time goes on, the American people may forget 
 the name of Washington, as the Father of our country, but 
 as long as time will last the name of Lincoln will be remem- 
 bered as the Saviour of the Nation and for which he gave 
 his life blood. 
 
 After the President's death his lifeless body was taken 
 to the White House and there remained until the morning 
 of the 19th of April, where a short service was held. Then 
 it was taken to the Capitol, and laid in state until the 21st, 
 after which it began its journey of 1500 miles, reaching 
 Springfield on the 3rd of May, where the body was viewed 
 by thousands, and on the 4th of May laid away in Oak 
 Ridge Cemetery, Springfield, Illinois. All along the way of 
 the funeral train there was an outpouring of the people, 
 
and expressions of sympathy, sorrow and sadness shown, 
 such as never witnessed before. Truly a great man had 
 fallen. 
 
 On the morning of the 18th of April, 1865, the two pas- 
 sengers of the 14th — father, uncle and son — were again on 
 the train bound homeward. The Washington they left was 
 not the same they first saw. Instead of gay bunting, lively 
 music, huzzaing of the people, there was a stillness that 
 could be almost felt. The houses deeply draped in morning, 
 drums muffled, funeral dirges filled the air, men and women 
 meeting each other spoke in whispers. Strong men with 
 bowed heads and tears streaming down their cheeks was no 
 unusual sight as they spoke of the Martyred one. Many 
 men who before had spoken of him as the "Yankee mud- 
 sill," the "black abolitionist," "traitor to his Southland," 
 coupled with curses, knew naught but words of praise and 
 approval now. What will become of us was the question 
 of the hour? It was at this time there came the voice of 
 a man who stood off a mob that w r ere about to wreck the 
 "New York World" building, w^ho being in New York at 
 the time, was called on, thinking his presence might have an 
 effect on the mob. General Garfield it was, afterwards 
 President and another one of our Martyred ones. Repeat- 
 ing a few passages from Holy writ he closed by saying, 
 "While the President is dead we should remember this 
 truth that God and the Government still lives." The mob 
 broke up and retired to their homes. 
 
 As we from time to time look on the face of Abraham 
 Lincoln seeing that sad look, the wrinkled brow and marks 
 of care written all over his countenance, we cannot help but 
 think if the words of praise, the beautiful bouquet of flowers 
 being daily placed on his grave had been placed in his hands 
 when living, and heard the voice of cheer while engaged 
 in his work, what a difference there would have been in his 
 looks, and that reminds me: 
 
"If with pleasure you are viewing, any work another s doing, 
 If you love them, if you like them, tell them now ; 
 Don't withhold your approbation, till the preacher makes 
 
 oration, 
 And he lies with sunny lilies o'er his brow; 
 For no matter how you shout it, he wont know a thing 
 
 about it, 
 He wont see the tear drops you may shed ; 
 If any praise is due him, while he s living give it to him, 
 For he cant read his tombstone when he's dead; 
 More than fame and more than money, are the comments 
 
 kind and sunny, 
 And the hearty warm approval of a friend; 
 It will give to life a savor, make him stronger, make him 
 
 braver, 
 Give him heart and spirit to the end; 
 If any praise is due him, while he's living give it to him, 
 Let the hearty word of hearty warm approval now be said; 
 Don't wait till life is over, and he is underneath the clover, 
 For he can't read his tombstone when he's dead." 
 
BOOTH'S END AND BURIAL 
 
 When Booth the assassin sprang from the box after hav- 
 ing shot the President, his spur caught in the flag that was 
 used in the decorations which caused him, as he reached the 
 floor of the stage, to turn on his ankle spraining it so bad 
 as to make it impossible for him to travel at day keeping 
 himself hid until night when in pain he kept going. Had 
 it not been for this he might have got to the Confederate 
 lines ; but as it was, he did not get any further than a place 
 called Port Tobacco, now Bowling Green, near the Mary- 
 land and Virginia border line, before he was caught up with 
 by Lieutenant Baker and a posse of men. He was found hid 
 in a barn belonging to a man by the name of Garrett. The 
 men surrounded the barn and demanded that he surrender. 
 Booth said he would never come out of there unless as a 
 dead man and then insolently told the Lieutenant that he 
 had two carbines and plenty of cartages which he could use 
 and furthermore said I'll get a dozen of you before you get 
 me if you come through the door. I am safely entrenched 
 behind some tobacco and I dare you to come in. Then an 
 order was given to fire the barn. When one end was burn- 
 ing Booth shifted to the middle of the barn. Then an order 
 was given that kindling be got and the other end of the 
 barn fired. The barn like other tobacco barns had w T ide 
 cracks between the boarding and Booth leaning heavily on 
 his crutch raised his carbine intending to shoot the first one 
 that came in line with his sight. Sergeant Brown Corbett, 
 one of the posse from Kansas, looking through the cracks 
 on the other side of the barn, seeing Booth with his raised 
 gun and knowing Booth meant business, rammed his gun 
 through a knot hole and fired the shot that was to end the 
 life of Booth. The bullet struck Booth very near the same 
 spot as that fired by him at the President — in the rear of the 
 head about the base of the brain. Then some of the posse 
 rushed in and brought him out of the barn and took him to 
 the porch of Mr. Garret's house, where for nearly two hours 
 and a half he suffered intense pains not only of body but 
 mind as well. He was conscious most of the time after being 
 
shot until the last breath. Among other things said by him, 
 he was heard to say, "Tell mother I died for my country. 
 I did what I thought was for the best." His last words were 
 "Useless, useless." Then just as the morning sun brilliantly 
 lighted up the awful scene, he passed away dying in the very 
 state — Virginia — whose motto he had disgraced. 
 
 At various times there have been newspaper notices ap- 
 pearing in different cities and states, stating that the man 
 shot in the barn was not Booth but some other man. Again 
 the place of his burial has been questioned. One of the rea- 
 sons given as his identity is that the relatives and friends 
 of Booth would never have made such earnest appeals for 
 the body had it not been Booth. They certainly would not 
 want the body of a stranger. This in my opinion settles the 
 question as to the certainty of it being Booth and none 
 other. As to where the body was buried and why, the rea- 
 son for it being considered best that no one should know the 
 spot is explained in this way — first, it was commonly 
 rumored by some that his body was buried somewhere in the 
 burial ground of the Old Capitol Prison ground, the exact 
 spot not known. The second lot of opinions was that his 
 body was taken one night when it was dark, wrapped up in 
 canvass, heavily weighted with irons and then taken down 
 the Potomac until the party reached deep water and then 
 and there thrown over board. One reason assigned for the 
 place being secret was that it might be that there would be 
 some fanatics, who if they knew of the place, might make 
 of it a shrine. There were some men living then that were 
 like one man, wealthy, having a beautiful home with large 
 lawn in front of his home, living in one of the larger cities 
 of the Southland, who erected a monument and on it was 
 inscribed the words, "Sacred to the memory of John Wilkes 
 Booth, who died for his country." This monument was 
 standing up to the time of the last Great World War. Some 
 of the soldiers encamped there in looking over the city, see- 
 ing the monument, out of curiosity went up and after find- 
 ing what it was, reported their find to their comrades, who 
 declared that such a thing should no longer disgrace Ameri- 
 
can soil. These men, some of them sons of the Southland, 
 others from other parts of our now united country, went 
 after dark and destroyed it, literally grinding it in to dust 
 that the wind carried away. Some six years ago, in 1923, 
 a man who was a soldier in the Union army, and at the time 
 stationed in Washington, died. In looking over his papers 
 there was found a sealed envelope marked, "Not to be 
 opened until after my death." It was opened and there was 
 a sworn statement to this effect: This contains something 
 which I swore I would not divulge as long as I lived. Then 
 followed these words, "I the undersigned with four other 
 men and Lieutenant Baker, on the night of Booth's burial — 
 naming the men — took the body of J. Wilkes Booth, 
 wrapped in canvas and heavily ladened with iron, and took 
 same for some distance down the Potomac River and there 
 it was thrown overboard. I can not state the exact spot, 
 but we knew it was in deep water. After thus disposing of 
 the body we returned to Washington, reaching there at sun 
 rise." An effort was made to find the men mentioned, but 
 it was learned that all had passed away. In their search 
 however, they did discover the witnesses that had signed as 
 to the signature, but they, when questioned, stated, "Of 
 course we had some curiosity to know what the document 
 contained but the old man simply said, that you' will not 
 know until after I am dead. This to my mind is the truth 
 regarding his place of burial. Many rumors were current 
 after the assassination as to who was behind this dastardly 
 act. But after every effort made, it was found that the 
 whole diabolical scheme was originated by Booth who had 
 gathered a number of others about him to carry out not 
 only a plan to kill the President, but members of the cabinet 
 as well. In fact an effort was made the same night that the 
 President was shot, to take the life of Secretary Seward 
 while in his rooms at the hotel where he was living. 
 
 As an evidence of the truth of the story of Booth's death, 
 the following is given, coming from a gentleman residing 
 at San Diego, Calif. It was written after hearing the story 
 over Radio KHJ, February 12th, 1928, and the writer 
 
states: "Gentlemen, please thank Mr. Richards on my be- 
 half for the story of Lincoln's assassination as told over your 
 radio station today. I knew personally, one of the members 
 of the squad that captured Booth, and his account of that 
 affair tallied with that told by Mr. Richards." 
 
 May I close by saying if there was a need for men in this 
 Nation of ours in the days past, there is a greater need now, 
 and the prayer of every true American should be, "God 
 give us men and women at this time in our Nation's history 
 as well as in the history of our State and City." 
 
 A time like this demands great faith, strong hearts and will- 
 ing hands; 
 
 Men and women wanted who have honor; who will not lie: 
 
 Men and women wanted whom the spoils of office will not 
 buy : 
 
 Men and women wanted who will stand up before the dema- 
 gogue, 
 
 And damn his treacherous flattery without blinking ; 
 
 Men and women wanted who live above the clouds in public 
 life and private thinking. 
 
 With such men and women as this then we expect greater 
 homes, greater states, greater cities and communities. Then 
 we may see, and not till then, a Nation that will be great, 
 not in the sight of men and other nations, but great in the 
 sight of Him who is the ruler of the universe. May we re- 
 member that — 
 
 That Nation's great that fears the Lord, 
 Whose songs are measured by his M ord : 
 Where justice rules twixt man and mar, ; 
 Where love controls in act and plan ; 
 Where breathing in his native air, 
 Each soul finds joy and peace in prayer. 
 
Thus may our Nation ever great, be (iod's delight, man's 
 best estate. May He — the Almighty One — be with us every 
 moment, every hour, uphold and keep us by His Almighty 
 Power. 
 
 Yours very truly r , 
 
 "DAD THE RAMBLER." 
 
 D. J. Richards, 
 1226 Georgia Street, 
 Los Angeles, Calif. 
 
CRESCENT PRINTING COMPANY 
 
 825 West Pico Street 
 
 Los Angeles - California 
 
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS URBANA 
 
 973.7L63DR39S C001 
 
 THE STORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S ASSASSINA 
 
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