Chapter XIII…

Chapter XIII

The Difficulties of Detection—Moving on the Enemy—A Hebrew Anarchist—Oppenheimer’s Story—Dancing over Dynamite—Twenty-Five Dollars’ Worth of Practical Socialism—A Woman’s Work—How Mrs. Seliger Saved the North Side—A Well-merited Tribute—Seliger Saved by his Wife—The Shadow of the Hangman’s Rope—A Hunt for a Witness—Shadowing a Hack—The Commune Celebration—Fixing Lingg’s Guilt—Preparing the Infernal Machines—A Boy Conspirator—Lingg’s Youthful Friend—Anarchy in the Blood—How John Thielen was Taken into Camp—His Curious Confession—Other Arrests.

THE preceding pages will have given to the reader facts enough to show the difficulty of the task assumed, as well as the manner in which we went about the work. One of the greatest of the obstacles to be overcome arose from the character and habits of thought of the Anarchists themselves. They heartily hated all law, and despised its constituted representatives. The conspiracy was well disciplined in itself, and it had been specially organized with a view to guarding its secrets from the outside world and protecting its members from the consequences of their crimes. Thus I soon found that it would require peculiar address, patience, secretiveness and diligent work to lay bare the great plot to the world.

I can find no better place than this to testify to the help given me throughout the case by Assistant State’s Attorney Furthmann, whose work was a most important feature of the result finally brought before the Criminal Court.

The protection of society is an interest so momentous that it would be a false modesty in me to refuse, for fear that I should be charged with egotism, to analyze the processes by which the conviction of the confederates in the Haymarket murder conspiracy was bought about, and accordingly I will now say, once for all, that I believe that careful, systematic detective inquiry, conducted with some brains and a good deal of grit, can unravel any plot which the enemies of law and order and our American institutions are apt to hatch. It will require tact. It will require intelligence. It may require the hardest and most persistent work that men may do—but about the result there can be no doubt. Our government and our methods are strong enough for the protection of the people and the maintenance of law and order, no matter how dangerous may seem the forces arrayed against it.

The various steps taken may be gathered best from the memoranda made upon the arrest of each Anarchist who had been conspicuous in his order and who was supposed to know the secret workings of the “armed sections;” and, in reading the particulars, the general conclusion will become irresistible that the men who posed as the bloodthirsty bandits of Chicago became arrant, cringing cowards when they found themselves within the clutches of the law. In the galaxy of trembling “cranks” there were a few exceptions, notably George Engel and Louis Lingg, but the demeanor of the common herd under arrest proved that their vaunted bravery had been simply so much talk “full of sound and fury.”

One of the first arrests which I made was that of Julius Oppenheimer, alias Julius Frey. This man was a peculiar genius and was possessed by an unbounded admiration for Anarchists and all their methods. He had come to America five years before and had been brought up an Anarchist. He was a Hebrew of a very pronounced type, twenty-five years of age, a butcher by occupation, but an Anarchist in and out of season. Whenever he succeeded in securing employment he was sure speedily to lose it by his persistent teaching of Anarchy, and in some places people even went so far as to drive him out of town. If fortunate enough to get work in an adjoining town, he would tell his fellow workmen of his prior experience and curse what he termed his persecution for conscience’s sake. Whenever his Anarchist beliefs had been expounded, he was promptly dismissed, and in one town he was politely informed that unless he got out in short order he was liable to find himself hanging to a tree. This sort of thing embittered him still more against society, and finally he abandoned all attempts to find work. He resolved himself into a tramp, and, in traveling from place to place, he sought to convert every other tramp he met to his revolutionary ideas.

He soon learned that Chicago was regarded all over the country as the home of Socialism, its stronghold and citadel, and he made haste to reach it so that he too could become an agitator, with nothing to do and plenty to eat and drink. He had been in the city only a few days when he learned of the Socialistic haunt at No. 58 Clybourn Avenue, and there he soon made the acquaintance of Lingg and other, lesser lights, whose principal aim seemed to be to loaf around the saloons, guzzle beer and talk dynamite. This pleased Oppenheimer. He had traveled many weary days, but at last he had found what he had so long sought. He was received cautiously at first, but finally with open arms. One night he attended a meeting at the number given above and heard Engel speak about killing all the police in Chicago. Oppenheimer was delighted, and on the adjournment of the meeting he grew very enthusiastic, threatening to visit dire punishment on both the police and the rich. He stepped out on the sidewalk, and, just then encountering a policeman, he ejaculated:

“You old loafer, you won’t live much longer!”

The words had hardly been uttered when Oppenheimer found himself prostrate in the gutter. The policeman passed on, and not one of Oppenheimer’s comrades dared to come to the Anarchist’s assistance or proffer sympathy. This was a treatment he had not expected, but he smothered his wrath and continued to attend all the meetings of the “revolutionary groups.” He grew stronger every day in the good graces of his comrades, and at one of their meetings he was asked, along with others, to secure some of the “good stuff” and bombs. He responded and secured a substantial outfit. When the 4th of May came he happened for some reason to be some eighteen miles out of the city, but the moment he heard of the explosion he hastened back at once and hunted up his old friends to help them destroy the town.

On the evening of May 7 he was encountered by Officer Loewenstein at 58 Clybourn Avenue, in Neff’s Hall, and taken to the Larrabee Street Station. He was put into a cell and kept locked up for about a week. Gradually it began to dawn upon his mind that he was in trouble, that possibly the police had secured evidence against him, and so at last he sent for me.

“I see,” he said, “that it is foolish to fight against law and order, but you must excuse me for my actions. I read so much of that Most trash and other books that I was really crazy. I lost my reason and did not know what I was doing. Now I will tell all I know, but I will not testify against any of these people.”

He was given no special assurances, but he unbosomed himself fully and became extremely useful in giving needed information. One day he said that if I would take him out in a carriage he would show where he had a lot of dynamite bombs planted, and added:

“Before going after the stuff, I will show you some of the worst Anarchists in the city, but in doing so I will tell you candidly my life is in danger. If these men see me they will shoot me on the spot.”

He was assured that he would be fixed in such a disguise that no one would recognize him, and, consenting to go under such conditions, Oppenheimer was rigged out like a veritable darkey. Officers Schuettler and Loewenstein were detailed to accompany him, and together they visited Sullivan, Connor, Hoyne, Mohawk and Hurlbut Streets, where many Anarchists then lived, and where Oppenheimer pointed out the houses of many notable conspirators.

Unfortunately, in one of the localities visited, colored people were very scarce, and it did not take the boys long to discover the sham, when they at once began shouting, “Here is a lost, crazy nigger,” and they followed him, throwing bricks and stones. At other times the officers were obliged to hustle away with their “Hebrew negro,” as they called him, as soon as possible. They got back to the station about eleven o’clock that evening, and, entering my office, Oppenheimer was permitted to view his ebony countenance in a mirror. He was startled by his make-up and declared that it was most artistically done.

“Mein Gott, if I was asleep,” he exclaimed, “and wake up, and looked in the glass, I’d think I was a real nigger.”

On the next day he was taken by the officers, in a carriage, to Lake View, about three miles from the city limits, to locate the bombs. It was a rainy day, and it was no easy matter for Oppenheimer to determine the right spot, although he kept a sharp look-out. He had planted them during the night, and that added to the difficulty. Finally he directed the driver to a grove used as picnic grounds, and they soon reached the spot. It now rained hard, and lightning and thunder filled the air with light and noise. Oppenheimer hesitated about alighting from the carriage.

“It is dangerous,” he said, “to go near the place. The bombs I have planted here are all loaded with dynamite, and charged with poisoned iron, and this heavy thunder may explode them and kill us all.”

Officer Schuettler said that he himself was familiar with the properties of dynamite, and assured him that there would not be the slightest danger. Oppenheimer then became somewhat braver. He jumped out and beckoned to his companions to follow. They proceeded to the dancing-platform, in the middle of the grove, and Oppenheimer, having removed some short boards, making an opening large enough for the admission of a man’s body, asked Loewenstein to take hold of his legs, and, when he shouted, to pull him out, adding that when he had been there before he had had a hard time getting out. Oppenheimer then went in. On giving the signal, he was pulled out, with one bomb in each hand. He was thus lowered and pulled out until he had produced thirteen bombs. They were of the heavy gas-pipe make, loaded with dynamite and rusty nails, with cap attachments, and ready for use in four seconds. To show that he had exercised great care to preserve the “stuff” properly, he asked to be lowered again, and this time he brought to the surface an oil-cloth table-cover, which, he explained, he had used for wrapping up the bombs so that “they would not spoil on him.” He also fished out of the place two large navy revolvers fully loaded. Having finished, Oppenheimer gave a sigh of relief and remarked:

“Now I feel relieved. As long as I had these things I always felt that I must do some damage with them. I had them once in the city (May 5), and my mind was made up to throw some in the North Side Post-office. I also had determined to go to the Freie Presse office and blow up that d——d Michaelis, the editor of the paper. And then I was going to kill myself.”

At about this time Oppenheimer possessed two large 44-caliber navy revolvers and seemed withal a desperate fellow. When the parties returned to the station he asked me to keep him there until all trouble was over, and for three months he became quite a character about the establishment. The defense in the Anarchist trial made several attempts to secure his release, but Oppenheimer declined to go. He was taken out frequently for regular exercise by one of the officers, but he always went in disguise.

He proved such a valuable aid to the State that State’s Attorney Grinnell ordered his release, but as he was nervous lest some one should shoot him on regaining his full liberty, he begged me to send him to New York City. He was accordingly furnished with money and clothing and sent away. While he was at the station he gained twenty-seven pounds and declared he had never been so well taken care of in all his life. He bade all the officers who were working up the Anarchist cases good-by and was given safe escort to the depot by Officer Stift. Some time after his arrival in New York he was discovered by an Anarchist, who telegraphed to Capt. Black that he was there if wanted, but the Captain did not seem to specially care for him.

The information he furnished the State was substantially as follows:

“I came to Chicago May 5, 1886, in the morning. I went to Seliger’s house, 442 Sedgwick Street. I know Seliger and his wife and Louis Lingg. I am an Anarchist. I think the workingmen are not treated right in this country. I have always attended Socialistic meetings here. I have attended several meetings where the speakers would call us to arms and to all kinds of weapons, so that when the time came we could secure our rights. It was urged that we should be prepared to fight any one who would obstruct us or oppose our ideas. A meeting was held at Neff’s Hall on or about last February. A man who lives on the West Side, on Milwaukee Avenue, and who keeps a toy store—I do not know his name—was there. He was accompanied by a young lady. Now that you show me this picture [Engel’s] I will say he is the man, and he made a speech at that meeting. He told us to prepare ourselves, and if we were too poor and could not afford to buy arms, he could tell us about a weapon that was cheaper and better in its effect than arms. He then spoke of dynamite, but in his speech he always called it ‘stuff.’ He explained how to make dynamite bombs. He said: ‘Take a gas-pipe, cut it in the length of six inches, put a wooden plug in one end, fill it with dynamite, then plug the other end, and drill a small hole through one of the plugs. In this hole put a cap and fuse.’ Then the bomb was complete. He also told us of a place on the West Side, near a bridge, where we could go and steal all the pipe we wanted. We could then buy the ‘stuff’ and make the bombs ourselves. I bought seven or eight bombs some time ago from a man named Nusser or Nuffer, at 54 West Lake Street. The man used to work for Greif. I paid him twenty-five cents apiece for them. They were dynamite bombs, and I purchased them at night. I had a little book that told all about making and using dynamite bombs. I know something about the armed group. They are not known by their names. They are known by numbers, so that the police cannot find them out in case they have done anything wrong. There never would be any more than three in a job—that is, if there were any persons to be killed. Number one would find the second man, and this second man would find the third. No questions would be asked. The first man and the third man are not supposed to know each other. The first and third would know the middle man, but in case of trouble, and should there be a ‘squeal,’ only two parties could be given away, leaving one to get away and save himself. I have tried some of the dynamite bombs I had, and they worked splendidly. I also have a big navy revolver. Everything attempted hereafter will be done according to the instructions given in a book printed by Herr Most, of New York. Those long gas-pipe shells I see before me are like one that was shown me at Neff’s Hall last winter. A man named Rau had it there and showed it to the boys. I am five years in America, and have always been a Socialist. On Wednesday morning, May 5, when I heard that there had been a bad blunder committed by our boys at the Haymarket, and read an article in the Freie Presse condemning us, I got very mad. I took my five dynamite bombs and started out to get revenge. My first intention was to blow up the North Side Post-office. The next place I decided to go to was the Freie Presse office to blow them up. If I found I was in danger of being captured, I made up my mind to kill myself right there and then. Lingg wanted me to cut a hole in the wall in his room to put away a lot of dynamite bombs and dynamite, but Mrs. Seliger would not let me do so. A man named Bodendick, a good Anarchist, was well known by August Spies, and considered a rank conspirator. This is the man that went to Justice White’s house and demanded $25, threatening that if he did not get it he would blow up his house. White had him arrested and locked up in jail, and for this reason Spies did not want the man known as an Anarchist, but simply as a crazy man. The Socialists or Anarchists do not care much for Spies or Schwab, but we have kept them and looked upon them as a necessary evil. I know a man named Pollinger, a saloon-keeper. He was an agent here at one time to sell arms, but he did not run things right. He was crooked. The understanding we had was that, in case of a riot or revolution, every man should use his own judgment and do as he pleased, that is to say, commit murder, shoot people, burn buildings or do that for which he was best fitted, so long as it was in the interest of the Anarchistic society. The main idea inculcated in the little paper called the Freiheit, which I have read, is that no rights could be secured until capitalists were killed and houses were laid in ashes. If we would not take a chance on our lives, we would be slaves always. I know positively of fifty men, radical Anarchists, who stand ready to commit murder and to destroy the city by fire whenever they are called on. I know Lingg well. He is a Socialist and an Anarchist and a very radical revolutionist. I heard him speak at 58 Clybourn Avenue, and formed my opinion of him. He told me that Seliger was a coward.”

”“He called me a coward the morning I helped Mrs. Seliger to get the guns out of the house. That morning I was in Lingg’s room when Mrs. Seliger brought in a lot of lead and said to Lingg: ‘Here is your lead.’ Lingg then got mad at her and said: ‘You are crazy.’ He became very much excited, wrapped up his gun, got ready to move, and wanted me to conceal his dynamite bombs in the hall. Mrs. Seliger would not let him do so. Then Lingg was going to carry his bombs out of the house. He finally got into quite a quarrel with her and started out to get a wagon to carry away all his things. I told him to hurry up and get all his dynamite stuff away, also the printed literature he had, as there was danger that the police would be around to search the house. He looked at me and called me ‘a d——d fool and coward.’ Then Lingg asked me to go to the West Side with him, as there was to be a meeting at 71 West Lake Street. Lingg saw my dynamite bombs. I had told him of them. I saw two round lead bombs in his room. I had them in my hands. Lingg told me to be careful and not let them drop, as they were loaded and might go off. They were dangerous, he said. I also saw four gas-pipe bombs in his room. Some of them were not finished. I remember now that Seliger, the Hermanns and Hubner were at the meeting in Neff’s Hall last winter when Engel urged all men who had revolutionary ideas to pay attention and he would explain how to make dynamite bombs. I am glad I am arrested. I now can realize how near I was to ruin through those d——d fellows making revolutionary speeches and exciting the people to commit murder. The books given out by Herr Most are doing more harm among those men than any one can imagine. I have given you facts, and they are true, every one of them. I will swear to them.”

The next arrest was that of William Seliger. When the police had learned that Seliger’s residence had been used as a bomb factory, we wanted him. He was a man about forty-five years of age, a carpenter by occupation, a good mechanic, very quiet and sober, but one of the most rabid of Anarchists. He had filled various positions in the “groups,” and always manifested a deep interest in their meetings. He was popular with his comrades and trusted with all their secrets. He lived at No. 442 Sedgwick Street, in a rear building up-stairs. This was a two-story frame dwelling, and a great resort for Socialists and Anarchists. Officer Whalen had searched the house, finding it a regular dynamite magazine, and, locating his man, telephoned to me that Seliger was working at Meyer’s mill on the North Pier. Officer Stift and Lieut. Larsen were at once detailed, in charge of a patrol wagon, to effect the arrest, and soon the man was produced at the station—May 7. When I confronted him he stubbornly refused, according to the instructions in Most’s book, to answer questions, but when he discovered the evidence I had against him, he broke down and said:

“Captain, I will tell you all, but for Heaven’s sake do not arrest my poor wife. I am to blame for all you found in my house, because I kept that man Lingg in my house against her will—the poor woman! Hang me, but do not trouble her, for she is innocent, and God is her witness.”

Seliger then unbosomed himself, telling of all his connection with the Anarchists since his location in Chicago, and giving valuable information on all the “groups,” their leaders, their places of meeting, their purposes, their mode of operations, the character of the speeches made at meetings, and the manufacture of bombs at his house, giving the names of all calling or taking part in their manufacture. He gave the most important points the State had to work on, and every detail he furnished was fully corroborated by other parties subsequently arrested. He was in the confidence of Lingg, and was also a particeps criminis in the manufacture of the bombs, and gave, therefore, no hearsay statements. What was found in his house and the character of his information are fully shown in his testimony, given in a later chapter, as well as that of the officers during the memorable trial.

After telling what he knew, Seliger was released, on the 28th of May, with instructions to report every day at the Chicago Avenue Station.

Mrs. Seliger was also arrested. She was a small woman about 38 years of age. She was found at No. 32 Sigel Street on the morning of May 10. She readily consented to accompany Officer Schuettler to the station. Mrs. Seliger showed plainly that she had not been in sympathy with her husband in his revolutionary ideas, and proved a prompt and willing witness, demonstrating before she got through that she had done incalculable service to the people of the city.

It was in her house that Lingg made his bombs, and when I questioned her she gave me a great deal of information concerning the man and his methods. All the statements she made and her testimony in court did not vary in the slightest details, even under the most rigid cross-examination. She was found to be a very industrious woman, a neat housekeeper, and she was highly esteemed by all her neighbors. She related how she had lived in misery ever since her husband began to take an active part in the Anarchist meetings, and she stated that after Lingg came to live in the house she had not seen a pleasant hour. She had often remonstrated with her husband and pleaded with him not to attend the meetings, or read any of the Anarchist papers, but to remain at home with her.

Seliger was so completely carried away by the doctrines of Johann Most, Spies and the others that he refused to listen to his wife. The moment he got into trouble, however, he became very penitent and readily accepted her advice in everything.

Mrs. Seliger’s experience on the 4th day of May, when she witnessed the preparation of the bombs, she described as terrible. There she was forced to remain all day, she said, seeing eight men working on the murderous weapons, some making one kind of bombs, some another, others fitting them and loading them with dynamite, and others again putting on the caps and fuse. Throughout the whole operation she was obliged to listen to their bloodthirsty conversation, how they would blow up the police stations, patrol wagons and fire-engine houses, kill all the militia, hurl bombs into private residences, and murder every one who opposed them.

Mrs. Seliger viewed affairs differently and told the conspirators that there were more chains than mad dogs. Another thing they overlooked, she said, was their own families, and should they carry all their threats into execution their families would be made to suffer to the end of their days in misery and want. Remonstrances, however, were useless.

They worked until dark, and then they separated to meet in the evening at No. 58 Clybourn Avenue. Her husband and Lingg ate supper, and then the two put a lot of the bombs into a satchel and started for the designated place. Lingg carried the satchel down stairs and was followed by Seliger.

This was a trying moment, but Mrs. Seliger proved equal to the emergency. Just as Seliger reached the third step, she grasped his arm, threw her arms about his neck, and, like a loving, devoted wife, asked him for God’s sake not to become a murderer.

“If you ever loved me and ever listened to me when I spoke,” she whispered fervently into his ear, “I want you to listen to me now. I don’t ask you to stay at home, but I want you to go with that villain and see that he does not hurt any one. Restrain him from carrying out his murderous ideas. If you do this, I will creep on my knees after you and will be your slave all my life.”

These tender words touched a sympathetic chord in the heart of Seliger, and he promised to do as she had requested, while she sealed the promise with a loving kiss. As subsequent events and his testimony in court proved, he faithfully carried out that promise, and by that injunction of his wife and that fervid kiss of a true woman, hundreds of lives and millions of property were saved.

From the time they left the house until their return, Seliger never left for a moment the side of Lingg. During the evening Lingg was continually prompted by his own treacherous heart to throw bombs, now at a passing patrol wagon, then at some residence or into a police station, and invariably Seliger had some handy reason to proffer why such an attempt would be inopportune at the moment. Lingg finally became suspicious and upbraided Seliger for being a coward. The night passed, and the only harm Lingg did was indirectly in the explosion of one of his bombs at the Haymarket, to the prospective happening of which he frequently alluded during the evening.

It is my deliberate opinion that, had it not been for this intervention of Mrs. Seliger, hundreds of people would have been killed, and probably one-half of the North Side destroyed, that eventful night.

After giving considerable information to the police Mrs. Seliger was released, but kept under strict surveillance.

Seliger faithfully carried out his instructions to report at the station daily for two weeks, and then he suddenly disappeared. Officer Schuettler was detailed to visit his home to ascertain the cause, and was there informed that Seliger had mysteriously left.

“Why,” inquired Mrs. Seliger, “don’t you know where he is; did you not arrest him again?”

On being answered in the negative, she stated that it had been her intention to call on me that afternoon with a view to finding out something about her husband.

It looked like a case of concealment, and Mrs. Seliger was therefore taken to the Larrabee Street Station. She immediately desired to see me, and, when I called, she informed me that three days before her husband had said: “I am going away. Don’t ask me any questions. You will hear from me later,” and then bade her good-by.

She was under the impression that since leaving her he had been at the Chicago Avenue Station. I thought it a ruse and subjected her to a severe examination. I asked her who had been to see them and whether they had not received money from certain lawyers or others. But Mrs. Seliger could tell no different story from that she had already given, and she finally volunteered the guess that possibly her husband had been frightened away.

“If you will only allow me to go,” she earnestly pleaded, “I will neither eat, drink nor sleep until I find him.”

I was now satisfied that she was in earnest, and, having confidence in her, I ordered her release. But from that moment she was watched night and day, more closely than ever. It was found that she visited many houses in various parts of the city, and when these places were immediately afterwards called upon by the detectives it was ascertained that she had invariably inquired for her husband and urged those who knew him to tell him to come home if they should happen to meet him; that she was weary of life, and if he remained away much longer she would not be responsible for any act of hers on her own life.

After several days’ ineffective search, Mrs. Seliger received a letter from her husband asking her to call and see him. She hastened at once, with a throbbing heart and a light tread, to my office. I asked her if she would work under my instructions, and she promptly consented to do everything in her power to help the police. I had come to the conclusion that it would be no easy matter to find the slippery Seliger, but that, if he was not discovered that day, we might at least get on his track.

Mrs. Seliger was accordingly told to wait in the office a few minutes. Two men were sent for, men whom the woman would not know. I instructed them to slip through a side door and get a good view of her while unobserved. A carriage was then ordered, and the driver directed to take the woman to whatever place she might desire, and remain with her even all day and all night, if required. Mrs. Seliger stepped into the carriage, and the horses were soon in a sharp trot. But the conveyance was not alone. No sooner had it started than the two men I have spoken of jumped into a buggy and followed the carriage south, keeping it in good view all the time.

The first stop made was at a place on West Thirteenth Street. There Mrs. Seliger had to identify herself first, and thence she was directed to a place some four blocks away. Arriving there, she was sent on to Sixteenth Street, and again sent to Twelfth Street, near the limits. She was here subjected to a great many questions, and after she had fully proven her identity she was taken to the next house and led into a dark bed-room, where she found her husband. She remained there about three hours, and then, under direction of her husband’s friends, was told to drive to several other places in order to throw any detectives that might be watching off the scent. She did so, but the two men had kept a close watch and were not to be baffled.

When the carriage had started for home, one of the officers returned to the place where she had tarried so long. He represented to the occupants that he was working for Salomon & Zeisler, attorneys for the imprisoned conspirators, to whom Seliger had written a letter, and that in accordance with the request they had decided to protect him and his friends.

“Seliger,” said the officer, “is here, and I want to talk with him.”

The occupants admitted that he had been there and had had a talk with his wife, but that he was at the time on his way home with her.

Mr. and Mrs. Seliger called at the station the next afternoon (June 8). Both entered smiling, but it was quite apparent that Seliger was very nervous.

“Captain,” said Mrs. Seliger, “we are both here.”

“Yes, madam,” I replied; “I am glad you are both here—on your own account.”

“Captain,” again spoke Mrs. Seliger, “I want my husband to testify in court against that villain Lingg. He ruined my home. He is the cause of the slaughter of all these people. He is the cause of the sufferings of the women and children whose husbands and fathers attended the Anarchist meetings. Now, Captain, you see I have been faithful to my promises. I have done as I agreed. You have my husband; he is in your power. You can do with him as you please, but for God’s sake spare his life.”

Mrs. Seliger had scarcely finished her appeal when she swooned away. She had for days been wrought up with intense excitement and haunted with terrible forebodings. The climax was reached when she had executed her commission, and, trying as had been the situation for nights and days, she had courageously borne up in order that she might atone the wrongs her husband had committed despite her most earnest entreaties, and to help in some way to extricate him, who had so cruelly wronged her, from the meshes into which he had madly and ignorantly rushed. Her keen judgment and innate sense of right had swept aside every consideration of the apparent security his concealment might have given him, and her whole soul was centered in his delivery to the authorities that he might not eventually be found and sent to an ignominious death on the gallows. That was her hope, and, much as she longed for his safety, she had bent her whole energies to seeing him brought out of concealment and placed where there might at least be a chance for his life. The struggle had been intense, and it culminated when she so pathetically asked that her husband’s life might be spared. Her emotions then were at their highest tension, and as she recognized the fact that he was now at the complete mercy of the law, from which he had sought to escape, she could bear up no longer.

A physician was immediately sent for, and after applying restoratives it was found she was quite a sick woman. A carriage was summoned, and she was sent home.

Seliger was detained at the station until after the trial of the conspirators. Mrs. Seliger was a frequent caller after that trying day, and remained with him much of the time, cheering him and seeking in every way to lighten his burden, like a true, devoted and loving wife. In a subsequent conversation the circumstances in connection with her visit to her husband at his place of concealment were learned. It appears that at first he emphatically declined to accompany her, and then gave his reasons. One day, while on his way to report at the station, he was met, he said, by a stranger, and threatened that if he ever went near the station again, or sent word verbally or by note or letter to me, both he and his wife would be murdered in cold blood. The threat made a marked impression on his mind. He returned home, but made no mention of it to Mrs. Seliger. He knew, he said, that the threat was meant, and, thinking to save his wife, he concluded to act on the warning and place himself in concealment without her knowledge. He left, as already stated, and decided to keep under cover to await results.

He called first at the house of a widow named Bertha Neubarth, No. 1109 Nelson Street, Lake View. This was a small cottage, with a basement used as a tailor-shop, and, thinking it a secure place, he remained there a few days. Then he went to the house of a friend, named Gustav Belz, who lived near McCormick’s factory, and remained there several days. His next move was to a house on West Twelfth Street, near the city limits, and there he remained until discovered by his wife. The letter he had sent to her was mailed by a trusted friend named Malinwitz, and the purpose he had in sending it was to ascertain if matters had changed any and if I was angry over his sudden departure. On meeting his wife, the first question he asked was as to whether the police had been watching their house, and, on being answered in the affirmative, and informed that she had even been locked up again, he asked for particulars and the cause for her release.

“Capt. Schaack,” she said, “let me out in order to bring you back.”

“I often felt sorry,” answered the husband, “for going away, but I will never go back.”

His wife insisted that he must go back, and said:

“I told the Captain that I would come and see you. The Captain said that he would give you six hours to return, and that if you did not report to his office within that time, he would surely find you and prosecute you for murder. Your chances for hanging, he said, were very good, and you need look for no mercy at his hands. He also said that he had your picture ready, to send out for your arrest on sight, and that it would be useless for you to hide or run away. I saw the picture myself, and the Captain intends to publish a large reward for your arrest.”

“I believe all you say,” said Seliger, struggling with his feelings, “but what would you prefer, seeing me shot or killed by assassins, or hung by law?”

“All these cowards making threats,” replied the wife, “will be arrested. The station-houses on the North Side are now full of the murderers. I know the Captain will take care of us, and, if you are arrested, you will have no one to help you or do anything for you; then you are sure to hang. You had better come with me to Captain Schaack.”

He consented, and she sent word that they would be at the station the next day. Seliger gave himself up, and Mrs. Seliger redeemed her promise. The sacrifice, in view of the uncertainties of the time, seemed great, but had it not been for the honesty and persistency of that true woman, Seliger to-day would lie in an unhonored grave. Both proved strong witnesses at the trial, and shortly after his release they left the city. Reports from them show that he has been cured of Johann Most’s crazy notions. He now denounces Anarchy both in America and Germany, in which latter country he and his wife were born. He has applied himself to legitimate pursuits as a law-abiding citizen, and is prospering.

Seliger, during his interview with me, recounted his connection with the Anarchists as follows:

“About three years ago I noticed an article in the Arbeiter-Zeitung that the North Side group would give lessons to all who desired, in the English language. I went to Neff’s Hall and I was there told that the school was only for members, and that, if I wanted to join, I could do so. I did, and a year afterwards I was elected financial secretary. In looking over the books, I found that the group had 206 members, the most of them being in arrears, but no one ceased to be a member on account of it. I found also that there was a great deal of wrangling and trouble among the members. One faction claimed to be revolutionary, as they were at war with capital. This contention drew the lines pretty sharply, and the Socialistic movement commenced to take a sharp character. Stellmacher, I believe, was executed in Vienna. It was on Monday, if I am not mistaken, in the month of August, 1884. My group decided to commemorate the event and glorify the man. They had posters printed, and about twenty men went to work to post them, especially in the vicinity of the churches. From that day they began talking force and dynamite. At every meeting, Stellmacher’s name was mentioned and his deeds glorified. Some held that Stellmacher was simply a burglar and murderer, having burglarized the premises of Banker Eifert at Vienna and killed one of his children. Rau and Lange were always quarreling over this question. Lange maintained that it was a shame that any Socialist, Communist or Anarchist should burglarize and murder under a pretext of getting money for the cause. Every member, he said, could get enough money in an honest way to swell the fund for agitation and the destruction of capital. Lange said that he was not opposed to the killing of capitalists in the right way, but he did not want to see children killed. Rau would uphold a contrary view. He held that it was all the same, capitalist or child, and said that the children of the rich would grow up only to learn how to enrich themselves at the expense of the working people. Schnaubelt favored murder and thought that it would be best for the Anarchists to form into groups of four or five with a view to killing any one who would work against the laboring people’s agitation. One or two suddenly removed would not arouse suspicion.

“A cigar-maker named Hoffman became a member of the North Side group, and he was never satisfied with the rules, as he regarded them too lenient. He wanted the whole International Working People’s Association made an armed body, but Schwab and Hermann opposed it, as they said that the Lehr und Wehr Verein filled that part of the bill. Hoffman subsequently withdrew from the group and the military organization. He as well as Polling and Hermann wanted the Anarchists to give a commemorative entertainment on the anniversary of the Paris Commune, in March, 1885, and of the clubbing of the working people of Philadelphia by the police. His idea was that rifles should be discharged, and then a woman personating the goddess of liberty should throw a chain away from her body. In this way the three men believed that the agitation for securing arms could be greatly helped. The committee for the celebration of the Commune opposed this plan, especially Neebe and Rau. Neebe held that the celebration of the Commune as generally planned by the committee was for the express purpose of making money to help agitation, and the other features were not necessary. Hoffman endeavored to carry through his plan, but he was knocked out. After some further wrangling he left the group and permanently kept away. At another meeting Rau said that he desired to bring dynamite into the meetings and show how it was manufactured, but no definite action was taken.

“At the beginning of last year [1885], a man named Deters declared that he was an Anarchist and was very loud in his declarations, but he was afterwards expelled for stealing tickets from the Central Labor Union. Poch always claimed to be a Communist, and he became unpopular on account of a dereliction. Haker was also a Communist, but he was expelled on account of being in arrears $3 as a member of the Southwest group. Then Lingg became a member, and from that time served as president of that group. He was always in hot words with a man named Hartwig. During the beginning of April we got quite a number of new members, and they all became strong agitators in the cause. I knew as members of the armed sections Schlomeker, a carpenter; Stahlbaum, a carpenter, lieutenant of the first company; Petschke, secretary of the same company; Kitgus; the Riemer brothers, one a carpenter and the other a painter; Ted, a carpenter; Rau, Bak, Hirschberger, the Hermann brothers, all members of the Lehr und Wehr Verein; the Hageman brothers; the Lehman brothers; Messenbrink, a carpenter; Stak, a tinsmith; Lauke, Feltes and Kraemer, all carpenters, and Siebach and Niendorf, carpenters, living in Lake View. With these two exceptions and those of Lenhard and Krueger, who belonged to the Northwest group, all I have mentioned lived on the North Side. There were also Classner and Sisterer, who belonged to the Southwest group. I know a great many others who belonged to the armed forces, but I don’t recall their names. They all carried revolvers. All I knew about bombs at that time was what I heard Lingg say, that the Northwest group and the Southwest groups and the Bohemians were well supplied with them. Among the Bohemian Socialists I only know Mikolanda and Hrusha and three more whose names I can’t remember.

“At a meeting last winter [1885] of the North Side group, Neebe stated that it was time that every comrade should supply himself with arms and should lay bombs under his pillow at night and sleep over them. Every one should practice so as to know how to handle them when necessary. Every workingman, he said, who is down on capitalists, should kill every one of them, and they should not neglect the police and the militia, because they were hired and supported by the capitalists. He said that he himself would kill one of these loafers and would not turn an eye on him. One in the audience, a barber, whose name I don’t know, said that there were some among the militia and the police who would join them in case of an uprising and cited as an instance that during the riots of 1877 he had spoken to some of them and they had told him that they would not shoot at the strikers. Neebe declared that it was all the same. ‘A man employed by the capitalists,’ he said, ‘is my enemy, even though he is my brother.’ In case of an uprising, he said, every revolutionist should use force on every corner and on the sidewalks, and should throw dynamite wherever these loafers stood or walked.

“The casting of one bomb Lingg had was made of sheet-iron, and the man who manufactured it was shown to me at the office of the Arbeiter-Zeitung. Then Lingg had another casting made out of iron, which he had made at some iron foundry. I saw him have dynamite twice in a cigar-box. Before this he said to me that he had seen Spies at the Arbeiter-Zeitung office, and that Spies had told him that he would give him dynamite. This was about two months before the 4th of May. Friday preceding that day Lingg received a box, 1 × 2½ feet in dimensions, from the West Side, at the hands of a man whom I took to be a Bohemian. Lingg always liked the Bohemians. With a view to learning this man’s address I walked over to the West Side, and I found that he had moved to No. 661 Blue Island Avenue. One evening two others came to see Haker, and Haker told them, as I entered, that I was Seliger. One of them I knew, his name being Kaiser, a carpenter, and the other was a strongly built man of medium height and bow-legged. They were a little embarrassed and said that they did not know what to say under the circumstances. I asked them if they had bombs, and Haker spoke up and said that he would not say anything about it, even to his brother, as he expected a search would be made of his house. But he said they would find nothing, and the other two confirmed his story. It was stated that every one should buy a book, which could be had at cost price, giving directions about the manufacture of dynamite, which could also be purchased very cheap. The North Side group bought one of these books. I was so informed by Thielen, who had seen it.

“A short time after this I was elected a member of the central committee, with four other delegates from the North Side group, who were Neebe, Rau, Hermann and Hubner, and as long as I was a member Neebe and Rau were continued as delegates to that committee. Spies was at the head of it. I attended seven of its meetings, and at one of our sessions, during the West Side street-car drivers’ strike, Spies said that we should take part in that strike. In case the strikers should resort to force against the company and the policemen who protected it, Spies said that he had a few bombs on hand, and he would distribute some of them to people whom he knew. At the same meeting it was proposed that a meeting should be held on the lake front the following Sunday, but there was some opposition to it. Spies, however, declared that the meeting should be held and that every one should be present, well armed. Then, in case the police should interfere to disperse the gathering, they should send them home with bloody heads. The meeting was held, but there was no interference. Spies also proposed that meetings of the committee should be held every evening at the Arbeiter-Zeitung office during the strike, to hear grievances, and that, whenever necessary, special meetings should be held of the various groups. The leaders in the committee were Spies, Rau, Neebe, Hermann, a man named Walter, of the American group, and a small man from the Northwest group with an illuminated nose, who was a very intimate friend of Spies. This man was the founder of the Freiheit group.

“Just preceding this car strike, Haker, who belonged to Carpenters’ Union No. 1, was a strong advocate of the use of dynamite. At one meeting he told some of the members to wait till after adjournment, as he explained that he desired to show them something very interesting. They remained, and he produced a ball of clay, having two parts joined together and a cavity in the center. He told them that he manufactured them, and if any one desired any they could get them from him at a dollar each. I then left.

“Subsequently I called upon Secretary Lotz and asked for the book of membership of the North Side group. I found that Charles Bock was its financial secretary; Hubner, librarian; and Rau, delegate to the central committee, which position he held almost continuously. Abraham Hermann was also a delegate and agent for the sale of arms to the whole organization. The principal speakers at our meetings were Schwab, Feltes or Veltes, Neebe, Grottkau and (while living in the city) Kraemer. During 1885 an Austrian, whose name I don’t remember, spoke very often, but he is now at the Jefferson Insane Asylum. Fischer is one of the founders of the North Side group and always spoke most strongly in favor of Anarchy. Rau, an employé of the Arbeiter-Zeitung, Lingg, Schnaubelt and Emil Hoffman, the cigar-maker, also spoke frequently. Hoffman claimed that he was a great friend of Most and one of the founders of Freiheit of London. He had lived in London several years and was an active member until he left our organization, as I have already stated. Hermann would sometimes take the places of speakers who might happen to be absent from some of the meetings. Hirschberger, of the Arbeiter-Zeitung, and Menz, a carpenter, born in America, generally participated in some of the discussions.

“A man named Kiesling was a member, and after my liberation from the station I was informed by Haker, Kaiser and another man that he had helped a member to escape arrest. Commes, or Commens, had shot and wounded two Jews, and Kiesling was delegated to take him in an express wagon to Lake View, where he turned him over to some members of the Southwest Side group, who then assisted him in effecting his escape.”

Seliger then gave a number of names of members who belonged to the groups he was most familiar with, as follows:

“North Side Group.—Asher, a mason; Turban, carpenter; Huber, carpenter; Heuman, railroad laborer; Stak, cornice-maker; Reuter; Habitzreiter, of the Arbeiter-Zeitung; Kasbe, shoemaker; Menge, carrier of Arbeiter-Zeitung; Hoelscher, carrier of same paper; Jebolinski, carpenter; Behrens, shoemaker. Members no longer with group: Wichman, a saloon-keeper, expelled from Berlin, Germany; Ammer, book-binder; the Thiesen brothers, one a shoemaker and the other a carpenter, and Polling.

“Northwest Side Group.—Blume, carpenter; Elias, carpenter; Fischer, Engel, Lehnhard, Breitenfeld. Blume and Elias left because they were quarreling all the time with Fischer, and they founded the Karl Marx group.

“Southwest Side Group.—Scholz; Fehling, cigar-maker; Kaiser, carpenter; Haker, carpenter; Schoening.”

The next arrest was that of JOHN THIELEN. Thielen was a man about 37 year of age, born near the city of Coblentz, Germany, a carpenter by occupation, and a rabid “red,” living in Chicago at No. 509 North Halsted Street. He had been an Anarchist in the old country, and there had divided his time between talking up the social revolution and running a small grocery store, until business had got so dull that he was obliged to sell out. He then fell back upon his trade for a living. Much as it went against his grain to labor, he had no alternative except to starve. It occurred to him that the stronger a Socialist he became the less hard work he would have to do, and he accordingly availed himself of every opportunity to talk on his pet hobby. At last the officials of Emperor William got after him, and, packing up a few things, he emigrated to America, reaching Chicago about five years before his arrest. He had been here only a short time when he learned that there were a number of men in the city who talked to workingmen about the shortest way to get rich without work, how to have a good time playing cards, drinking beer, attending picnics and balls, wearing good clothes, and smoking good cigars. This struck Thielen’s fancy, and he concluded that at last he had found the place he had longed for during many years. He decided to identify himself with these men, and accordingly made haste to attend all their meetings. It was not long before he proved himself as good an Anarchist as the rest of the leaders. His wife also had become imbued with his doctrines, and had grown indeed more positive than her husband.

They had a son, 15 years of age, a tall, slim fellow. Nothing would satisfy the mother except his induction into the order. After the stripling had become a member, she was still unsatisfied; he must join the Sharpshooters. This the boy did, and thus he fell in with the most rabid of the Anarchists—into the very crowd that gathered in secret session at 63 Emma Street on Sunday, May 2, at ten o’clock in the morning, to hear Engel unfold his murderous plan.

The youth was a close listener and an ardent admirer of the leaders. He also attended the Haymarket meeting, and went there for a purpose. It appears that the order had established, in furtherance of this conspiracy, a line of runners, composed of all the young men who were swift and light of foot, the object being to furnish means of rapid communication between a “commander” and his men. For instance, in the execution of Engel’s plan, a number of Anarchists had gone to Wicker Park, some to Humboldt Park, and others to Garfield Park, on the evening of May 4. Their instructions were to stand ready to obey orders, and, on receipt of a signal, to advance into the city and shoot down all who opposed them. The “commander” attended the Haymarket meeting, accompanied by young Thielen, and it was his intention, the moment the proper signal was given, to despatch the boy on his mission. The boy was then to start on a keen run to a certain place, where he was to meet another runner; the second was to take the message to a third, and so on until the men posted at the parks were reached.

Fortunately, however, young Thielen missed his “commander” when the bomb fell and the shooting commenced at the Haymarket. The boy then lost his courage, like his superior, and applied his speed to getting home as fast as possible.

Young Thielen had been selected because of his supposed coolness. He had been a great favorite of Lingg’s, and had been in that worthy’s room on that very afternoon up to 7:30 in the evening. He had even helped to load dynamite bombs there. When the work had been completed, Lingg had distributed a lot of the dynamite left over to his friends present. Three boxes had been given to Thielen and the boy, and the “stuff” was subsequently found buried under their house, together with fire-arms and ammunition.

When trouble finally surrounded the Thielen household, the wife and mother showed true grit. On being shown the evidence of their complicity in a conspiracy, she neither flinched nor quivered.

“Our whole family are Anarchists,” she defiantly remarked, “and what of it? Try your best, you can’t scare me!”

The son was ordered by the officers to come with them to the station, and as they left the house Mrs. Thielen said to him:

“I want you to brace up and be firm, as you have been taught by your comrades. This is for a good cause. Bear it all like a man.”

The boy was taken to the Larrabee Street Station and put under cross-fire. He was decidedly firm at first, but after he had become involved in a number of false statements and shown that the police knew a good deal about him, he looked at every officer in the station and asked:

“If I tell all I know and tell the truth, what will you do with me?”

He was informed that such a course would be the best for him and that it might afford him a chance to get out of his troubles. This satisfied the youth, and he gave a long and strong statement, which others subsequently corroborated. He then explained that he had been misled into reading all sorts of nonsense on Anarchy. He had eagerly studied all books on the question, and, being encouraged by his parents, had taken a deep interest in all the meetings. He worked whenever he could find employment, but at all times his mind was centered in the success of the cause.

He was detained at the station only a few days, and then released on a promise to hold himself subject to the orders of the State and testify when called on. But the State did not need his evidence, and soon thereafter I secured him employment in a factory. He is still at work and is now proving himself an exemplary youth.

The father proved a rather elusive individual after the police began searching for him. But at the time of Mrs. Seliger’s arrest he ventured too near the Chicago Avenue Station. It was on the morning of May 12 that a man was noticed in the company of two women. The man remained on the outside at a good distance, but the women entered the court-room of the station and sat there for some time, watching the prisoners brought before the magistrate. The women asked no questions of any one in the room, and it was soon discovered that they had no business there. Officer Loewenstein approached them and asked if they had come to see Mrs. Seliger. One replied that they did not know her.

“But,” interposed the other, with some hesitancy, “is she here?”

“I can’t tell,” remarked the officer. “I was going to make some inquiries, but as you do not know her, it will save me the trouble.”

“Say, young man,” said one of the women, who was getting interested as well as curious, “what is your business here?”

“Well, madam, I am known here as a ‘straw-bailer.’ I go bail for all people who pay me well, and I am all O. K. with the police. If you want anything done for Mrs. Seliger, you must be very careful here. Don’t let the police know your object. As you are Germans, I will not charge you anything for my trouble, if I can do anything for you.”

“Well, we will talk to you later,” they said. “Can we remain here for awhile?”

“Oh, yes; I will take care of you so that no one will disturb you,” replied the officer, in a patronizing tone of voice. “By the way, when I came to the station this morning, I saw you standing at the corner talking to a gentleman with black whiskers, and he is now standing across the street. If he is a friend of yours, I will call him in here.”

“Oh, yes,” responded the women, “he is our friend and a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Seliger. He is a good man.”

“What is his name? I will call him in at once.”

“His name is John Thielen. He lives at No. 509 North Halsted Street and is all right.”

Officer Stift meantime had kept his eye on the individual across the street, with instructions not to arrest him so long as he hovered about the station, but, in the event of his going away any distance, to take him in charge. The man at no time went far from his post; he was too anxious to hear from the women. The moment Officer Loewenstein had secured the information about his identity, he posted across the street, and, hailing the man, said:

“John, I think you have been ‘ransacking’ around here long enough. Come with me; the boys want to see you.”

“Who are the boys?” inquired Thielen.

“Capt. Schaack,” answered the officer.

“I don’t want to see him or have anything to do with him.” Thielen was surprised as well as indignant.

“Well,” said the officer, “he would like to make your acquaintance.”

“You tell him that he don’t know me and I don’t know him; so what the d——d does he want? Good-day, I am going home.”

“You must come in first and give an account of yourself.”

“I am a good man; I am not afraid.”

He went to the station rather reluctantly, still with an air of innocence and bravery. The moment he stepped inside the office, I said to him:

“John, you are an Anarchist. You are one of the rioters. You were at the Haymarket meeting. You knew about the bombs. You are under arrest.”

“I am no Anarchist,” responded John, rather warmly. “I am a carpenter.”

“Yes,” said I, “you are both, and you live at 509 North Halsted Street. I have no time now to talk to you. Whenever you want to see me send word by the turnkey.”

On the second day, John sent word that he wanted to see me. He was taken up into the office, and there he asked what benefit it would be to him if he told all he knew. He was informed that we would expect him to tell only the truth and not lie about any one or shield any one who was guilty of wrong-doing. If he did all this honestly and conscientiously the State would, no doubt, reward him for his information. Thielen assented to the proposition, but he told very little at this interview. He was brought up again the next day, and from the questions put he soon discovered that some one had been telling the truth about him.

“Now I will tell you all I know,” he said, “and let it fall where it belongs. What I say I will swear to. I see every one is trying to get out. First I will tell you what I did myself, and then what the others did.”

He accordingly made a long statement, but as substantially the same facts were brought out in the trial by other witnesses, he was never called on to testify. Since then Thielen has abandoned Anarchy and is a better man.

The statement Thielen made runs as follows, and it will be noticed by reference to the trial proceedings that, had he been a witness, he would have fully corroborated the testimony given by Seliger and his wife. On being shown, at the station, some round lead bombs, he said:

“I saw Louis Lingg have twenty-two pieces like these in his room. They were not all finished. I saw them when they were being cast. They were in halves and placed in Louis Lingg’s trunk. If that trouble had not occurred at McCormick’s factory that Monday, they would not have been finished yet, but after that trouble with the officers he completed them. That is, he loaded them with dynamite, ready to be used. I never knew of any one or heard of anybody who could make these bombs except Lingg. I had two of these gas-pipe bombs, loaded with dynamite. I got them from Lingg, and I threw them away as soon as I got them. There were only a few left of these long ones. There were seventeen pieces loaded at Seliger’s house. Bonfield had better look out for himself, as these bombs are for the most part made for him, and he will get one yet. He was shooting the people during the West Side car strike and at McCormick’s. I promised to give you the round bombs that I had, but, as I said, I threw them away and out of danger. I will tell you, before all these men, that these two iron shells now lying before me at this table I got from Lingg at his house, No. 442 Sedgwick Street, on May 4, 1886. He gave them to me, and I took them along home. They were loaded, and there was a fuse in each of them. This was Tuesday night, May 4, 8 o’clock. The very same night he also gave me those two cigar-boxes here now before me, filled with dynamite. He wanted me to take them and throw them in the alley. He said they were empty, but I saw that they were filled. They were too heavy to be empty. I took them home myself, together with my boy. We buried them under our house. The last time I saw any bombs was at Florus’ place, where a search was made by the police. I would have given up those bombs to you to-night if you had not found them. In these boxes is finished dynamite ready to be used. I know Seliger had charge of selling arms. We paid $7.00 for a revolver and $10.00 for a gun. I saw Lingg and Seliger at Seliger’s house, Tuesday, May 4, at about 8 P.M., and 9:30 P.M. I saw them together at Larrabee Street. There were twenty-two lead bombs that I saw in Lingg’s room. They were made on a Sunday afternoon. Lingg, Seliger and myself made them. They had been cast about two weeks before Tuesday, May 4. I saw in a satchel in Lingg’s room about fifteen pieces of these long iron shells, on Tuesday, May 4. There were also some round lead bombs, and they were all loaded. The time I was in Lingg’s room, May 4, I saw one man take along with him, when he left, three round lead bombs loaded with dynamite, and Lingg gave those bombs to the man himself. I know the man, and I, John Thielen, will get them from that man and give them to you this evening. After what happened at the Haymarket on that Tuesday evening, May 4, you could not hear of any one having bombs in their possession. I should judge that two men more received from Lingg six round bombs loaded with dynamite. In Greif’s Hall, 54 West Lake Street, on the evening of May 3, at the meeting there, Lingg said to the people present that he would furnish the dynamite bombs if any one would throw them. I told him to throw the bombs himself. Then I said to Lingg that it would cost a man his life to throw them. Lingg replied that no man could see any one throw one of them. He said if necessary he would throw some. He also stated that if any one would come to him he would show him how to make bombs with dynamite. I saw Lingg and Seliger together at Thüringer Hall—Neff’s place—58 Clybourn Avenue, on the evening of May 4. Lingg had a satchel. The satchel was placed near a little passageway leading to the ‘gents’ closet.’ It was a gray canvas-covered satchel about two feet long, one foot wide and one and a half feet high. Seliger, Lingg and myself went away together to Clybourn Avenue. We then went up on Larrabee Street, at 9:30 P.M. I left Lingg and Seliger at the corner of Clybourn Avenue and Larrabee Street. The satchel was brought by Lingg to Neff’s Hall that night, and any one there could help himself to bombs. Lingg said to some people: ‘There are bombs in that satchel, and now help yourselves.’ These words were spoken in the saloon of Neff’s place to a crowd of armed men.”

The above confession was given on the 14th of May. On the next day Thielen was brought face to face with Lingg—with what results the next chapter will show. On the 16th of May Thielen supplemented his first statement with additional particulars. He said:

“On Tuesday, May 4, 1886, about 9:30 P.M., myself and old man Lehman were together on the corner of North Avenue and Larrabee Street, near the police station, and afterwards we went back to Neff’s Hall. Three men came into the saloon and said that there had been a terrible explosion on the West Side at the Haymarket meeting and that a great many were killed and wounded; that Fielden had made a speech, and a radical one. The police came, and a shot was fired. Some one in the crowd said: ‘Now, do not spare powder or lead.’ A friend of mine got shot through the cheek. The man works for Mr. Christal, corner of Lake and State Streets, in a basement—a carpenter-shop. That man stated that he was there at the meeting, standing near the speaker, and about fifteen feet away from where the bomb was thrown. The understanding with us when we left Neff’s Hall on that Tuesday night, May 4, was to make a racket that would call out the police. It was a failure because the West Side police did not come out any sooner to interfere with the meeting or the mob. The grudge we had was the score of the police shooting our men at McCormick’s factory. We wanted revenge. The order came from the International armed men or the group. I was at Greif’s Hall, 54 West Lake Street, May 3. I there saw a circular calling for revenge. I was at the meeting Monday night at Zepf’s Hall, and there an order was given for the armed men to go to 54 West Lake Street, in the basement. The pass-word to get into that meeting was ‘Y komme.’ I went there to the meeting. I found George Engel there, and he made a speech. The whole plan was then unfolded by Engel. He said that there would be a meeting held on Tuesday night, May 4, at the Haymarket, and that the North Siders should stay on the North Side, and there they should wait until it had started—meaning the riot on the West Side. Engel said that some of those who had arms should come to the meeting, and those who had no arms should stay away from the meeting at the Haymarket. At the meeting in the basement a man by the name of Waller was chairman. George Engel did the speaking. There were about fifty men present belonging to the armed sections. Engel explained that the plan would have to be worked in this way: As soon as they had commenced on the West Side, then they should commence on the South Side and the North Side. Engel stated that the signal would be a fire which would be set, and seen at Wicker Park, and by the noise of the shooting. That would be the signal for commencing, and they should all attack the police stations; should throw dynamite bombs into the stations, to either kill or keep the officers in the stations, and should shoot the horses on the patrol wagons to prevent the police from helping one another. Engel is the man who proposed this plan. Engel is the only man that gave us any orders. And under the orders Engel gave us that night, May 3, in that basement, 54 West Lake Street, we started out May 4 on the North Side to do harm—that is, to shoot and kill anything that opposed us. The word ‘Ruhe’ in the ‘Briefkasten’ was adopted at our meeting May 3. It was to be used as a signal word. If it should appear the next day in the Arbeiter-Zeitung, then every man was to be ready with his arms or guns; that then the riot would commence, and they should watch for the signal. ‘Right and fest’ were passwords for the armed men should there be any fighting at McCormick’s. With the signal they should all come out with their bombs and arms, no matter whether it happened in the day or in the night. They should attack the armed officers of the law and the State militia. All of us armed men thought at one time that the police would not fight us, because they were all married men, and if they should fight us they would not do it so very hard. The plan was to call out a meeting first and have no speakers there. The police would then come and drive us away. They then should fire on the police. There were a lot of armed people at the meeting, I know. But the police did not interfere, so they got speakers at the meeting. Finally the police came out, and the mob did what they had agreed to do. Afterwards fault was found, and they said the North Siders were cowards. When Spies and others were arrested, the armed men all said that, should anything happen to those men, there would be a riot. In reference to the report about the shooting of six of our men at McCormick’s factory, I will say that what I saw and read in that circular calling for revenge made me mad at the officers. At that meeting Engel called on us to take revenge on the police officers, because they had killed six of our men. There were about seventy-five of us, so far as I know, on the North Side, to do the work on Tuesday night, May 4, and Lingg was mad because there were no more men coming after bombs. At Neff’s Hall Tuesday night, May 4, we all looked to Lingg as a leader of the North Siders. I know of no one else who could make bombs. Some one found fault with Lingg at Neff’s Hall on Tuesday night because he came so late with his bombs. Then Lingg asked why they had not come after the bombs. They all knew, he said, where he lived. Lingg was very angry. Schablinsky lives near me, and he got bombs from him. There were about nineteen men in the vicinity of the Chicago Avenue Station on the night of May 4, to attack the station when the police should come out on the wagons to answer a call from the West Side Haymarket. The men, seeing all this, lost their courage because the police, they said, passed them so quick, and then they said to one another, ‘Why should we attack and lose our own lives for the sake of others?’ When the wagon was gone, they saw lots of officers coming on foot to the station. Then the men went away. The North Siders, the armed men, were to meet in Neff’s Hall May 4, in the afternoon. I was at Thalia Hall, Northwest Side, where the Lehr und Wehr Verein met, on Wednesday, May 5, in the forenoon. I saw Fischer, and he said Spies and others had been arrested. I always knew that Fischer was one of the leaders in this affair—the riot. Fischer said the riot was a failure. It was botched, and nothing could be done any more. On Tuesday afternoon there was a tall young fellow at Lingg’s room about six o’clock. He had a smooth face and was about six feet tall. The tall man and Lingg were working at the bombs and dynamite. The tall man, I think, worked at Brunswick & Balke’s factory.”

The foregoing was read to Thielen and its correctness acknowledged before Mr. Furthmann, the officers and myself, and his signature is affixed to the margin of each sheet of the paper on which it is written. Thielen’s stepson, William Schubert, confirmed the statement of his father with reference to the dynamite bombs and the cigar-boxes filled with dynamite, and added:

“I went under the house and dug a hole in the ground, and father and myself put those things in the hole and then covered them up.”

ABOUT the time of Thielen’s arrest Officers Hoffman and Schuettler ran across FRANZ LORENZ on North Avenue near Sedgwick Street, in the very stronghold of Anarchy, and as the man seemed to be suffering from an over-dose of Anarchy and liquor, they took him to the station. This was on the 10th of May. He was a German, 48 years of age, and lived with a man named Jaeger, at No. 31 Burling Street. He did not seem to be known much in Socialist circles, and no one seemed specially interested in him. He was locked up at the Larrabee Street Station, and for four days he was as stupid as an owl. He would eat and drink very little, but managed to sleep every day. On the sixth day he was taken to the Chicago Avenue Station and remained there two days longer before he recovered his normal condition. When brought into the office, he told me that he had been drinking very hard, and, being asked for the reason, he said that he had attended many Anarchist meetings, had heard all the speeches and had learned that soon they would all have plenty of money. Whenever such assurances were given, it always, he said, made him feel so good that he would go and get one more drink. Between speeches and drinks, he said, he had come near dying. He assured me that if he was released he would go right to work and give Anarchy and all meetings a wide berth. On being questioned as to his acquaintances, he said he knew “all the boys”—the leading Anarchists—and had admired them warmly.

“I heard Lingg speak,” said he, “and he is a good one. I tell you he is a radical.”

“I suppose,” said I, “you took two drinks on his speech?”

“Yes, I took more than that,” replied Lorenz. “The last time I heard Lingg speak in Zepf’s Hall, I went and got drunk. On May 4, I heard all the boys speak on the wagon at the Haymarket, but I did not stay there until it was over. I went into a saloon a block away from there and got drunk in no time, and when I woke up the next morning I was in bed in one of the cheap lodging-houses.”

Not knowing anything definite, he was released by the State’s Attorney, and he has not since been heard from. He has probably retired to some other city to renew his drunks at Anarchist headquarters on the free beer usually provided.

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Chapter XIV

Completing the Case—Looking for Lingg—The Bomb-maker’s Birth—Was he of Royal Blood?—A Romantic Family History—Lingg and his Mother—Captured Correspondence—A Desperate and Dangerous Character—Lingg Disappears—A Faint Trail Found—Looking for Express Wagon 1999—The Number that Cost the Fugitive his Life—A Desperado at Bay—Schuettler’s Death Grapple—Lingg in the Shackles—His Statement at the Station—The Transfer to the Jail—Lingg’s Love for Children—The Identity of his Sweetheart—An Interview with Hubner—His Confession—The Meeting at Neff’s Place

WITH the information already obtained we had managed to secure a pretty clear insight into the diabolical plots of the “revolutionary groups.” It was apparent that Chicago had been regarded by Anarchists everywhere as the head center of Socialism in America, and that it had been decided that here should be the first test of strength in the establishment of the new social order. Any reasoning, sentient being ought to have seen the utter folly of such an undertaking in the very midst of millions of liberty-loving, law-abiding citizens, but these Anarchists, hypnotized as they were by the plausible sophisms and the inflammatory writings of unscrupulous men bent on notoriety, could view it in no other light than as a grand stride towards their goal. As boys are led astray by yellow-covered literature, these poor fools were crazed by Anarchistic vaporings. Day or night, sleeping or waking, the beauties of the new social order to be inaugurated by the revolution were continually before their minds.

It was clear that such people were capable of desperate deeds, and that it was not only necessary to bring to justice the instigators of the massacre, but to show their deluded followers the inevitable result of carrying out ideas repugnant to our free institutions and inconsistent with common sense and right.

With so many facts before us, we redoubled our efforts to capture every dangerous Anarchist leader in the city, and the next one to fall into the toils was no less a personage than the bomb-maker, Louis Lingg.

This notorious Anarchist came to Chicago when about twenty-one years of age. He had learned the carpenter’s trade in Germany, and when not engaged in spreading Anarchy’s doctrines, he pursued that calling to liquidate his board bills and personal expenses. He was a tall, lithe, well-built, handsome fellow, and, while not of a nervous disposition, his nature was so active and aggressive that he never appeared at rest. Sleeping or waking, Anarchy and the most effective methods of establishing it were uppermost in his thoughts. By reason of his very restlessness it was not difficult to trace him in Socialistic circles when on his tours of agitation, and it was noticeable, too, that he never remained at any one point for any regular length of time. His make-up was a queer combination of nerve, energy and push. His mind seemed always weighted with some great burden. Perhaps there was a reason for this not alone in his radical beliefs, but in his blood and birth.

Louis Lingg was born in Schwetzingen, Germany, on the 9th day of September, 1864, and, while his childhood was spent pleasantly enough, a cloud gradually gathered which overshadowed his life and embittered him against society. His mother, at the age of eighteen or twenty, had worked as a servant, and, possessing a very handsome face, a shapely figure and attractive manners, had caught the eye of a Hessian soldier in the dragoons. This man was young, dashing and handsome, and mutual admiration soon ripened into undue intimacy. One day the soldier left town on short notice—whether because of military orders or through his own inclination is not known. It is certain, however, that she never heard of him from that day, and that a son was born to her out of wedlock. That son was Louis Lingg. The name of that dragoon has never been made public, but it is believed with reason that Lingg was born of royal blood.

Several years after her escapade the mother wedded a lumber-worker named Link. Louis was then four years old. When young Lingg had arrived at the age of twelve, his foster-father, while engaged in his occupation of floating logs down the river Main, contracted heart disease, through over-exposure, and died. The widow was left in poor circumstances, and she was obliged to do washing and ironing in order to support herself and family, a daughter named Elise having been born since her marriage.

Louis, in the course of years, grew strong, robust and muscular. He had received a fair education, and, desiring to relieve his mother’s burdens as much as possible, he learned the carpenter’s trade under the tutelage of a man named Louis Wuermell in Mannheim. He remained there until May 13, 1879, and then, quitting his apprenticeship, proceeded to Kehl, on the Rhine. There he found employment with a man named Schmidt until the fall of 1882. He next went to Freiburg, in the Grand Duchy of Baden, where he worked for several contractors. At this place he began to change his employment frequently, and his mother, learning of it, wrote several letters, in which she advised him against such a course and admonished him to become a good man, to save his money and keep out of bad company, so that he might become useful to himself and to society and make her proud of him. But the son did not heed this motherly advice. He fell in with free-thinkers who were set against religion in particular and against society in general, and soon began reading and absorbing Socialistic literature. It was not long before he became an avowed Socialist, attending Socialistic meetings and eagerly listening to all the speeches.

Finally young Lingg grew weary of Baden and wandered to the republic of Switzerland. Here he spent the fall of 1883 at Luzerne, working at his trade with a man named Rickley, but his roving nature soon brought him to Zurich.

It was there that he met the famous Anarchist Reinsdorf, and for this man he speedily formed a warm attachment. While in Zurich Lingg also affiliated with a German Socialistic society called “Eintracht,” and threw his whole soul into the cause. After a time he turned up at Aarau, but here he was unable to find employment and had to write home for assistance. The mother loved her son dearly, despite his wanderings, and he did not appeal to her in vain. She wrote him enclosing a small sum of money to help him bridge over his idleness, and at the same time informed him that she had again married (August 6, 1884), her second husband’s name being Christian Gaddum. This man had been a neighbor of the family at Mannheim for years. In writing to her son, Mrs. Link indicated that the marriage was not prompted by love or admiration, but came about on account of her feeble health and her desire to secure support for herself and her daughter. Louis’ mother had frequently expressed a wish that he visit home, but, as the boy had now reached the age for military service under the German Government, he concluded to remain away, and in casting about for a permanent location he decided to emigrate to America. He presented the matter to his mother. At first she opposed it, but finally gave her consent. With what money he secured from his mother and from his friends, he proceeded to Havre, France, in June, 1885, and boarded a steamer for the United States.

After the wayward boy had left home, he and his mother corresponded regularly. She always expressed deep solicitude for his welfare, and when he was in financial distress she would write him: “Dear Louis, I will share with you as long as I have a bite in the house.” All her letters breathed encouragement; she sent money frequently, although at times in need herself, and concluded invariably by giving good counsel and urging Louis to write her soon and often. When Lingg had arrived in the United States the fond mother wrote him that she would soon be able to send him money enough to come home on a visit.

That Lingg had great love and affection for his mother is evidenced by the fact that he had carefully preserved all her letters from the time of his leaving home until he died a suicide’s death. From these letters it appears also that Lingg had several lady admirers at home.

There were many expressions, such as “kindest regards” or “heartiest respects,” conveyed to him by his mother on behalf of this or that lady friend. Another fact made apparent by the letters was that there was some great burden on his mind. It would seem that he had plied his mother with many questions respecting his birth. That seemed a dark spot in his life. He wanted a solution as well as satisfaction. This worried the mother, but she always managed to give him some consolation, saying she “would guard against everything” and have “all things set right.” In one of her letters occurs the following:

As regards your birth, it grieves me that you mention it. While you did not know it before, I will now say that you were born in Schwetzingen on the 9th day of September, 1864, at your grandfather’s house, and baptized. Where your father is I don’t know. My father did not want me to marry him because he did not desire me to follow him into Hessia, and as he had no real estate he could not marry me in Schwetzingen according to our laws. He left and went, I do not know where. If you want a certificate of birth you can get it at Schwetzingen any time. If you make a proper presentation everything will be all right, but don’t hold on six months.

The original of the above, which is in German and which was found in Lingg’s trunk, had no signature. Another letter regarding his paternity reads as follows, showing that Lingg’s mind had been sorely distressed over the matter:

MANNHEIM, June 29, 1884.

Dear Louis:—You must have waited a long time for an answer. John said to Elise that I had not yet replied to your last letter. The officials of the court you cannot push. For my part I would have been better pleased if they had hurried up, because it would have saved you a great deal of time. But now I am glad that it has finally been accomplished. After a great deal of toil, I put myself out to go to Schwetzingen and see about the certificate of your birth. I know you will be glad and satisfied to learn that you carry the name of Lingg. This is better than to have children with two different names. He had you entered as a legitimate child before we got married. I think this was the best course, so that you will not worry and reproach me. Such a certificate of birth is no disgrace, and you can show it. I felt offended that you took no notice of the “confirmation.” Elise had everything nice. Her only wish was to receive some small token from Louis, which would have pleased her more than anything else. When she came from church, the first thing she asked for was as to a letter or card from you, but we had to be contented with the thought that perhaps you did not think of us. Now it is all past.... I was very much troubled that it has taken so long [to procure certificate], but I could not help it. I have kept my promise, and you cannot reproach me. Everything is all right, and we are all well and working. I hope to hear the same from you. It would not be so bad if you wrote oftener. I have had to do a great many things for you the last eighteen years, but with a mother you can do as you please—neglect her and never answer her letters.

The certificate sent him reads as follows:

CERTIFICATE OF BIRTH.

No. 9,681.

Ludwig Link, legitimate son of Philipp Friedrich Link and of Regina Von Hoefler, was born at Schwetzingen, on the ninth (9th) day of September, 1864. This is certified according to the records of the Evangelical Congregation of Schwetzingen.

SCHWETZINGEN, May 24, 1884.

[SEAL.]

County Court: CLURICHT.

To the letter of Mrs. Link, given above, no signature appears, but that is not strange. What seems more singular is that, whenever her letters were signed, they closed with simply “Your Mother.” Another thing appears from the above, and that is that at home Louis’ name was Link. Other documents, some of them legal, also found in his trunk, show that his name was formerly written Link. His name must have been changed shortly before leaving Europe or just after reaching the United States.

It would seem that, with such a certificate, Lingg would have been measurably happy, but the fact of his illegitimacy, despite court records, rankled in his blood. The thought of it haunted him continually, and no doubt it helped to make him in religion a free-thinker, in theory a free-lover, and in practice an implacable enemy of existing society. His mother’s letters showed that she wished him to be a good man, and it was no fault of her early training that he subsequently became an Anarchist. She still lives at the old place, and when Lieut. Baus, of the Chicago police force, was on a visit to Mannheim, some time ago, he called on her and found her very pleasant and affable in her manner, with a strong, robust constitution, and still a good-looking woman.

No sooner had Lingg reached Chicago than he looked up the haunts of Socialists and Anarchists. He made their acquaintance, learned the strength of the order in the city as well as in the United States, and was highly gratified. At that time the organization was not only strong in numbers, but it fairly “smelt to heaven” in its rankness of doctrine.

Lingg was not required to look around very hard for the haunts of Anarchy, for a blind man could plainly see, feel and smell the disease in the air. Lingg arrived here only eight or nine months before the eventful 4th of May, but in that short time he succeeded in making himself the most popular man in Anarchist circles. No one had created such a furore since 1872, when Socialism had its inception in the city.

The first organization to which Lingg attached himself was the International Carpenters’ Union No. 1. Every member of this society was a rabid Anarchist. All of them had supplied themselves with arms, and a majority of them drilled in military tactics. Lingg had not been connected with the organization long before he became a recognized leader and made speeches that enthused them all. While young in years, they recognized in him a worthy leader, and the fact that he had sat at the very feet of Reinsdorf as a pupil elevated him in their estimation. This distinction, added to his personal magnetism, made him the subject for praise and comment, which pleased his vanity and spurred his ambition.

Men longer in the service and more familiar with the local and general phases of Anarchy at times reluctantly yielded to him where points of policy were at stake. No committee was regarded as complete without him, and this brought him in contact with August Spies and Albert Parsons. He was often at the office of the Arbeiter-Zeitung, which was the headquarters of the governing body, with reports and suggestions, and by his admirable tact soon won their esteem and good graces. He there also made the acquaintance of Fielden, Fischer, Schnaubelt, Rau, Neebe, Schwab, and of some of the more noted women in the Anarchist movement. He was frequently complimented for his work and became quite a favorite with the ladies.

When Lingg first became actively identified with the party of assassination and annihilation here, he was cautious and secretive. He knew that secrecy in the old country was not only essential to success, but absolutely requisite for self-preservation. He supposed that the same sort of tactics prevailed here, but when he saw how bold, aggressive and open were the utterances of the Anarchists in Chicago and elsewhere, he came to believe that the government and the municipal administration existed simply through their sufferance. At first, whenever Lingg was doubtful on any point, he would seek knowledge and inspiration from Spies, and it was through Spies that he gained his information of the movement in the United States. They became firm friends, and Lingg implicitly believed everything Spies told him, and looked, as he informed the police officers, upon every line published in the Arbeiter-Zeitung as absolutely true and correct. While not able to read English, he regarded all papers printed in that language, as well as in the German, not of the Socialistic faith, as published for the benefit of capitalists and millionaires. They were all, in his estimation, stupendous frauds, and existed simply because they printed such lies as pleased the rich and those in power. Being a man of sincere convictions and earnest zeal, Lingg won the confidence of his confrères and always knew just what was going to be done and how it was to be accomplished. He was a faithful ally and was invariably counted upon to take a leading part in all the movements of the reds. How he was regarded by his fellows in this respect is shown in the fact that to him was intrusted the task of organizing the people of the Southwest Side and directing their plans against the McCormick factory.

His communications, which I have given in a prior chapter, to the Bohemians and others in that locality, show that he was bent on riot and destruction, and in that mad and frenzied movement he had the hearty coöperation of the colleagues who had with him concocted it at the office of the Arbeiter-Zeitung. They alone knew of it, and worked out the details at a meeting held near the factory on the 3d of May. Lingg, being braver and more daring than the other leaders, was the chosen instrument to inspire the men to an attack upon the works, and he subsequently claimed that he had been clubbed by the police during the affray.

During the turbulent and momentous days preceding May 4, Lingg’s comrades saddled upon him a great responsibility, but he never flinched. On the contrary, he proved the mettle of his make-up, not only volunteering to carry out certain ends he himself outlined, but cheerfully assuming every task imposed upon him and always willing to take all responsibility for the consequences. He was found on the North Side actively engaged in calling Anarchists to arms, on the Southwest Side endeavoring to form a compact body of fighters in view of the near approach of May 1; he was busy at Seliger’s house constructing bombs, and at meetings giving instructions how to make infernal machines. His work was never finished, and never neglected. At one time he taught his followers how to handle the bombs so that they would not explode in their hands, and showed the time and distance for throwing the missiles with deadly effect; at another he drilled those who were to do the throwing, instructing them how to surround themselves with friends so that detection by an enemy would be impossible.

All these things kept him busy, but his whole soul was in the work. He was not alone a bomb-maker; he also constituted himself an agent to sell arms. He sold a great many large revolvers and rifles. This is shown by a note found in his trunk, addressed to Abraham Hermann. It reads as follows:

Friend:—I sold three revolvers during the last two days, and I will sell three more to-day (Wednesday). I sell them from $6.00 to $7.80 apiece.

Respectfully and best regards, L. LINGG.

At this time Hermann was the general agent in this city for buying and selling arms to the Anarchists. Engel had been an agent at one time, but the men claimed that he had fleeced them, and he was dropped.

Lingg thus proved himself a very useful man to the order. He could make an effective speech; he was a good organizer; he could make bombs with dynamite whose power had been enhanced manifold through his skill; he would carry hand-bills, and he would do anything to help along the cause. In truth, he was the shiftiest as well as the most dangerous Anarchist in all Chicago.

Having been a pupil of Reinsdorf, Lingg was an opponent of all peaceable agitation. He believed in organizing armed forces and conquering everything by main force. He had no love at all for those who talked peaceable agitation; he called them fools and cranks. Of this class were the old-time Socialists, and he looked upon them with haughty disdain. He found better material to work on for helping him in the revolution he proposed, and, although he molded many an Anarchist out of the softer clay of humanity, still he was not satisfied, but complained continually that they did not move fast enough, did not take hold with celerity and failed to develop such heroic qualities as he wished to see. The restless spirit within him, his implacable hatred of society, tinged with the bitterness of his doubtful birth, and his strong impulses manifested themselves in all his acts and utterances. An illustration of these traits is the impatience he exhibited over the failure of trusted men to come early to the house of Seliger to secure bombs on the evening of May 4, and his departure with the bombs to Neff’s Hall to have them speedily distributed. Another example is found in the bitter reproaches he heaped on those who had failed to carry out their part after the inauguration of the Haymarket riot. His hopes, his ambitions, had been set on the successful consummation of that plot. It was to have overthrown all government and all law, which he declared were good enough for old women to prevent them from quarreling, but needless for men of intelligence and independence.

For four weeks prior to the 4th of May he was out of work, but he was by no means idle. He worked early and late attending meetings and making bombs, so that, the moment the signal for the general revolution was given, every member of the armed sections might be supplied with the destructive agent. He wanted the whole city blown up, every capitalist wiped off the face of the earth; and he and his trusted comrades, Sunday after Sunday, in anticipation of the uprising, practiced in the suburbs with rifles and 44-caliber revolvers. Lingg became the most expert of them all and was looked upon by his associates as a crack shot.

Lingg’s money and time were freely given to the purchase of arms and to the manufacture of dynamite bombs. His room at Seliger’s became a veritable arsenal, and, the more deadly “stuff” he brought into the house, the more pleased he became, and the more bitter grew the enmity of Mrs. Seliger toward him. How careful and elaborate were his preparations for the coming day is not only shown by the deadly implements found in his room, but is evidenced in the statements of his trusted lieutenants. These statements—made to me by men anxious to save themselves, prostrate suppliants for mercy, whose every material revelation was corroborative of the others, although given independently and under different circumstances and without knowledge of what others had said—unmistakably pointed to a most gigantic conspiracy. Read any of these statements, and no doubt can exist that, had it not been for the hand of Providence on the night of May 4, thousands of people would have been killed and vast districts of the city laid waste. Lingg expected it as certainly as he believed in his own existence at the time, and his intimate comrades bent all their energy in the direction of carrying out the villainous plot.

But “the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley,” and the Haymarket riot proved a most bitter disappointment. Lingg was fairly beside himself with chagrin and mortification. The one consuming desire of his life had utterly and signally failed of realization. He clearly foresaw dire trouble in consequence of the attempt, and his mind was bewildered with perplexities as to his future movements. On the night of May 4, about 11:30 o’clock, when the full truth of the failure of the riot had flashed upon him, he stood in front of No. 58 Clybourn Avenue, not knowing exactly whither to turn for refuge from possible arrest, and, while in this dilemma, he broached the subject to Seliger, finally asking to be permitted to remain at the house over night until next morning, when he promised he would move away. He was without a cent in his pocket, having squandered all his money in the manufacture of bombs, confident of plenty when he and his fellows had secured control of the city. Seliger, knowing his condition, finally consented.

The next morning came, but Lingg manifested no disposition to carry out his promise.

“I would move from here now,” said he, very adroitly, “but if I do so it would create suspicion.”

Seliger saw the force of the argument, and, being implicated also in the manufacture of bombs, shrewdly concluded to let him remain until matters quieted down. Lingg accordingly remained until the 7th of May. On this date officers began to appear in the vicinity, looking into the haunts and resorts of Anarchists. This startled Lingg, and, lest they might pounce down upon his room, he decided to speedily vacate the premises. He did move, but with such haste that he left his implements of destruction and nearly all his personal effects behind him. When the house was finally searched the “bird had flown.”

I sent out eight good detectives, and kept them working night and day looking for the bomb-maker, but no one could furnish a clue. It was learned that Lingg had a sweetheart, and her movements were closely watched. The houses of his known friends were also watched, and all his acquaintances shadowed. Anarchists who had hopes of saving their own necks if he could be found were pressed into the service, and decoy letters were sent out. Money was even held out as an inducement to divulge his hiding-place, but all to no purpose.

These expedients were kept up until the 13th of May, when I sent for Mrs. Seliger to ascertain where Lingg had last been employed and secure the addresses of all his friends. Nearly all the places she mentioned had been visited, but she spoke of one place that seemed to me to hold out some promise of a successful result. Mrs. Seliger stated that there was a place near the river, where there was a bridge that she had heard spoken of, and that Lingg had said to her husband that he would call on a friend of his near that place, on Canal Street. This place I at once recognized as being only a few blocks from the shop where Lingg had worked. Mrs. Seliger further stated that her husband had told her that this shop was only a few blocks from a Catholic church. All this I regarded as a good clue, and Officers Loewenstein and Schuettler were promptly detailed to follow it up—first going, however, to a planing-mill on Twelfth and South Clark Streets to ascertain if Lingg had ever worked there.

The officers carried out these instructions, and a few hours later they returned to the office, their faces wreathed in smiles. They informed me that they had secured a clue, that only a few days before Lingg had sent there for his tool chest, and that they had learned of a man who had noticed the number of the express wagon that had carted it away. But this man, they said, they would be unable to see until the next day.

Bright and early the next morning the officers started out with new instructions and visited the house of the person who had so singularly taken note of the express number. They found him, and he gave them all the information he possessed. About eleven o’clock the officers found the residence of the expressman, whose name was Charles Keperson and whose wagon was numbered 1,999. He lived at No. 1095 Robey Street. The officers rapped on the door, and a little girl about ten years of age answered. On being asked after her father she informed them that he was not at home. They inquired if her father had not brought in a trunk. She replied that her father had brought no trunk into their house, but he had hauled a tool chest from down town, which he had taken to a house on an adjoining street. She pointed out a little cottage at No. 80 Ambrose Street, and on being asked if she had seen her father take it there she answered:

“Oh, yes, it was a gray-colored box, and I heard my father say it belonged to Louis Lingg.”

The officers went over to the cottage and learned that a family named Klein lived there. Schuettler knocked on the door, and Mrs. Klein responded. He asked if Louis was at home. She replied that he was not and that he had gone out with some gentlemen about nine o’clock. She inquired what he desired to see Louis for, and Schuettler told her that he owed Louis $3 and had come to pay him. He further informed her that they were good friends, both carpenters, and belonged to the same union. She inquired after his name, and Schuettler responded that it was “Franz Lorenz.” Lorenz was a well known Anarchist, and it was thought the name would prove effective in winning the woman’s confidence. She said that her father lived only a short distance from the house, and she would step over and ask him if he knew where Louis had gone. This conversation had taken place in a rear room of the house. The woman excused herself, and ostensibly started for the house of her father. She passed into the front room and slammed the outer door. Loewenstein stepped out of the back room to see if she had really gone, but he saw no Mrs. Klein. At the same time he noticed Lingg’s chest standing on the rear porch, covered with a piece of carpet. Loewenstein returned, and he had hardly joined Schuettler when Mrs. Klein stepped in. She said she had seen her father, but that he did not know where Louis had gone. The officers were suspicious, of course, but they said nothing, simply withdrawing with the assurance that they would call again and see Lingg some other time.

After leaving, the officers walked for two blocks and talked over the mysterious actions of Mrs. Klein. They concluded to go back and search the house. They secured entrance from the rear, and, while Loewenstein guarded the front door, Schuettler entered the rear room. There he found a man smoothly shaven. Lingg had been described as having chin whiskers. Schuettler stepped up to the man, however, and asked his name. In an instant Lingg—for it was none other—whipped out a 44-caliber revolver, which he had had concealed in front inside his trousers, and, with the glare of a tiger held at bay, he turned on the officer. Schuettler saw the movement, and, quick as a flash, sprang on Lingg and seized the weapon. They clinched, and while the one was struggling to save himself and secure his prisoner, the other was bent upon killing the officer and effecting his own escape. Both were strong, muscular and active, and the cottage shook from foundation to rafters as the bodies of the contestants swayed in the equal contest. Lingg quivered with rage and aroused himself to his utmost to vanquish the foe. He realized that the result meant life or death. At one moment his revolver was pressed close to the officer’s breast, and with a superhuman effort the Anarchist tried to send a bullet on its fatal mission. But Schuettler had a firm grasp of the cylinder and wrenched the weapon aside. In another second, while the mastery was still undecided, Lingg, by a quick movement of his hand, brought the revolver square into the officer’s face. At that moment, however, Schuettler managed to get Lingg’s thumb between his teeth. The Anarchist made a sudden dash to release his thumb and succeeded in breaking loose.

All this took place in less time than it takes to tell it. The moment Lingg was foot-loose, Schuettler found time to shout for his companion, who had stood on the outside in front of the house, all unconscious of the short but desperate struggle within. Loewenstein did not stop a moment to determine what was wanted, but sprang into the room. He entered just at the moment when Schuettler had bounded after Lingg on his release and found him holding Lingg tightly by the throat with one hand and the revolver with the other. Loewenstein saw the situation at a glance, and, raising his loaded cane, brought it down on the Anarchist’s head. This stunned Lingg, and he was overpowered. The revolver was wrenched from his hand and placed on a table, and the officers adjusted the handcuffs. These had no sooner been placed in position than Lingg made a sudden dash for his revolver. But the detectives were too quick for him.

Lingg’s teeth gnashed with rage, and his eyes fairly bulged from their sockets with savage scorn. The arch-Anarchist looked the picture of desperation. He had been vanquished, however, and he saw that further resistance was useless.

Mrs. Klein had meanwhile been an excited spectator, but before she could collect her thoughts and decide what course to take under the circumstances, Lingg was in the power of the law. Seeing this, she hurried out. It was not long before the whole neighborhood heard of what had happened, and, as the officers started to take their prisoner to the Hinman Street Station, a true-hearted Irish-American came up, accosted them and said:

“My dear boys, your lives are in danger here. Nearly every one who lives about here is an Anarchist. Wait for a minute, and I will give you protection.”

He disappeared, but meanwhile the street had become crowded with an excited populace. He soon returned with a double-barreled shot-gun, ready for action in case of emergency. No sooner had he placed himself at the disposal of the officers than a loyal Bohemian-American came running across the street, and said:

“Officers, I will also protect you against this mob.”

He had in his hand a large navy revolver, and he showed that he was ready to assist the officers, even at the cost of his own life.

Schuettler and Loewenstein, under this volunteer escort, marched Lingg to the Hinman Street Station, reaching there about twelve o’clock. Sergeant Enwright was in charge of the station that day, and, lest any attempt at rescue might be made, he called in all his officers and gave them instructions as to what should be done to protect the station. He also ordered out the patrol wagon, and detailed five officers to accompany Schuettler and Loewenstein to the Klein residence to investigate the premises. They made a thorough search, but could discover nothing except a lot of cartridges. They also investigated the houses at Nos. 64, 66, 68 and 70 on the same street, all occupied by Anarchists, but they found nothing. The presence of the police, however, speedily cleared the street, and all the low-browed, shaggy-haired followers of the red flag hunted their holes. Schuettler and Loewenstein then sent for the Chicago Avenue patrol wagon and transferred Lingg to new quarters at that station. On the way Lingg continually ground his teeth, and, looking savagely at Schuettler and turning slightly towards Loewenstein, hissed out:

“If I had only got half a chance at that fellow, he would be a dead man now.”

The officers of the Hinman Street Station did not relax their vigilance over Ambrose Street, and one day some molds made of clay were found in the alley in the rear of the Klein residence, proving that Lingg had not abandoned hope, but was getting ready to prepare a new supply of bombs for a future attack.

When Lingg had been ushered into the office of the East Chicago Avenue Station, the shackles were removed from his wrists, and he was given a chair. He became quiet in his new surroundings, and grudgingly answered a few simple questions. His thumb giving him considerable pain, some liniment was procured from a neighboring drug store, and the wound dressed. He was then assigned to an apartment below, and left to his own thoughts.

In the afternoon he was brought up to the office.

“What is your name?” I asked him.

“Lingg,” curtly replied the prisoner.

“Ah, yes; but how do you spell it?”

“L-i-n-gg,” came the spelling.

“Yes; but give us your full name.”

“It is Louis or Ludwig Lingg. I am twenty-one years and eight months old.”

He was asked a great many questions. Some he refused to answer, and others he answered promptly and with pleasure, especially when they touched on killing capitalists and capitalistic editors, as he called them. He had no use, he said, for these people, and thought that if they could be taken away suddenly the world would be satisfied and happy. He remarked that he did not blame the police very much, because they were workingmen themselves, but there was one officer, he said, that he perfectly despised. It was John Bonfield. If he could have blown him to atoms, he thought, he might become reconciled to a great many things as they then existed. He finally gave to me and to Assistant State’s Attorney Furthmann, in the presence of Officers Stift, Rehm, Loewenstein, Schuettler and Hoffman, a brief account of himself and his movements, but he said that he would rather die than give information against any one. He did not deny what others had stated about him, but further he would not go. He was informed by Mr. Furthmann how strict the law was against conspiracies, but the only answer he vouchsafed was that the laws would not remain in force much longer; that the working people would make laws to suit themselves, and they would not allow any higher power to dictate to them. For his own part, he could work and was willing to work, he said, but he wanted his share of the profits. He thought the police had made fools of themselves in the movement the Anarchists had inaugurated. If they had only known enough, he said, to have held back, the capitalists would have been forced to submit; but now the police had spoiled their own chances for gain for years to come. They would be sorry for it, he added. If the Anarchists had won in Chicago, he further stated, all the other large cities would have fallen into line, and wretchedness and poverty would have been banished forever.

After Lingg had been taken away from the Ambrose Street house, Gustav and Kate Klein became anxious about their friend. They traced him to the Chicago Avenue Station and called there later in the day, after his arrest. When they reached the office I questioned them, although they were not under arrest, and they answered without hesitancy. They stated that Lingg had come to their house on the 7th of May, and had remained indoors nearly all the time up to his arrest that day—May 14. He had only been out twice to secure books from some neighbors, and he had felt measurably safe in the locality. This section, it was found, as already stated, was a hotbed of Anarchy, and as the neighbors knew the man, they were anxious to protect him. It had even been whispered in the locality that he was the one who had thrown the bomb at the Haymarket, but, knowing that he was a man not to be trifled with, and out of sympathy for the cause, none would betray him. He could not have selected a better place for concealment. Mr. Klein had known him for some time and had noticed a great change in him since the Haymarket bloodshed.

“He was always cheerful,” he said, “up to that time, but since then he acted very strangely. He would not converse with any one, but always sought to be alone. Whenever any one came near the house he was uneasy.”

“I noticed that too,” interposed Mrs. Klein. “He always used to fool and play with me before the Haymarket event, and was good company, but since then he was a changed man altogether.”

Mrs. Klein described the scene of Lingg’s arrest, and told how at first she had regarded it simply as fun between two friends, and how frightened she had become when she discovered that it was a serious affair. She also described the terrible look which came over Lingg’s face when he found himself powerless to fire the revolver.

I subsequently thought it best to bring Lingg face to face with one of his former comrades, who had furnished information about him, and this was accordingly done. The moment he was brought into the presence of the informer his face assumed a terrible scowl, but he remained obstinately silent.

One day Lingg was again brought into the office, and I questioned him as to the real strength of the Anarchists in the city and country.

He smiled and said:

“Don’t you know that yet? This I cannot answer, but I will tell you that you only know the noisy fellows. The real Anarchists in this city or country you do not know yet, because they are not ready to take hold, but you will be taken by surprise unless you die soon. I only hope that I will live long enough to see this hidden power show its strength.”

During the time Lingg remained at the station his hand was regularly attended to, he was treated very kindly, had plenty to eat, and was made as comfortable as possible. All these attentions somewhat mollified his bitterness against us.

Some time after the other interviews, I visited him and asked him if he entertained any hostility towards the police. He replied that during the McCormick factory riot he had been clubbed by an officer, but he did not care so much for that. He could forget it all, but he did not like Bonfield. If it had not been for Bonfield, he said, the street-car men, in their strike in the summer of 1885, would have had things all their own way, and that would have changed everything all over the city in a business way.

“If I could only kill Bonfield,” he vehemently declared, “I would be ready to die within five minutes afterwards.”

Lingg was a singular Anarchist. In every act and word he showed no care for himself, but he always expressed sympathy for men who had families and who were in trouble. He showed that he was a man with a will, and that if he set his mind to the accomplishment of an end he would bend all his energies to attain it.

There was another peculiarity about Lingg which distinguished him from the rest of his associates. Although he drank beer, he never drank to excess, and he frowned upon the use of bad or indecent language. He was an admirer of the fair sex, and they reciprocated his admiration, his manly form, handsome face and pleasing manners captivating all.

On the 27th of May, Lingg and Engel were taken in a patrol wagon to the Harrison Street Station, where the “art gallery” of the Police Department was kept, to have their photographs taken. On the way, Loewenstein remarked to Lingg:

“Louis, you want to look your prettiest, so that you will make a good picture.”

“What difference does it make whether a dead man’s picture looks good or bad,” was the reply, uttered in a most serious manner and in a strong tone of voice.

From the gallery the Anarchists were driven to the County Jail, and that was the last time they ever saw the streets of Chicago or breathed the air outside of prison walls.

From the day Lingg entered the jail he became surly and ugly to all the officers, but he implicitly obeyed all prison rules. He held himself aloof from everybody except his fellow Anarchists, and would have nothing to say to any one except his friends or his sweetheart.

Lingg was very fond of children, and when those of Neebe, Schwab or others called at the jail he would play with them and seemed to extract much amusement from their little pranks and antics.

Mrs. Klein often visited him and always brought a baby, in which Lingg seemed to take a special interest. Lingg and Mrs. Klein conversed freely together, and he seemed to enjoy her visits greatly. Whenever she called she brought him fruit of the season and choice edibles with which to vary his prison fare.

Lingg and his associates proved quite a drawing card, and Anarchists from all parts of the country called at the jail. But while his fellows appeared pleased to hold receptions, so to speak, Lingg did not desire the company of strangers. He gave his time only to the few ladies who called on him and to his nearest friends. He disliked being gaped at by curiosity-seekers, and when he had no good friend to keep him company he traveled the corridors of the jail beyond the reach of public gaze. He also whiled time away by cutting pretty little carvings out of cigar-boxes with his jack-knife, and in this he displayed considerable ingenuity. Tiring of this diversion, he would pick up a book or a paper; but, however monotonous prison life at times became, he never thrust himself before the visitors’ cage to pose before the idle throng. Many callers came to sympathize with Lingg as well as to admire his handsome physique, and, as he would not allow his hair to be cut after his incarceration, his flowing, curly locks added to his picturesque appearance.

But there was one visitor he always welcomed. It was his sweetheart, whose acquaintance he had made before his arrest, and who became a regular caller. She invariably wore a pleasant smile, breathed soft, loving words into his ears through the wire screen that separated the visitors’ cage from the jail corridor, and contributed much toward keeping him cheerful. This girl had lived at one time with a family on West Lake Street, in the heart of an Anarchist camp, but, for some reason, while her lover was at the Chicago Avenue Station she never paid him a visit. The second day after he had been locked up at the County Jail she promptly made her appearance, however, and became a regular visitor. She simply passed with the jail officials at first as “Lingg’s girl,” but one day some one called her Ida Miller, and thereafter she was recognized under that name. She was generally accompanied by young Miss Engel, the daughter of Anarchist Engel, and during the last four months of her lover’s incarceration she could be seen every afternoon entering the jail. She was always readily admitted until the day the bombs were found in Lingg’s cell. After that neither she nor Mr. and Mrs. Klein were admitted. While it has never been satisfactorily proven who it was that introduced the bombs into the jail, it is likely that they were smuggled into Lingg’s hands by his sweetheart. She enjoyed Lingg’s fullest confidence, and regarded his every wish.

It is not known whether Miller is the real name of the girl, but it is supposed to be Elise Friedel. She is a German, and was twenty-two years of age at the time, her birthplace being Mannheim, which was also Lingg’s native town. She was robust in appearance, with fair complexion, and dark hair. She had quite a penchant for beer, and could sit in a crowd of her Anarchist friends and drink “schnitts” with the proficiency of a veteran. She always entertained hope of executive clemency, but when Lingg died at his own hands she somewhat surprisingly failed to evince great sorrow. Perhaps the consciousness of having aided him in escaping the gallows had prepared her for the worst.

Lingg’s terrible death did not perceptibly change her demeanor. She was seen at several dances shortly afterwards, and seemed to enjoy herself as much as anybody. She even danced with detectives, unconscious of their calling, and, in jesting with them, her laugh was as hearty and ringing as though she were bent on capturing a new beau.

During all the long, weary days Lingg remained in jail his demeanor was the same as during the trial—cool, collected and unconcerned. No special trouble apparently burdened his mind. His constant companions—whenever they were permitted to be together—were Engel and Fischer. They appeared to believe that their fellow prisoners and co-conspirators would turn on them to save their own lives.

The statement Lingg made, on the 14th of May, omitting the part pertaining to his occupation, age and residence, was as follows:

“Whenever I did any work at home [Seliger’s house] I did it as carefully as possible, so that no one could see me. I did make dynamite bombs out of gas-pipe, and I generally found the gas-pipe on the street. Finding them two or three feet long, I would cut them into pieces. After cutting them about six inches long I would fill them with dynamite and attach a fuse to each. I then would call them bombs.”

“Who showed or taught you how to make those bombs?”

“No one. I learned it from books.”

“What books?”

“I read it in a book published by Herr Most of New York. It explains how to make dynamite and other articles used in war. I once had four bombs in my dinner-box—two were loaded and two empty. I bought two pounds of the stuff on Lake Street, near Dearborn. I also bought one coil of fuse and one box of caps at the same place, and that is all I bought. I paid 65 cents for the box of caps, 60 cents for two pounds of dynamite, and 50 cents for the coil of fuse.”

“Did you work all the material into the bombs?”

“No, there is some of it left in my trunk. I do not deny making bombs. I made them for the purpose of being used in a war or a revolution during these workingmen’s troubles. The bombs found in my room I intended to use myself. I have been at August Spies’ office several times, and I have known him for some time. I always received the Arbeiter-Zeitung, and I like to read it. I made some of those round lead bombs. I made the molds myself and cast the bombs. The iron bolts I used to connect and hold them together I bought in a hardware store. I bought five small ones and two big ones. I could only use the molds to cast bombs with a few times; then they would be useless. At the time I bought the dynamite I was alone. On Tuesday night, May 4, Seliger and I were on Larrabee Street, between Clybourn Avenue and the city limits, and we remained there until about ten o’clock. We then went home and had several glasses of beer. We did not meet any one we knew. We were on Larrabee Street all the time. When we came home Mrs. Seliger was abed. I was at the meeting held in the hall at No. 71 West Lake Street, Monday night, May 3. I saw there the circular which called the workingmen to arms and to seek revenge on the police because they had killed six of our brothers at McCormick’s factory on that day. I also attended a meeting the same night, at No. 54 West Lake Street, which was held by the armed sections. I was out to Lake View and tried one of my dynamite bombs to find out what strength it had. I put the bomb in a tree between two limbs. I lit the fuse; the bomb exploded and split the tree, damaging it considerably. I had my hair cut, and mustache and whiskers shaven off, about May 8th or 9th. I want to say right here to you men that I did make dynamite bombs and intended to use them.

I am down on capital and capitalists. I knew that if we sought our rights—I mean the workingmen—they would turn out the police and militia against us with their Gatling guns and cannon. We knew that we could not defend ourselves with our revolvers, and therefore turned to the adoption of dynamite. For one, I was not going to get hurt. I made bombs of lead and bombs of metal, and I made them with the two materials mixed. I tried both the lead and gas-pipe bombs, and I found that they could do good service. If you cut the fuse ten inches long and light it you can run away forty steps before the explosion takes place. The armed men of the so-called International Group of the North Side always met at Greif’s Hall, No. 54 West Lake Street. We used to go to the Shooting Park in Lake View and shoot at targets on Sundays. I have been there about ten times. I admit that the two Lehmans came to see me at my room at No. 442 Sedgwick Street, and I will confess that on Tuesday, May 4, six men came to my room to see me.”

At this interview there were present, besides myself, Furthmann, Stift, Rehm, Loewenstein, Schuettler and Hoffman. On the 17th of May, Lingg again remarked to Officer Schuettler that he regretted that he had not had a chance to kill him.

On the 24th of May Lingg and Hubner were brought together, and Assistant State’s Attorney Furthmann asked the latter if he knew the bomb-maker.

“Oh, yes, I was at his room on Tuesday afternoon, May 4, helping him to make dynamite bombs, and what I stated in my affidavit is true.”

Lingg scowled furiously, and emphatically denied the statement. All he could be made to say in explanation of the affair, however, was that he “had been a Socialist all his life and ever since he could think.”

ERNST HUBNER was arrested by Officers Schuettler and Whalen on the morning of May 18, at six o’clock, while he was on his way to his work. He is a German by birth and a carpenter by trade, and worked for a man by the name of Schombel, on the corner of Clybourn Avenue and Larrabee Street. He was about forty years of age, married, wore very shabby clothes, and lived, at the time of his arrest, at No. 11 Mohawk Street, in three small and dirty rooms. His house was searched, and the officers found one breech-loading rifle, one large 44-caliber Remington revolver and half a pailful of ammunition for both guns. While they were searching the house, Mrs. Hubner, a sickly, delicate woman, said to Officer Schuettler:

“My dear man, if my husband had gone more to his shop and to work instead of running to meetings, you would not find my house in this shape. I am all broken up. I am sick, and now he is arrested. I suppose this is the last of our family.”

The search still going on, Mrs. Hubner crossed the room to a closet, saying to Schuettler:

“Here, officers, take this devil’s print out of my house. This is what my husband prayed with night and day, and what got him into trouble. If you don’t want to take it, I will throw it into the stove. I don’t want any more families made miserable by it.”

The officer opened the bundle, and the first thing he saw was a picture of the burly face of John Most. This led to the exchange of a few pleasantries between the officers.

“I have got him,” shouted Schuettler.

When Officer Whalen got a glimpse of the portrait, which was printed on the cover of a pamphlet, and not knowing what the title on the cover had reference to, as it was printed in German, or whom the picture represented, he facetiously remarked:

“I see the face of a Scotch terrier.”

“You fool,” replied Schuettler, with a twinkle in his eye, “that is Johann Most.”

“Well,” retorted Whalen, “if that is the great Anarchist, he ought to have two more legs. He’d make a fine ratter.”

In the bundle were found a number of Communistic, Socialistic and Anarchistic documents, and a complete collection of hand-bills of all the meetings that had been held for years past. Hubner had been an active worker at all times. He would post bills, carry hand-bills and do any kind of work for the “good of the cause.” No meetings were ever held too far from his home. He was well known in all the “groups” and to all the leaders. He attended all the picnics and parades. Nothing delighted him more than to carry the big banner belonging to the International Carpenters’ Union No. 1. How he strutted and flaunted that banner as he passed churches, police stations and the residences of the wealthy. Next to Most’s book, that banner was his principal source of inspiration. He would even neglect his meals for the sake of bearing aloft that crimson standard. Whether this was the cause of his emaciated look at the time of his arrest is problematical, but certain it is his appearance, when brought before me, indicated want and starvation, and his voice was weak and husky.

“From what I can hear about you,” I said, “it appears that you are one of the ‘boys.’”

“Oh, well,” drawled Hubner, “you may hear a great deal.”

“Yes,” I replied, “I hear so much it keeps me busy thinking.”

“Have you been thinking any of me?” queried Hubner.

“I have, and I think you are the worst I have heard of yet.”

“Ah, but you have got others far more dangerous than I am.”

“If you want to give credit to any one else, name the parties.”

Hubner finally stated that only on the evening previous, at a meeting of the Carpenters’ Union, a member had said that their attorneys, Messrs. Salomon & Zeisler, held that there was no law to convict any one, and that they would secure the release of the “boys” as fast as the police locked them up. They advised all to “keep their mouths shut,” and that, in the event of an arrest, the police could not hold them longer than two days.

“Do you want to try that and see how it works?” I asked.

“That’s what I want,” responded Hubner, bent on an experiment.

“Well, I guarantee you,” said I smilingly, “that you will remain here with us as long as we like your company. When we get tired of you we will send you to the big jail. Officer, take this man and tell the lockup-keeper that he will probably stay with us a week.”

Hubner was escorted down stairs, given a good cell and allowed to metaphorically wrap “that banner” around him as he lay down to dream of Anarchy. Things got monotonous, however. The very next day he sent word that he desired to see me. He was brought up and made a long statement. He assured me that every word was true, that he would face any of those mentioned and defy them to contradict his assertions. He told the day and date of almost every transaction. He said he would swear to everything he had stated.

“I don’t believe in a God,” he added, “but when I swear, I understand that if I should tell a lie or an untruth I can be punished for it. I am disgusted with the way things are now. There are no more brave men.”

After a few days he was released by order of the State’s Attorney. Before leaving, he promised that he would testify in court in accordance with his statement, and afterwards, for a time, he was on hand whenever sent for.

The parties arrested were required to report regularly. At the commencement of the trial, they were all kept in a large room in the station, where ten officers guarded them night and day. They were taken out for exercise every evening, but were not allowed to talk to any one. Their wives had the privilege of seeing them, but an officer was always present to hear what was said.

Hubner after a time showed signs of weakening. He had been seen by the attorneys for the defense and changed his mind. He also began talking to others, urging them not to testify. He finally said he would not take the stand, and, as he was not wanted to testify, he was again released. After the trial he went back to his comrades, attended some of their meetings and talked for the cause. When the time approached for the execution, he suddenly left the city, and subsequently sent for his family. He has returned to Chicago, however, and is working on Division and Clark Streets, in a little carpenter-shop.

The following is his statement, to the correctness of which he would have testified had he not been a poltroon and a simpleton. It fully bears out the truth of the witnesses who appeared for the State during the trial as to the conspiracy and the parties thereto:

“I know Gottfried Waller. I belong to the armed men. I know George Engel. At one time he published a paper called the Anarchist. I know Louis Lingg. I was at Greif’s Hall, 54 West Lake Street, Monday afternoon about five o’clock. I left there at nine o’clock and got home at eleven the same night. I read and saw a circular that called for revenge and to arm ourselves. I saw August Spies in the hall, and he told us that the police had been shooting our workingmen at McCormick’s, and we should be ready with our arms. Then Rau came into the meeting, very much excited and said that a number of our people had been shot at McCormick’s by the police. He called us to arms. Then Rau and Spies left the hall together. Both were much excited. The speech and talking of Spies in the hall happened in this way. Spies would catch a man alone and talk about the shooting, or when he saw a crowd of four or five standing together he would talk to them to excite them and urge them on. The effect of his talking to us brought our temper to such heat that I and others were ready to take revenge on the police officers and the law. And we would have done almost anything to get revenge. If Spies and Rau had there and then started out and we had had our arms with us, we would have followed them to do harm at once.”

Such was the confession the brave Hubner first made to the police. On the 18th of May he made a second statement, as follows, adding a few further details as to the conspiracy:

“On Tuesday, May 4, about 4 P.M., I went to the house of William Seliger, at 442 Sedgwick Street, and there I found William Seliger and Louis Lingg. I had been in Seliger’s house the day before, and I took along with me when I left three bombs—that is, three empty shells. Lingg also gave me the dynamite with which to fill them. Not knowing how, I was afraid to fill them, and I brought them back to Lingg to fill them for me. When I got there, Seliger and Lingg were working, filling bombs or shells with dynamite. I went to work and helped them and got the bombs ready for use. They had some of them filled when I got there, but in all they filled and finished twenty round lead or metal bombs and about fifteen or eighteen long ones—that is, I mean to say, made of gas-pipe, about six inches or more long. I saw there a lot more of dynamite and fuse. As I went away from there—Seliger’s house—that evening, I took along with me four long bombs, but before I left we had all the bombs finished, ready for use. I saw about six men at 5 P.M. in Seliger’s house, and when any one came Lingg always went to the door and waited upon them. That evening, May 4, at eight o’clock, I went to Neff’s Hall, 58 Clybourn Avenue, and when I had been there only a few minutes I saw Lingg, Seliger and a little stout man, who carried a heavy satchel with a gray cloth cover. They came in together in Neff’s Hall and placed the satchel in a little hallway leading to a ‘gents’ closet.’ I was sent to Neff’s Hall to see and report if there were many of our armed men in the hall who were waiting for bombs. As I had not been there long enough to find out and report back, Lingg and Seliger got tired of waiting at 442 Sedgwick Street and brought the satchel filled with bombs to Neff’s Hall themselves. When Lingg saw me he came up to me and found fault with me for not reporting back sooner. He said there might have been lots of people there who failed to get bombs or shells. After that I went to supper, since Lingg was in the hall to look after things himself. The men I saw there were Hageman and Hermann. On Monday night, May 3, I was at Greif’s Hall, 54 West Lake Street, up to ten o’clock, and afterwards I also went into the saloon. There were about forty men sitting and standing around the bar-room. Someone called out that the so-called armed sections should go down into the basement, as there would be a meeting for them. Then forty of us went down, and we decided to hold a meeting there. This was about nine o’clock in the evening. Gottfried Waller was chosen president. George Engel was one of the speakers and originator of the plan then and there given to us to shoot and kill people and destroy property. He told us what to do and began in this way. He asked us if we knew about his plan. The majority said ‘no.’ Then he began to tell us that his plan was to call a meeting for the next evening at the Haymarket, and there draw out as many police as possible, so that the outside parts of the city would not be strongly protected by the police. The signal for action would be given, and they should set fire to buildings in several places and in all parts of the city. One building at Wicker Park was mentioned, and as soon as they saw it on fire, then they should attack the police stations, throw dynamite bombs into the stations, kill the police officers and destroy the stations. In case a patrol wagon came, they should throw a bomb among the policemen, and if that did not stop them, then they should kill the horses attached to the wagons with their revolvers or guns. After that they should destroy all the property they could. The circular that called for revenge and to arms I saw at the Monday night meeting in the basement, 54 West Lake Street, where Engel spoke and gave us the plan of revolution. The lying of Engel about the killing of six of our brothers at McCormick’s factory started me so that I was ready to do anything desperate. The speech of Engel in the basement that evening worked on me so that I went to Seliger’s house on Tuesday afternoon, May 4, and helped to finish the bombs, as I stated before. George Engel told those that had no arms to stay at home away from the Haymarket meeting, and that men who had arms but no courage should also stay at home. In that meeting there were present Adolph Fischer, Gottfried Waller, George Engel, Breitenfeld, Schnaubelt, John Thielen, Abraham Hermann, Herman Hageman, the two Lehmans and Hubner. Waller told us to go ahead and do our work, that he would be with us. The meeting lasted from nine o’clock to eleven.

Fischer and others agreed to have the circular printed calling the meeting at the Haymarket for Tuesday night, May 4. After all the plans had been explained to us Fischer said ‘That is the one’—meaning the murderous plan—‘that we adopted in our group meeting.’ Every division group were to make their own arrangements. The North Side armed men should meet Tuesday evening, May 4, at the foot of Webster Avenue and Lincoln Park, at the Schiller monument. I went there. I could not find enough of our people there, as the night was dark and those present were scattered. I got tired of waiting for others. The four bombs I had with me that night I took to the North Avenue Pier and threw them into the lake. Then I went home and went to bed. This was about ten o’clock. I did not hear anything of the shooting or the explosion of the bomb or the killing of the policemen at the Haymarket until the next morning when I got up. I went home so early on that evening because I had a headache from the smell of the dynamite used in filling the bombs. We filled thirty-five in all. The word ‘Ruhe’ was intended as the signal word. If it should appear in the Arbeiter-Zeitung May 4, in the ‘Briefkasten,’ then that would be a notification to be ready for the revolution. We were to watch also for the fire and shooting signals as well as the appearance of that word in the paper. We were then all to get ready. I only know of Lingg as a manufacturer of bombs. The plan was presented to the men to go and blow up the Chicago Avenue Station. Also many others were to blow up the Larrabee Street Station and the Webster Avenue Station. The work I did on the bombs was drilling holes in them. This statement I make of my own free will and accord in the presence of the officers named, and it is true and correct. And I furthermore will say that I will not take any bribe to change my statement or make denials; neither will I leave the city or the State as long as this case is pending in court, unless I have the consent of Capt. Schaack; that I always will be ready to give testimony for the people, whenever I am called on in this case, and that I will never make a second statement, that is to say, to a notary public or a justice of the peace, in writing or verbally; that I will only make a statement under oath for the grand jury of the Criminal Court, or Capt. M. J. Schaack.”

Here follow the signature, etc., and the notarial acknowledgment.

On the 24th of May, Hubner, among other things, stated that he knew Herman Muntzenberg.

“I met him,” he said, “as I was carrying around hand-bills for the meeting called May 4 at the Haymarket. Muntzenberg went with me to Seliger’s house that afternoon. We saw Lingg and Seliger making the dynamite bombs, and we helped them to make them. Muntzenberg and I spent about three hours in Seliger’s house that afternoon. Muntzenberg was there when it was stated that the dynamite bombs should be carried down to Neff’s Hall, 58 Clybourn Avenue, that night. Muntzenberg and I, by order of Lingg, went down to Neff’s Hall to see how things looked there and report back to him. That is why Muntzenberg went to meet Lingg and Seliger to help them to carry the bombs to Neff’s place.”

Since the trial I have learned that Hubner knew a great deal more than he divulged in his confession, and that he was one of the parties chosen to aid in blowing up the Webster Avenue Station.

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Chapter XV

Engel in the Toils—His Character and Rough Eloquence—Facing his Accusers—Waller’s Confession—The Work of the Lehr und Wehr Verein—A Dangerous Organization—The Romance of Conspiracy—Organization of the Armed Sections—Plans and Purposes—Rifles Bought in St. Louis—The Picnics at Sheffield—A Dynamite Drill—The Attack on McCormick’s—A Frightened Anarchist—Lehman in the Calaboose—Information from many Quarters—The Cost of Revolvers—Lorenz Hermann’s Story—Some Expert Lying.

ENOUGH was at this time known to make George Engel a mark for speedy police attention. It had been established beyond a doubt that he was one of the central figures in the conspiracy, and it was not long before a warrant was secured charging him with murder. I detailed Officers Stift and Whalen to serve the document, and they found him at his home, No. 286 Milwaukee Avenue. He was a man about fifty years old, stoutly built, round-shouldered, weighing about 170 pounds, and about five feet eight inches in height. He was married and had a daughter about sixteen years of age. He was by trade a painter, but he and his wife conducted a toy-store at the place where they lived. In addition to toys, they sold cigars and tobacco. The building he lived in was a two-story frame, and his support came principally from his business. He always claimed to be a very good friend of policemen, many of whom he said he knew, and they all, he claimed, liked him. He was very radical in his ideas, however, and at all times took an active interest in Anarchist meetings. In fact, he was one of the most rabid of them all. He was a successful organizer and a hard, persistent worker for the cause. He was one of the most positive, determined speakers in the German language in Chicago. He could hold a house all night, and his auditors were always charmed with his ingenious argument, his powerful invective and his captivating sophistry. He was well read on all topics bearing upon Anarchy, had a wonderful memory, and he could always promptly give a plausible “reason for the faith that was in him.” His speeches were always plain, and, although he talked rapidly, he spoke with a directness and force that took complete possession of the illiterate and unthinking rabble. He could work up his auditors to the point of desperation, and with a word he could have sent them out to pillage and murder. It was his brain alone that evolved the gigantic plan of murdering hundreds of people and laying waste thousands of dollars’ worth of property in Chicago, and the fact that he found so many willing to execute his purpose fully proved his power and influence over his Anarchist followers. Like all rabid Anarchists, he had no use for clergymen or the church, Sisters of Charity or anything else that had a tinge of religion in it. He called them all hypocrites and frauds. He was a great admirer of Louise Michel, the French Anarchist, because of her fearlessness and courage, and he never failed to bestow words of praise on Most, whose work he fairly worshiped. The organs of the Anarchists in Chicago he did not think radical enough, and so he ventured to publish a paper of his own called the Anarchist, which, however, did not survive long. He was known as an honest man in all his dealings with his fellow-men, earnest in his convictions, but withal a most dangerous leader and most unrelenting in his hatred of existing society, and thoroughly unscrupulous in the methods to be used to bring about a change.

Engel was always cool and collected, rarely exhibiting signs of excitement. This fact was brought out most strikingly when the officers found him at his home, on the 18th of May, at five o’clock, and informed him that they had a warrant for his arrest on the charge of murder. He was painting in his house at the time, and, turning to the officers with a smile on his face, he nonchalantly remarked:

“Well, this is very strange.”

The officers then told him that I desired to see him immediately, and he responded that if that was the case he supposed he must go with them.

When he arrived at the station he was informed again of the nature of the charge against him, and the floor, so to speak, was accorded him for any explanations he might desire to make.

“I am the most innocent man in the world,” he began, in a slow, deliberate voice. “I could not hurt a child or see any one hurt.”

Engel was then subjected to some close questioning, and all he could be made to say was this:

“On Monday, May 3, I was working for a friend of mine named Koch. I was doing some painting for him that evening between the hours of eight and nine o’clock. I then went to a meeting at Greif’s Hall, 54 West Lake Street. The meeting was held in the basement. I don’t know Mr. Waller. I do not belong to the Northwest Side group. I don’t belong to any armed men. I don’t know of any plan or conspiracy. I did not give any plan at that meeting. I was there at the meeting only a little while. I did not speak there, nor had I anything to say to any one. I did not, and was not authorized by any one to give a plan.”

He thus flatly contradicted every charge and seemed determined to put a bold front upon the situation. Confronted by the facts, he never winced, but kept up a bold exterior. He was then locked up at the station. Subsequently his wife called and met him in my office.

“Papa, see what trouble you have got yourself into,” she sadly remarked.

“Mamma,” he responded, “I cannot help it. What is in me must come out.”

“Why,” I interposed, “don’t you stop that nonsense?”

“I know,” replied Engel, “I have promised my wife so many times that I would stop it. But I cannot do it. I cannot help it that I am possessed of some eloquence and enthusiasm. It is a curse to some people to be possessed of this knowledge. I cannot help it that I am gifted in that way. I am not the first man that has been locked up for this cause, but I will bear it like a man. Louise Michel is a great woman. She has been locked up and suffered for principle. I am willing to do the same.”

When Engel was asked where he had been on Tuesday evening, May 4, he responded: “At home all night, lying on a lounge.”

Two days after Engel’s arrest I secured a statement—in addition to that of Hubner—from Gottfried Waller, implicating the nervy Anarchist in the conspiracy in connection with “the plan.”

I therefore thought it best to have Engel face his accuser, Waller, and, on the evening of May 24, at 9:30 o’clock, the two men were brought together in my office. Mr. Furthmann, who was present, with the officers, asked Engel, the moment he was brought in, if he knew the party before him. Engel, without the slightest hesitancy or tremor, answered in the negative. He was next asked if he had not attended the meeting at No. 54 West Lake Street, and Engel stated that he had come in late during the proceedings.

Waller then reiterated his charge, that Engel was not only a speaker on that occasion, but the man who had submitted a plan for murder and destruction.

“In fact,” said Waller, “you were the only man who urged a revolution and spoke about your plan.”

When questioned as to what he had to say to this, Engel retorted that “it was not true,” as he had not been authorized by any one to propose a plan. Inasmuch as the accusation of Waller failed to make any perceptible impression on Engel’s mind, I decided to see how the presence of another accuser would affect his deportment and answers. Accordingly Ernst Hubner was asked if he would face Engel, and, an answer being given firmly in the affirmative, Engel was again brought back into the office. There were present at this, as well as at the former interview, Furthmann, Whalen, Stift, Schuettler, Hoffman, Loewenstein and Rehm. The moment Engel was brought up by an officer, Assistant State’s Attorney Furthmann asked Hubner if he was acquainted with Engel. Hubner replied, “Yes, I know him.”

Addressing Engel, I said:

“This is Ernst Hubner. He says that he knows you, and he also has made a statement against you.”

Engel replied that he did not know the man, whereupon Hubner reiterated his acquaintanceship, and added:

“Your name is Engel, and you keep a toy-store on Milwaukee Avenue. You made speeches at 58 Clybourn Avenue. I saw and heard you several times. I saw you in a meeting May 3, 9 P.M., at 54 West Lake Street.”

“Engel,” I interrupted, “listen, and I will read you what Hubner said about you.”

Engel assented, and the statement of Hubner, as already given, was read.

“It is false,” replied Engel; “but if that good man says I did say so, then you can believe him. I do not care.”

“Where did you see Engel last?” inquired Furthmann of Hubner.

“I saw him at the meeting held at Greif’s Hall, 54 West Lake Street, where I heard him speak about the revenge circular and his plan, which he said had been adopted by the Northwest Side group. He spoke of the plan as I have heretofore explained in my affidavit to the officers.”

“You still say that that affidavit is true in every respect?”

“I do,” emphatically replied Hubner.

“It is not so, and it is not true,” stoutly replied Engel.

“Well,” said I, “there are other people, and we will have more, who will prove that you did make a revolutionary speech and submitted a plan calling on your people to get ready with their arms and do violence. If other witnesses are produced, will you still have the same answer to give?”

“It would not be true; it is not so,” reiterated Engel.

“But,” I added, “suppose I produce twenty more men who will accuse you the same as Waller and Hubner have accused you, what then would you have to say?”

“My answer,” responded Engel, “would be that I have never spoken as charged against me. It is not true.”

Engel had evidently made up his mind to deny everything, and, knowing his character for stubbornness, I made no further efforts to secure a statement from him. A man who could originate such a cold-blooded scheme as he had proposed—and part of it was actually carried out in bloodshed—was evidently not the kind to yield, and I allowed him to ruminate over his predicament in a cell below until the 27th of May, when he was sent to the County Jail. As will subsequently appear, he never showed signs of weakness during his incarceration from the time he was taken from his house that night until he dropped from the gallows, dying the hardest of them all. A half dozen such men at a critical time could upset a whole city, and it was fortunate for Chicago that there were not more like him during the troublous days of 1886.

Some two days before Engel was brought in, GOTTFRIED WALLER was arrested by Officer Whalen. It appeared that he had been selling revolvers to workingmen, and after being taken to the station, on the 14th of May, he was released on bail. His importance then as a conspicuous figure in the Monday night meeting, when the murderous “plan” was adopted, was not clearly apparent, but he was kept under surveillance and his antecedents carefully inquired into. Thielen, in his confession on the very day Waller was arrested, referred to him as having presided at that meeting, and, in describing a man who called at Lingg’s room on Tuesday afternoon, May 4, said he “believed he worked at Brunswick & Balke’s factory.” Hubner, in his affidavit on the 18th of May, stated that Waller had presided on the occasion referred to, and had even urged them to go ahead and do their work, and he would be with them—meaning their work of destruction. On these and other facts a warrant was secured for his arrest for murder, and on the 20th of May he was again taken into custody by Officers Whalen and Stift. He was a Swiss by birth, a cabinet-maker by occupation, and worked at the Brunswick, Balke & Collender billiard factory. His age at the time of his arrest was thirty-six years, and he was a married man with one child. At the time of his first arrest he was living at No. 590 Milwaukee Avenue, and at his second arrest he was found at No. 105 North Wells Street. He had been only three years in America, and had scarcely settled in Chicago before he began attending the Anarchist meetings. He always frequented the gatherings where Swiss people assembled, and on a search being made of their meeting-place, 105 North Wells Street, on the 7th of May, the police found twelve guns. It had been the headquarters for the most dangerous element in the order, and on Waller’s visiting the place after the trial of the Anarchists a serious attempt was made on his life. He was called a spy, and was pursued until he found safety under the shadow of the Chicago Avenue Station. Several parties were afterwards arrested for this assault. They subsequently threw a piece of iron through the window of the house where Waller was stopping, but this was the last futile exhibition of their rage.

In view of his testimony, which appears further on in the review of the trial, Waller was given an unconditional release, and he has since conducted himself as a peaceable citizen.

After his confession bearing directly on the principal parties in the conspiracy, Waller wrote out his experience with the Lehr und Wehr Verein in particular and his connection with Anarchy in general. His story is as follows:

“On the 25th of January, 1884, I arrived in Chicago from Easton, Pa. I lived sixteen months on Grove Avenue, Humboldt. I was never a Socialist or Anarchist. I understood very little of the former and nothing at all of the latter. After residing for a while at the place mentioned, I moved to Milwaukee Avenue, near No. 636, Thalia Hall, on that street. Here I noticed people uniformed and armed about twice a week. They would enter this hall, and, by making inquiries, I was informed that these people belonged to the second company of the Lehr und Wehr Verein and that they were a sort of ‘Schuetzen Verein,’ which practiced twice a week in the North Chicago Schuetzen Park (Sharpshooters’ Park). Their principles were kept secret. As I was an expert sharpshooter and had a passion for military exercises, I accepted an invitation from their commander to participate in their practices. We met on the following Sunday at Thalia Hall, at five o’clock in the morning, and continued for some time. We dispersed by each going in different directions toward the park, so as not to arouse any suspicion. On account of cold weather only fourteen of us came together. It was no fun to walk knee-deep in the snow; still we were feeling good since we were going to practice shooting. After several rounds of drinks, which were called for in payment of the stand we used on such occasions, we erected two targets and commenced practicing. I soon noticed that the company consisted of good marksmen, and that day I was pronounced the best marksman among them. After that I wanted to become a member of the Verein, as I had been asked several times by some of them to join.

I called at Thalia Hall one Monday evening and was taken to the cellar, which I entered through a secret door by means of a ladder. Here I saw thirty to thirty-five men practicing shooting at a target. The cellar was not well lighted except at the north end, where the targets stood. The people and all the surroundings looked quite adventurous to me. One of the members then approached me and asked if I was a Socialist. I answered, ‘Yes,’ in an off-hand way. The first sergeant of the company, August Krueger, told me beforehand to do this. I paid my initiation fee, got a red card numbered 19, by which number I was afterwards known, and I was then a member. All the members were very cautious before me on account of my not being well known to them. We practiced every Monday and Wednesday, drilling and shooting. I paid a great deal of attention to these exercises. I never missed a meeting, and consequently I soon gained the confidence of all the members.

“At the first general meeting, which was held every last Tuesday of each month, at No. 54 West Lake Street, I was enlightened, and how I was enlightened will appear as I proceed with my statement. I now desire first to speak of the Lehr und Wehr Verein. This society consists of four companies from various parts of the city, and forms a revolutionary military organization. The first company belongs to the North Side; second company, the Northwest Side; third company, the Southwest Side; and the fourth company was formed by the commander at Pullman. The first company was the strongest and consisted of about one hundred and twenty members. The second consisted of thirty-five members; the third about eighty; and the fourth, forty members. Consequently the battalion consisted of two hundred and seventy-five members. You could rely upon one hundred and eighty men; the others were more or less indifferent and passive. All the members were armed with Springfield rifles, 48-caliber, and with Remington revolvers, 44-caliber. Every member was well supplied with ammunition at his house, which was always purchased by the quartermaster of the company. The uniform consisted of a blouse, with white buttons, and with shoulder-straps for the officers, black leather belts with brass buckles inscribed L. W. V., dark pantaloons and black slouch hats. Every company had a captain, lieutenant and first sergeant. Besides these the company had the following officers: A corresponding secretary, financial secretary, treasurer, quartermaster, and a Lehr und Wehr auditor. The commander received a monthly salary of $15.00, and the financial secretary $4.00. The commander was Gustav Breitenfeld. Captain of the first company, Abraham Hermann; second company, Bernhard Schrader; third company, H. Betzel, and fourth company, Paul Pull. Under command of these people, the companies were drilled and instructed. The corresponding secretary attended to all the correspondence, domestic and foreign, which was not a very easy job, because we corresponded with the Internationale of the whole country. The financial secretary collected the dues, and turned them all over to myself as treasurer. The quartermaster, A. Hermann, had to supply arms and ammunition. The Lehr und Wehr auditor had to investigate all complaints and to impose all fines and collect the same. The meeting-place of the first company was at Mueller’s Hall, on North Avenue and Sedgwick Street, in basement; of the second company, at Thalia Hall, on Milwaukee Avenue; of the third company, at Vorwaerts Turn Hall, on West Twelfth Street, and of the fourth company, at Rosenheim, in Pullman. Another curiously mixed company also belonged to the Verein. It was commanded by Captain Betzel, of the third company, and it had nothing to do with us in a business way.

“The whole battalion assembled once every month on pleasant days on the prairie behind the ice-houses of Schofield & Co., on the West Side, and practiced skirmish drills. The commands were given in English, and no one knew the members by name—only by numbers.

“This brings me to the first general meeting of the Verein at No. 54 West Lake Street that I attended. Before the opening of the meeting, every one who entered the hall was examined so that none but members might get in. The meetings would be called to order by the secretary, and then a chairman and a doorkeeper would be chosen. August Krause, of the second company, was generally called upon to officiate as chairman. First of all the correspondence would be read, and at one meeting a letter was read from Most, of New York, which pertained to arms. In the first meeting Commander Breitenfeld was ordered to proceed to Pullman every Sunday to work for the cause, and for his services he received a remuneration of $3 for each trip. The new company in that town finally reported a large increase of fine material with strong Anarchistic doctrines. The quartermaster, who then was Lehnert, was ordered to purchase forty rifles and four boxes of ammunition, each containing 4,000 rounds. The treasurer delivered to him $250, and afterwards we duly received the rifles from a firm in St. Louis. After all business had been transacted one of the eager members delivered a speech touching the best means of bringing on the social revolution. He proved very violent in his sentiments, and all present agreed with him that this revolution could only be accomplished with fire, powder, lead and dynamite. For a public attack on the streets of Chicago the speaker considered us too weak. As to the ‘property beasts,’ as he called the small owners of buildings, he regarded them as our biggest enemies, as they would attack us from their windows and defeat us, and consequently our only hope for a victory lay in the torch and dynamite. When Chicago would be surrounded by fire and destroyed, these ‘beasts,’ he said, would be obliged to take refuge on the prairies, and there it would be very easy for us to master them by our unmerciful proceedings. If this was done, other cities, like New York, St. Louis, Pittsburg, etc., would follow our example. Then all eyes would be centered on the Anarchists of Chicago, and therefore we would proclaim the Commune.

“All these utterances were accepted with great applause, and every one wanted to commence immediately. I thought differently. I remembered the revolution of 1848 in Germany and that of 1871 in Paris and its consequences.

“Krause, after this speech, took the floor and spoke in favor of the revolution. He stated that they ought to invite the Anarchists of other cities to join them here, and then we could commence the work of destruction. Then other members gave their views, and the meeting adjourned with an injunction that every one should be silent with reference to our proceedings.

“This brings me to the revolutionary party. This organization consists of the following sections and groups: The Lehr und Wehr Verein, commander Breitenfeld; Northwest Side group, commanders Engel, Fischer and Grumm; North Side group, commanders Neebe, Lingg and Hermann; American group, commanders Spies, Parsons and Fielden; Karl Marx Group, commander Schilling; the Freiheit group; the armed sections of the International Carpenters’ Union and the Metal-workers’ Union. The whole party is under the leadership of a general committee. This committee is composed of Spies, Schwab, Parsons, Neebe, Rau, Hirschberger, Deusch and Belz. The committee held their meetings in one of the rooms of the Arbeiter-Zeitung and received weekly reports from the delegates of the various groups. A part of the monthly dues was delivered to the general committee, and all expenses for traveling at the instance of the agitation committee (Parsons and Schwab) and for arms were paid by the quartermaster.

“On one occasion I attended a general meeting of the revolutionary party at No. 54 West Lake Street, at which the whole party of armed sections were represented. After all precautions had been taken as to safety, August Spies took the chair and Neebe acted as secretary. We had to produce our cards of membership on entering, and every group was called by name, and each representative had to rise in his seat for close inspection. The first business was a complaint from the Northwest group and the Lehr und Wehr Verein that the funds had been mismanaged and thrown away. Both organizations declared that they would withdraw their delegates and, after that, act independently. Spies became as furious as a snake when trodden upon, and he got up and told them that they might leave immediately. This started a war of words. Some retorted that the Arbeiter-Zeitung was not radical enough, and it must be made different from that moment. The members of the general committee were called impostors and loafers. The Lehr und Wehr Verein had paid some $75 for the purchase of arms, but they had neither seen the arms nor the money. Engel and the Northwest Side group were brought into the wrangle, and he was called a traitor. They said that Engel would bring the whole party to ruin, likewise the Arbeiter-Zeitung, but they (Engel and the paper) did not care so long as it enriched themselves. Finally the Northwest group withdrew, and some of the members of the Lehr und Wehr Verein shortly afterwards followed suit. From this time on there were constant disputes.

“Engel and Grunewald collected money for a new paper and started the Anarchist, a paper like Most’s Freiheit in New York. Shortly after these societies had left the hall, the fight was taken up again by some of the females who were present,—Mrs. Parsons, Mrs. Bolling, Mrs. Schwab and Mrs. Holmes,—and it was continued until Spies was declared out of order. Hirschberger then reported the result of the sale of revolutionary literature, such as the works of Louise Michel, Most’s ‘Revolutionary Warfare,’ etc., and he stated that it had exceeded his expectations. After this they discussed picnics, and a number desired them to be held outside of the city. Sheffield was suggested, because by going there they would bring in more money, and when there they could speak more freely their Anarchist sentiments. It was finally decided to hold a meeting of the workingmen on Market Square on Thanksgiving day, and Parsons was ordered to make the necessary arrangements. Spies called attention to the importance of every one attending that meeting, and urged that they should not come without a bomb or a revolver. The bombs, he said, they could purchase at the Arbeiter-Zeitung office, four for $1. The time was near, he said, when the long-looked-for revolution would take place, and so they should avail themselves of every opportunity. He wanted all Anarchists to work against the eight-hour movement, because if it should prove successful our movement would receive a set-back for several years. Our cause would not be hastened by it. He complained about our small gain in numbers and attributed it to the poor agitation of some of the members. After this I left the hall.

“On the day before Thanksgiving we drilled in Thalia Hall. At the end of the exercise we were all requested to attend the meeting the following day, and Lehnert distributed some bombs in the shape of gas-pipe. He stated that he could only get four, but that on the next day at one o’clock every member could have one by calling at the hall. The next day most of the members put in an appearance. Members of the Northwest Side group also called. Adolph Fischer was there with a basketful of bombs like the one I saw the day before, which was the first time I had ever seen a bomb, and he told us distinctly to use them in case the Market Square meeting was dispersed. He cut a piece of fuse about the length of one on a bomb, put it on the table and lighted it with a cigar. He showed the way it worked and posted us as to the time it would have to burn before a bomb to which it might be attached should be thrown. He also showed us the way we should throw a bomb, and after this exhibition we all proceeded to the meeting.

“On arriving at Market Square, I noticed a stage made out of barrels, with a red flag attached to it, and this was our meeting-place. Parsons mounted the platform and addressed the assemblage, which consisted of about a thousand people. It was a fortunate thing that the crowd was no larger, else the bloody bath of May 4 would have taken place that day, in view of all the preparations and the hostile feeling among us. The Northwest Side group was fully armed, and the preparations were alike complete among all the the other sections. Schwab, Fielden and Neebe were present, but none of them spoke. After they had waved the red flag the meeting adjourned. Bad, cold weather contributed to the small attendance.

“After reading in the newspapers that on a certain Monday some of McCormick’s strikers would resume work, the armed groups were called to a meeting at Goercke’s Hall, on Twentieth Street and Blue Island Avenue. Reinhold Krueger and Tannenberg represented the second company of the Lehr und Wehr Verein, and I joined them on the way to the place of meeting. Arriving there, I found most of the different sections represented, and the meeting opened. Gustav Belz, of the Metal-workers’ Union, and employed at McCormick’s, was chairman, and after some discussion we concluded to stop the reopening of the factory by force. On account of the short time for a proper notification to our members, we decided to have our well-known signal, ‘Y, come Monday’ (which would mean that all was ripe for action, and our men should came to our regular meeting place, 54 West Lake Street), in the ‘Briefkasten’ of the Arbeiter-Zeitung, and it was accordingly done. We also at the meeting conferred with respect to having some of our men mix up with the ‘scabs’ by going to work with them in the factory, and then, when the moment for action arrived, they should set the factory on fire in several places. Those who were to do this were not to act, however, until they learned the result of the meeting that was to be held under the call of our signal, ‘Y.’ During the same day, after the meeting, Belz and Tannenberg carried several bombs out to the Black Road. What happened the following Monday at the factory everybody knows. Strikers and others assembled by thousands. The great bell at the factory rang, and the ‘scabs’ went to work. During the day disturbances followed and many arrests were made of people who were found to have concealed weapons, and who were afterwards fined $10 in the Police Court.

“But a change took place the following Tuesday. In accordance with the signal published in the Arbeiter-Zeitung, about 180 of our people gathered at No. 54 West Lake Street. Most of them carried their arms and some carried bombs. I saw Suess, and some others unknown to me, have bombs of the round pattern. These men even had their rifles with them, and everyone knew what was up. The several sections formed in platoons. Belz was elected chairman, and they consulted as to what should be done. First they regretted that the strikers had not reached McCormick’s that Monday morning, before the arrival of the police, in time to secure possession of the place, and then Betzel of the third company spoke and insisted that they should go around there during the night, secure good positions and then attack the patrol wagons as they passed on the following morning. He said he would give strict instructions to his company to obey his command, and then, when the police came to take their positions, they should be met with a good reception from well-aimed rifles. About fifty members wanted this plan carried out, but I noticed that most of them carried their hearts in their pants, and had very little courage. Excuses after excuses were made. Suess gave his bomb to a comrade and told him that when he thought of his wife and home he had doubts about going into an uncertain adventure. Balthasar Rau also protested against the plan. Some one suggested that they should stay there, in the hall, all night. Belz declared that he was of the same opinion about remaining; but, he said, he had a better plan to reach Mr. McCormick. It was very easy, he said, to attack this money baron in his own house. He described the house and rooms, and the location of the windows, and said that they should throw one of these ‘play balls’ in through the window of the room where McCormick would be sitting, and send him flying to heaven. This course should be taken by some one of those present, of his own accord, so that no second or third party would know the perpetrator. There seemed to be no response to this, and, noticing the want of enthusiasm, he grasped his rifle and made a motion to break it in two, calling them all at the same time cowards. He then left the hall. I was surprised at this, because among those assembled there were some of the worst Anarchists in the city, notably Lingg, Engel, Fischer and Grunewald. McCormick, however, is alive to-day. Rau notified those present that if any one wanted any bombs they should follow him to the Arbeiter-Zeitung office, and he would supply them. The meeting then adjourned.

“After the experience I had thus had with the party, I was sorry that I ever joined. I found that what good humor I had formerly possessed had been completely wiped out by my associations with the revolutionary party. I wanted now to join some good society, and I thought of some good excuse for leaving the party. My opportunity came. My comrades wanted me to buy a supply of ammunition, as the 1st of May was near at hand, but I found that there was not money enough in the treasury. The financial secretary had been very slow in delivering to me all the money he had collected, and I discovered that his love for the shining dollars was so great that he would let some of them fall through his fingers. I found out his dishonesty, and I brought it to light. On this account we became enemies, and sometimes he would rather have seen me dead than McCormick. One evening I stood in front of the bar at Thalia Hall with him just before target practice. I was talking about something not in his favor. We finally came to hot words and then to blows. I let him have a few right-handers, and he drew his revolver and fired one shot, the ball passing close to my right ear and striking the wall. The proprietor of the saloon took the revolver away from him, and he attacked me again with a rawhide [a billy], which he always carried. He struck me over the head, and I grabbed a chair and gave it to him savagely. He skipped out. Shortly after this I sent the money-box with Schrader to the Verein along with my written resignation. In that I explained that I did not want to associate with murderers and manslayers. It was accepted, and I was again a free man, rejecting every inducement except one to join their ranks again. This exception grew out of my own foolishness and happened when I attended the ill-fated meeting of May 2d.

“This meeting on May 2d was held on Emma Street. During the day, which was a pleasant one, I went out early for a walk. While I was absent some one called at my house and told my wife that I was wanted at No. 63 Emma Street that evening at ten o’clock. I returned home about 10:30 o’clock the same morning, and as I did not know the hall, nor knew the person who had notified my wife, I proceeded to the number given. This visit was a most unfortunate one for me. Entering the hall, I noticed the Northwest Side group and the second company of the Lehr und Wehr Verein. I was just on the point of leaving, when Schrader called me back, and, not liking to act like a coward, I remained. A person named Kistner acted as chairman. They wanted to admit a member who had been proposed by two members as true and faithful, but Engel objected, and the man had to leave the hall. They then proceeded to business, having first ascertained that the twenty or twenty-five persons present were in perfect security. Engel took the floor and sailed into the capitalists and the police. He said that they should, when an opportunity presented itself, imitate the Anarchist leaders when, at the Bohemian Turner Hall masquerade ball, they had thrown pepper in the eyes of policemen who were present to make an attack on the turners, and he explained how that assault on their part had come very near costing him his life. But he had done it for the good of the cause. He then spoke of the labor troubles and said that now was the time to produce the revolution. It was unwise to let it pass. Then he proceeded to outline a plan for it, saying that, if any one had a better one to suggest, to say so.”

Waller gives the details of the plan just as he gave it in court, and continues:

“I could not advise any one to speak against the motion for the adoption of the plan, as he would have been dealt with accordingly. Breitenfeld stated subsequently at Thalia Hall that he would do everything in his power to carry out this plan and that he would not work for the next few days, and that on the day given he would be at No. 54 West Lake Street to make all the arrangements.

“What happened on Monday at McCormick’s is known. Spies hurried to write the ‘Revenge’ circular, stating that six men had been killed, and put it into circulation. That day I was at No. 105 Wells Street, where the workingmen employed in Brunswick & Balke’s factory held their meetings. I got home about six o’clock and had my supper, but I did not know then as to the conflict with the police at McCormick’s. I did not feel like going to the meeting called for that evening at No. 54 West Lake Street. I had hardly been home thirty minutes when Clermont, of the second company, entered my room and asked:

“‘Did you hear the news?’

“‘What?’ I asked.

“‘From McCormick’s,’ he replied.

“‘What then?’ I asked.

“‘Ten men were killed by the police, and more than twenty wounded,’ he said. ‘Now we must commence.’

“I did not believe it at first, but when he showed me the ‘Revenge’ circular my blood shot up into my head and I went with him to the meeting. As we passed Engel’s house we met him and Fischer, and they joined us. On the way to the meeting, Engel said that if any one wanted to see him they should take the rear door and enter, as he thought the detectives were watching his house. Having arrived at the hall, Breitenfeld called the revolutionary men down to the cellar, and to my surprise I was elected chairman.”

Waller then details the business that was there transacted, the story being identical with that he gave on the witness-stand, and alludes to his visit to Engel’s house on his way to the Haymarket meeting on the evening of May 4. He had been previously asked by A. Krueger, Kraemer, and two others, who called at his own house while he was eating his supper, to go with them to Wicker Park, as they wanted to be at their post in response to the signal “Ruhe,” but he declined to go with them. Waller continues:

“I went to Engel’s. He was not at home, and we waited in a room behind the store. There were two others there, one a member of the Northwest Side group, and the other I did not know. The first one went away to get some pepper, as he said, and returned again in a few minutes.... He said he was only waiting for the pills, meaning the bombs. I waited about five minutes, and during the time a young girl about ten or twelve years old put in an appearance, carrying a heavy parcel, which she handed to the man who had gone out for the pepper and who was waiting for ‘pills.’ I took the man to be her father. He disappeared behind a screen, and I walked out.”

Waller next gives the circumstances in connection with the Haymarket meeting precisely as he gave them in court, and reverts back to the meeting of Monday night at No. 54 Lake Street, referring to a speech made on that occasion by Clermont. That man, Waller says, spoke substantially as follows: “I expect to see about 20,000 or 25,000 people at the Haymarket. The speeches should be very threatening and fierce so that the police will be compelled to disperse the meeting. Then, when the police become engaged, we can carry out our purpose.” Before this meeting came to order, Greif, the proprietor of the place, was around lighting the lamps, and while doing so he remarked, says Waller: “This is just the place for you conspirators.”

Among those expecting to do deeds of violence on the night of the Haymarket, at Wicker Park, was “Big” Krueger, and Waller mentions the fact that he met him the next day at noon.

“Krueger showed me a revolver,” says Waller, “and I told him that he had better leave it at home. He replied that he would not do it, as he intended to kill every one who came across his path, and he left. A few hours after he shot at a policeman and lost his life.”

Officer Madden was the officer thus assailed, and he immediately turned around and shot the Anarchist down in his tracks.

In concluding his statement Waller refers to his arrest and says:

“On the way to the station I made up my mind not to say a word. Arriving there, Capt. Schaack got to talking to me and put several questions to me in the presence of several detectives. I noticed that telling lies would not do me any good, and the friendly and courteous treatment of the Captain made such an impression on my mind that I told, by and by, everything with a throbbing heart. I promised to repeat my statements before court, and I did so.”

OTTO LEHMAN was well known to the police by reputation through frequent mention of his name by fellow Anarchists, but he managed for some time to keep himself out of the way of a personal acquaintanceship with the force. He never did cherish admiration for policemen, and his dislike grew even more intense after he had learned that he was wanted. The sight of a blue-coat would drive him fairly wild, and the only way he could assuage his wrath was to take to his heels and run until his surcharged feelings had oozed out at the ends of his toes. He was a brave, defiant man in the presence of his comrades, and with his military bearing he seemed the very personification of courage. He had a great penchant for lager beer, and, while emptying glass after glass, he talked Anarchy to the great delight of his hearers. He was an enthusiastic attendant at all meetings of the fraternity, and always wanted the speakers to make their harangues strong and incendiary. If one of them failed to threaten capitalists with dynamite and guns, he lost interest in the proceedings. In that case he would tilt his chair back and take a nap. The moment some one rasped the air with stinging words against capitalists and the police, Lehman would be on his feet and applaud vociferously. He would then adjourn to a saloon, fill himself up with lager and go home to dream of happy days when everybody was to be rich without labor. Some nights he would jump up in bed half asleep,—this is the story of his fellow roomers,—and shout:

“Down with them; shoot them! Don’t give them any quarter! The world now is ours.”

His bed-companion, aroused by the demonstration, would take him by the collar and pull him down, after which he would sleep quite contentedly. This sort of exhibition was repeated after every meeting at which some new infernal machine had been spoken of, or some new torture for capitalists suggested. Such speeches made him strong in the faith, and so enthusiastic was he always that he managed to become quite a favorite with his fellows. In return for their admiration, he would spend his last cent in buying beer. His boarding-house was at No. 189 Hudson Avenue.

Although this is only a two-story building, there were living in it at the time no less than eight families. That there were no more is no fault of the house. And such families! Every one of them, from the youngest who could talk, to the oldest who could bear arms, was a turbulent Anarchist. Lehman was always happy in such surroundings. Had he only had his wife and children there, his joy would have been as nearly complete as possible until all capitalists had been exterminated. Unfortunately his family were in Germany. He had left them there three years before. At that time he would have been pleased to bring them along with him had it not been for his haste to get out of Emperor William’s dominions to escape the law of the land.

In his new surroundings in America Lehman only waited for the day when millionaires would either “bite the dust” or capitulate by handing over their wealth to the Anarchists. He never for a moment doubted that that day was almost at hand. Even after the Haymarket riot he had hope, but it vanished completely the moment he was within the grasp of the law. Of course, he did everything to save himself for another revolution by keeping away from the “hated police.” Had it not been for his standing in Germany he would have returned there and waited until the excitement in Chicago had died out, and his comrades had fixed up another plan. He would have even gone to Canada, but he had never heard of it as a refuge for Anarchists. For a time he succeeded remarkably well in dodging us, as we had only a meager description of his appearance; but on the 20th of May he was seen by Officers Schuettler and Hoffman on the North Side. They did not know him at the time. Lehman, however, apèears to have been suspicious of their movements, as there had recently been many inquiries for him in the locality. The moment Hoffman caught a glimpse of the slippery Anarchist, he remarked to his comrade:

“I’ll bet that is one of the cut-throats. We’ll take him in on general principles, and we can soon find out where he belongs.”

The officers gradually approached him, but Lehman, suspecting their intentions, at once started on the run. He had run only half a block when he was captured, put in irons and taken to the station. On his arrival, I asked him his name.

“I’ll tell you my name, and that is all,” replied Lehman, in a surly mood and with an air of bravado. “I am not ashamed of my name, no matter if I am poor. I am as good a man as Grant. Now, don’t trouble me any more. I am closed, and you cannot open me with a crow-bar. Look at me and tell the newspapers you have seen me. I am ready to be locked up.”

“Otto,” said I, “you have a brother named August, and he has a son by the name of Paul. That boy is a very good runner, and at the Haymarket, May 4, he was going to run and carry the news to outside men. The boy did run, but not with news for the waiting men. He kept running until he got out of town, and I know where he is. You will have him with you in a few days. So good-by, Otto; I will see you about the first of June. Officers, lock him up.”

Otto was accordingly escorted down stairs. He had no sooner been placed in a cell than the officers learned the location of his boarding-house at the number given. They at once repaired to the place and gave it a thorough overhauling. They learned that immediately after the Haymarket, and especially since officers had been frequently noticed in the locality, many of the occupants had disappeared in a great hurry, some even forgetting the clean linen that hung in their back yards, and others neglecting to square their board bills.

The officers searched the premises and found several loaded dynamite bombs, some showing conclusively that they had come from Lingg’s factory. It was subsequently learned that Lingg had furnished them to Lehman—one on the evening of May 4, at 58 Clybourn Avenue, and another shortly after, on the same street, near Larrabee. The bombs were all ready for use, and contained Lingg’s extra strong explosive, almost doubly as powerful as the ordinary commercial dynamite.

Two days after his arrest, about eleven o’clock, Lehman was not in a very happy frame of mind. His dreams had not been pleasant, and the possibility of hanging haunted him continually. He told the janitor that he wanted to see the Captain. I sent back word that I could not see him until the next day. Again in the afternoon he sent the janitor to say that he must see me at once, and that he would not speak so defiantly as he had done before. Otto was thereupon brought up. As he came in, he took off his hat and apologized for his rude behavior. After inviting the Anarchist to take a seat, I remarked:

“You know what you are arrested for?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied.

“Have you made up your mind, then, as to what you wish to say?”

He answered in the affirmative.

“Will you tell me all you know of the Anarchists ever since you became one of them?”

Assent being given, I continued: “Now, you must understand I know a great deal of this work myself.”

Otto said he so understood.

“Well, I don’t want you to lie to me, and I don’t want you to lie about anybody else to benefit yourself. All you tell me must be true, and if I find that you conceal anything, I will consider you a liar and have nothing more to do with you.”

“Oh, yes,” meekly and penitently replied Lehman, “I do agree with you on that point, and you will find me right. I will swear to all I say, and if I lie you can hang me in this station. But, Captain, I want something for telling the truth.”

“Well,” I replied, “I will have the State’s Attorney or his representative here, and if he tells you to speak and promises to reward you, you can depend upon his word.”

In the presence of Assistant State’s Attorney Furthmann, Otto at once unburdened his mind and related his knowledge of Anarchy in Chicago. He also testified to a fact, made apparent in my interviews with other prisoners, that he, like others, had been carried away by “the d——d Anarchist literature,” as he expressed it, and that he now fully realized the utter folly of his past course. He had been told, he said, just as others had been told, by those who had lived in America for a long time, that this was a free country, and there was no law to stop them. “You can see for yourself,” they used to say to him, “they are all afraid of us. Nobody interferes with us. We have everything all our own way.”

“That sort of talk,” said Lehman, “made me as bad as the rest of them.”

He had fully believed, as his friends had informed him, that it was legal to talk dynamite, and that they could form plans for murder with impunity and without molestation. Mr. Furthmann read and explained the law to him, when he said:

“I am glad now that I have been arrested.”

And he demonstrated the sincerity of his statement by furnishing strong evidence against all the Anarchist leaders that he knew. He was kept in confinement until after the trial and then released by order of the State’s Attorney. He was forty years of age, a carpenter by occupation, and ever since his release he has attended to work and means to live until a good age to make amends for his past life.

The statement he gave me was as follows:

“I belong to the armed section of the International Carpenters’ group. Whenever we had a meeting, the armed section remained five minutes later. To my group belonged myself, my brother, William Hageman, who lives on Rees Street, over Lehman’s grocery store, also Hageman’s brother, who was boarding at the same place, Ernst Niendorf, on Groger Street, Waller, William Seliger, John Thielen and Louis Lingg, all of the North Side group; also Abraham Hermann, Lorenz Hermann, Ernst Hubner, Charley Bock and his brother, William Lange, Michael Schwab, Balthasar Rau, Rudolph Schnaubelt, Fischer and Huber. I attended a meeting, May 3, at 71 West Lake Street, at nine o’clock. I heard Louis Lingg speak there, also Schwab. I saw the circular there which called for revenge and to arms. Waller, or Zoller, opened the meeting as chairman. Lingg said at the meeting that they must arm themselves and attend the meeting at the Haymarket to get revenge for those workingmen who were killed at McCormick’s factory that day by the police. I also heard Schwab urge them to arm themselves and seek revenge on the police. I heard one man call out that all armed men present should go to Greif’s Hall, 54 West Lake Street, that a meeting would be held there in the basement. I went there, as also did my brother Gustav, the two Hagemans, Louis Lingg, Schnaubelt, Breitenfeld, John Thielen and Hubner. The meeting occurred at 54 West Lake Street. I was there during the whole session. My brother was on the outside watching. I heard the speaker say that there would be a meeting at the Haymarket and that they expected a big crowd there, which would give them a chance to use their arms. He also said that the police would no doubt come there to disperse them. If they refused to go, the police would shoot, and they would have a good chance to shoot at them. The speakers at that meeting would be Spies, Fielden and Parsons. The North Side armed group would meet at Neff’s Hall, 58 Clybourn Avenue, on Tuesday night, and they were to be ready with their arms and wait for orders. The Northwest Side group would also be ready and wait for orders. As soon as there was trouble at the Haymarket, they would be at Wicker Park ready for action. I heard the word ‘Ruhe’ spoken of at that meeting in the basement. If that word appeared in the paper—the Arbeiter-Zeitung—the next day, it would mean a revolution, and the attack on the police would be made that night. ‘Y, komme,’ was a sign published in the Arbeiter-Zeitung, meaning that there would be a meeting of the armed men. When I saw that revenge circular at No. 71 West Lake Street, it excited me very much and brought me to the meeting at 54 West Lake Street. I saw Adolph Fischer at that meeting. He made an address to us calling us to arms and urged that we should take revenge on the capitalists and the officers who had killed our brother workingmen on that day at McCormick’s. This man Fischer, whose picture has just been shown me by the Captain, is the person who said he would see that circulars were printed for the Haymarket meeting next day. The word ‘Ruhe’ was our signal word, adopted by the meeting that night at 54 West Lake Street, to attack the police. I heard some one say at the meeting that we should also attack the police station-houses and the police who might be within. They should make dynamite bombs and have them ready to throw into the stations. Lingg said: ‘I will have the dynamite and bombs ready to be used when called for.’ I did not hear of any one else saying or offering to furnish dynamite bombs. I was about fifteen feet away from Lingg when he made the remark. Then I left the meeting and the hall. The unanimous understanding among us all was that all who desired bombs must go to Lingg and get them. And we did not look to any one else for them. It was further stated at the meeting that, in case we should see a patrol wagon on the night of the attack, we should destroy the wagon, the horses and the officers, so that they could not render assistance to the officers at the Haymarket. On Tuesday evening, May 4, at nine o’clock, I went to Neff’s Hall, 58 Clybourn Avenue, and there I met both Hermanns, Rau, the Hagemans, Bock, Seliger and Lingg. Lingg gave me some of those long dynamite bombs and said: ‘Here, you take this and use it.’ He then started away. I heard that night—Tuesday—at eleven o’clock, at Ernst Grau’s saloon, that there had been some shooting that night, that a bomb had been thrown and that many were killed and wounded at the Haymarket. A tall man came into Neff’s Hall that night, May 4, at eleven o’clock, and told us about the shooting, the explosion of the bomb and the killing of the people. His clothes were all covered with mud, and he appeared greatly excited. He said: ‘You are having a good time here drinking beer. See how I look. I was over to the Haymarket and lost my revolvers.’ His name is August. He is the man—about thirty years of age, five feet ten inches tall, smooth face or a slight mustache, and is a bricklayer by occupation. [This was August Groge.] The dynamite bomb I had was made with a gas-pipe. My statement I will swear to at any time I am called upon.”

The bomb he speaks of was among those found by Officer Hoffman at No. 189 Hudson Avenue.

* * * * *

GUSTAV LEHMAN was arrested on the same day—May 20—with his brother Otto, only a little earlier in the morning. He was working as a carpenter, on a new building at the southwest corner of Sedgwick and Starr Streets, when Officers Schuettler and Hoffman accosted him, and his home at the time was at No. 41 Fremont Street, in the basement of a small building. He had a poor, sickly wife and six children. His wife,—who subsequently died in the County Hospital, in July, 1888,—when she was notified of his arrest, said:

“Well, I am very sorry for my dear husband, but now my words are coming true. He would take the last cent out of the house and run to meetings every night. Instead of leaving the money at home to buy clothing with for the children and medicine for myself, he would spend the last cent in saloons. At times when I heard him and others talk about capitalists, about an equal division of everything, I thought it all very foolish, and I would tell my husband so. The only answer he would give me was:

“‘Oh, you old women don’t know anything. You come to our meetings, and there you will be enlightened and learn how we are going to have things before long.’

“I often told him, ‘You will have things so that you all will be locked up and beg for mercy and be glad to go to work and let other people alone.’ One day he didn’t work; he wanted to go to a meeting on the West Side. I reasoned with him and asked him to stay at home. I was afraid they would all be arrested for their foolish undertakings. Gustav got mad at me and said:

“‘Now is our time or never. Before one month is over we will have things our own way. We have already got the capitalists, the militia and the police trembling in their boots. We are prepared, and, as soon as we strike the first blow, they will run away. Those that don’t run we will kill. We don’t expect to give them quarter.’”

The poor woman had clearly foreseen the outcome, and with rare judgment and fine instinct, in spite of her lowly station in life, she had sought early and late to instill into her husband’s mind some practical ideas of life. Within the limited lines of her observation she had grasped the problem of social existence, its struggles, its sufferings and its rewards, and she intuitively knew that such changes as her husband and others of his ilk desired could never be brought about by revolution in a free country. She loved her husband tenderly, and would have made any sacrifice for him. But he, rather than forego attendance at a single meeting, preferred that wife and children should suffer want. He kept his family in constant suspense and ranted like a madman.

Lehman was a man about forty-five years of age, weighed two hundred pounds, and, although he had only the use of one eye, he was a good mechanic.

When he was brought to the station he was asked his name.

“I don’t give any name,” he answered, somewhat indignantly.

“Why not?” asked I, in a pacific tone of voice.

“Because,” was the gruff answer, “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Oh, you don’t. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. We don’t find such a great man as you are every day. Officer, take this man to a safe place down stairs and leave him there until we want him again.”

“Well, you don’t scare me any,” thundered the burly Lehman.

“Well, now, we don’t want to scare you,” retorted I pleasantly, “but I thought you needed rest. You won’t feel so tired when you see us again. You will find more of your friends down stairs. If you talk to any one, you will be taken away from here and sent to the Desplaines Street Station.”

At the last remark Lehman winced perceptibly. The name of the Desplaines Street Station grated harshly on his ear, and he evidently felt that I had some surprise in store for him. He could have lightly passed by any other thrusts, but this nettled him. It was made for a purpose. I knew that all Anarchists had an intense hatred for that station, and greater than their hatred of the place was their anger against Bonfield, who had charge of it. They would rather suffer torments anywhere else than be cast into a cell in that place.

But Lehman shortly recovered his equanimity, and, assuming a stolid indifference to his surroundings, remarked:

“If you think you can make me ‘squeal,’ you are badly mistaken.”

“Oh, no; we don’t want you to ‘squeal,’” said I. “We are rather afraid you will beg to be allowed to come here and sit on your knees to tell us all you know about making bombs and dynamite—all about your meetings—how often you have presided at meetings and how much dynamite you got from Lingg; and to tell us all about your brother, and where your son is hiding now, and where you placed the bombs that you carried around in your pocket on May 4; how bad a headache you had after filling the bombs with dynamite at Seliger’s house. You see, August, we simply want to call your attention to all these little things—that’s all.”

This charge proved a little too strong for the doughty Lehman. He had kept up his courage well, but the rapidity of the assault, the dark secrets hinted at and the insinuations made had taxed his powers of resistance almost beyond endurance. His facial muscles twitched, and for a moment he wrestled with himself. He asked for a glass of water, and, quaffing its contents to the last drop, he rallied and straightened himself as if determined to hold out in spite of his nerves. Recovering his breath and struggling with his emotions, he said:

“If you have the power to hang me, do so. I have belonged to the cause so long that I will die before I reveal anything.”

That was sufficient. Lehman was taken down stairs and locked up. The very next morning he sent the janitor to my office with a request to see me. I told the janitor that I was very busy and could not be interrupted unless Lehman had something very important to communicate. To this Lehman replied that he had discovered that there were other men locked up down stairs, and he was satisfied that if they had a chance they would “squeal.” Would I accord him an interview? He was brought up, and, in the presence of Assistant State’s Attorney Furthmann and the officers, proceeded to unfold a very remarkable tale. He began very cautiously, evidently following the instructions laid down in John Most’s book for Anarchists in trouble, but, as the questions were plied upon him, he soon discovered that he was in a very “tight box.” He finally asked if there was any prospect of his being hung. He was informed that he must tell all he knew, and all must be true; that we did not want him to try to lie himself out of his trouble or tell a falsehood against an innocent man. Probably he would be called on to testify in court, and, of course, if he was a witness for the State, he would not be hanged.

“I do trust you men,” he said, and revealed all the secrets that he knew, without reserve as to his own deeds and the experiences he had had with the other Anarchists. His statement gave the officers important points.

After the trial, Lehman declared he had no more use for Anarchy. He became a good husband and a kind father. In 1889 he married again, and, strange to say, Officer Nordrum acted as “best man” at the ceremony. The nature of Gustav’s testimony appears in the evidence he gave at the trial.

ABRAHAM HERMANN was a man of different temperament; but, after his arrest, he showed a somewhat similar disposition as to secretiveness and stubbornness. He was arrested on the evening of May 10 at eight o’clock. He lived at No. 25 Clybourn Avenue. He was about thirty-four years of age, medium build, and weighed about 185 pounds. He was of dark complexion, wore a full black beard, had sharp, piercing eyes, and from thinking much on Anarchy, had come to present a sickly appearance. He did not look at all vicious, however, and was very quiet in his manner. He was a good machinist and fully conversant with the German language. In conversation he was slow and deliberate, evidently thinking twice before speaking.

At the time Abraham was taken in charge, his brother Lorenz was also arrested. Abraham’s house had been searched a week before, and two rifles had been found and taken to the station. When the officers met the brothers, they were told to come to the station to identify their property, and when they set foot inside my office they were notified that they were under arrest. They manifested no surprise. Abraham was asked if he had anything to say. He wanted to know what about, and when informed that we wanted information about Anarchy, he slowly replied that he “did not know any Anarchists.”

“You can probably tell us something about how to drill Anarchists and how much profit you made on the rifles, or the 44-caliber Remington revolvers; or perhaps tell us how many men you had in your command on the night of the 4th of May around this station, and tell us about the trouble you had with Lingg in Neff’s Hall at eleven o’clock, May 4th, after the explosion of the bomb at the Haymarket.”

I could have put a few more queries, but I stopped to watch the effect. Abraham’s eyes bulged out for a moment in surprise, but not a word did he have to say. He was at once locked up, and for nearly three days betrayed no signs of weakening. On the third day he showed a little anxiety and expressed a desire to see me. He was brought up, but, getting into a comfortable room, where the light of day made all surroundings cheerful, he became rather buoyant and seemed loth to depress the spirits of others by unfolding harrowing tales of Anarchistic plots. I tried to engage him in conversation, but the answers came in monosyllables and with a sort of guttural emphasis. The situation was becoming very tiresome. I thought Abraham had suddenly been seized with the lockjaw, but determined to fathom the man’s mind. I urged him not to be guided by Most’s book,—we understood that,—but to speak out if he had any information to give. If he had nothing to impart, to say so. He promptly saw that the situation was growing critical, and that, if he still refrained from speaking, possibly his last chance for saving himself might be gone. He relaxed the muscles of his face, opened his lips and prepared to talk. It was a great effort, but he evidently realized that something must be done.

“Well,” he finally drawled out, “I don’t know what to tell you. It seems to me you people know about everything and have things down as correctly as I can give them to you. And you know all about me, too. I say this for myself: I don’t know anything about the laws of the country. I have been told by people that ought to know better, that for what we were doing there was no law. I now see my mistake.”

Hermann then gave information on himself and others, and stated that he had never liked Lingg. Lingg, he remarked, was the most rabid Anarchist he had ever seen, and he almost believed that the man had a dynamite bomb in his head. He himself had never had anything to say in favor of the use of dynamite. He was a military man, and believed in the use of rifles. He had held that all the Anarchists should be well drilled and that no man should carry arms unless he knew how to use them. He was opposed to throwing stones or fighting in the streets. He believed in swords and good riflemen, and he was one of that class. His idea was never to undertake anything until fully prepared, and when they were prepared to let their work show the result.

During the interview he was very cautious in his statements, but he did not spare the leaders. At the same time he would not implicate any one of no special consequence in the order. His statement, however, was as sweeping as it was surprising. He was implicitly believed by the officers, as candor and earnestness were manifest in his disclosures.

Hermann was indicted by the grand jury, but after he had been in custody for awhile he was released by order of the State’s Attorney. At the beginning of the trial he was brought in again and confined until its termination. He was then given his liberty. He has since become an industrious man, and has only had two or three relapses by attending some of the open, public meetings. He now declares, however, that he is through with Anarchy.

What he had to say to Assistant State’s Attorney Furthmann, myself and the officers was this:

“I have belonged to the North Side armed group since 1883. The members of the group are as follows: Schwab, Rau, Huber, Neebe, the two Lehmans, Thielen, Lingg, Hubner, Seliger, Lange, Schnaubelt, Lorenz Hermann, Abraham Hermann, the two Hagemans, Heyman, Niendorf and Charley Bock. We were about forty men strong on the North Side. I do not know anything about the word ‘Ruhe.’ On Monday, May 3, at 9 P.M., I attended a meeting of the metal-workers at Seamen’s Hall, on Randolph, near Jefferson Street. I saw August Spies. He was passing and handing out some of the circulars that called for revenge upon the law and the police. Spies was at the meeting when I got there, and he had a handful of those circulars. I saw Spies busying himself around the meeting talking to the people. The secretary of this meeting was a man named Hahneman. Lange was president. I belong to the North Side branch of the same union. But this was a general meeting. I only knew a few of the members present. The president of the meeting works for a firm on Wabash Avenue—a brass-finisher named Andrew or Andre. When I left this meeting at ten o’clock I went to 54 West Lake Street. As I came into the saloon some one said that there was a meeting down stairs. I went down. Waller was president of that meeting. I also saw Fischer there. I know Schnaubelt. He was there. When the question came up about printing the circulars for the Haymarket meeting, Fischer said that he would see to it. Some one suggested that letters should be sent to the armed people or members in surrounding cities near Chicago, asking them to attend to the police and militia there, so that they could not come to the assistance of the officers or police of this city. On my opposition the proposition was dropped. I saw Hubner and Lingg at that meeting. As I came in some one said, ‘Lingg is going to attend to that.’ I understood it to mean furnishing the dynamite bombs. I saw the meeting was intended for mischief, and I left the place. At a meeting May 4, at 8:30 P.M., in the hall in the rear of Neff’s saloon, 58 Clybourn Avenue, I heard that the plan of operation decided upon was the same as given to the armed men at 54 West Lake Street. So far as I remember the plan, it was something like this: Some of the armed men were to go to the police stations, and, if the police were called out, to throw dynamite bombs among them, set the houses on fire and keep the police on the North Side. As far as I know, the Northwest Side group had a similar plan. Lingg was not there at this time. All members present were anxious to see him come, waiting for bombs. I was in the hall about an hour. I went back again the same evening—May 4—about eleven o’clock. The first I heard of any trouble was about 10:30. A man whose name is Anton Hirschberger came into the saloon and told us that there had been a riot at the Haymarket. At the same time a tall man came in and said he had been at the riot, that a lot of bullets flew around them, a bomb had exploded, and that either some one had stolen his revolver or he had lost it. Then Neff said he was going to close up his place, the hour being eleven o’clock. On Wednesday, May 5, I met Lingg and Seliger at that place. I was surprised at meeting Lingg there, because I thought then that he ought to have been locked up. Lingg spoke to me and said, ‘You are nice cowards.’ I replied that he had better keep his mouth shut, as he was the cause of the whole affair. Hubner and I were there to attend a meeting of our people to be held on the quiet in Lincoln Park. We were to meet at the park because we expected it would not be safe to hold it anywhere else. What led me to think that Lingg ought to have been locked up was because he was always advocating the use of dynamite and bombs. That a bomb had been thrown was a fact, and I thought Lingg ought to have been arrested for it.”

On May 31, Hermann made another statement, as follows:

“I know August Spies. He is the editor of the Arbeiter-Zeitung of this city. I knew him to write several articles on revolution. I was elected as an agent at a general meeting to procure and sell arms. This was in October last—1885. Balthasar Rau was chairman of that meeting. We had several men as a committee. They were called the Bureau of Information. It was composed of Parsons, from the English section; Charles Bock, German, also assistant secretary to Rau; Hirschberger, French, and Mikolanda, Bohemian. Every Anarchist looked to that bureau for information. I used to get my guns from New York, from a man named Seeger. He lives on Third Avenue.

He was the middleman between me and the factory where the arms were made. I got twenty-five revolvers last February. They were shipped direct to me at No. 25 Clybourn Avenue. I sold them all at cost price to members. That was $6.50. The last two revolvers I sold May 3, 1886—one to a man named Asher, and the other to August, a bricklayer. Before that I sold one revolver to Schnaubelt, one to Lingg and one to Seliger. It was Schnaubelt who proposed at the meeting held at 54 West Lake Street, May 3, to notify outside cities, but I told him it was all nonsense. About two weeks before this meeting I met Breitenfeld in a saloon, and said that I had often heard this letter ‘Y,’ and I was bound to find out its meaning when it appeared in the Arbeiter-Zeitung. Breitenfeld said that it meant a meeting of the armed men, and told me to wait and he would get me into the meeting. I waited for a long time—about an hour. Then he came out, and I was admitted with him. I was in the meeting with him for an hour, and then it adjourned. I have known Lingg for six months. At the meeting at 54 West Lake Street on the evening of May 3, it was supposed then that the police would interfere at the Haymarket, and then there would be a chance for a riot. Four members of the North Side group were detailed at that meeting as spies. If the riot should be a failure and we should get beaten by the police, our gathering-places after that would be at Center Park, Humboldt Park, St. Michael’s Church, Lincoln Park and Wicker Park. The signal of attack after the riot had commenced was to be an illumination of the heavens by red fires. Some one asked for dynamite, and he was answered that Lingg would furnish the stuff. The different spies detailed at that meeting were to hold a meeting the next day, each division for itself, and afterwards in a body at Zepf’s Hall, to perfect all arrangements for the riot. I accused Lingg of making dynamite bombs, and told him that if any trouble grew out of it, it would be on his account. He called me a coward. I knew that Lingg was in trouble in Philadelphia shortly before he left there.”

LORENZ HERMANN was twenty-six years of age, of slim build, with a very sallow face, and apparently a consumptive. His occupation was that of a brass-molder, and he was a good workman. On his arrival at the station he expressed great surprise at the impudence of the officers in compelling him to come against his will. He was asked his name, and he gave it. When requested to spell it, he said he did not know how; all he knew was that it was Lorenz Hermann. Being questioned with reference to Anarchy, he replied that he did not know anything about it, and when accused of having taken part in the revolutionary plot, he said he had not taken as great a part in it as his brother had. He soon discovered that the police had a great deal of information about his brother, and then he changed his tactics by trying to smooth things over for Abraham.

“My brother,” he said, “is married and has a family. I am single. I want to see my brother out of this trouble; no matter about me.”

“Well, then,” I interposed, “why not tell us something?”

“Me?” asked Lorenz. “I don’t know anything to tell.”

He had evidently changed his mind on the spur of the moment, and he grew exceedingly reticent.

“Well,” said I, “I will tell you something then. I will call your attention to May 4, between the hours of 8:30 and 10:30 P.M. You were around this station with about nineteen other men, and among them was your brother. You were to throw bombs into the patrol wagon in case the police were called out to go to the West Side to assist the police at the Haymarket, but you remained a little too long in a saloon on Clark Street. When you came out and reached the corner of Superior Street and La Salle Avenue, you saw three patrol wagons loaded with police going south on LaSalle Avenue, but you were not near enough to throw a bomb. This made you very angry. Then some of you went to Moody’s church and remained there for some time. When you finally saw so many policemen coming to the station you all got scared and went to the hall at 58 Clybourn Avenue. Oh, by the way, which route did you take on leaving the station? Did you go to the Haymarket or to Neff’s Hall?”

“I was at the Haymarket,” replied Lorenz.

“Is it not true—all that I told you about the station?”

“Yes, that is true,” responded Lorenz. “Some one told me about it.”

“Who told you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You lie,” said I. “You must tell us who; that is the man we are after.”

Seeing that he was gradually being cornered by his evasive replies, he put on a bold front to the whole matter and answered:

“Well, I was there myself. I did not stay very long, and from there I went to the Haymarket. I think Hageman and I went together.”

Further questioning only brought out sullen responses, with very meager information, but, after being allowed to think the matter over, he finally concluded to make a clean breast of it. He was kept busy with explanations for some time, and he gave me some very pointed information. He was indicted by the grand jury and afterwards released by order of the State’s Attorney. Lorenz has never been heard of since, but it is supposed he is now leading a quiet life and proving himself a better man.

His statement, among other things corroborative of what others had divulged, contains the following:

“At a meeting held at 58 Clybourn Avenue, I heard Engel say that if they wanted to make bombs they could find plenty of gas-pipe on the West Side, in the city yards, near the Chicago Avenue bridge, and then if they wanted to learn how to make them they could come to him. All that was necessary was to cut the pipes up into lengths of six or eight inches, fill them with dynamite and put a wooden plug at each end. He had with him at the time his daughter, who was about fifteen or sixteen years of age. I saw Hirschberger, Hageman and Charles Bock at eleven o’clock on the evening of Tuesday, May 4, in Neff’s place, at 58 Clybourn Avenue. Hirschberger told those present about the riot on the West Side. I was at the Haymarket meeting in the company of Hageman, the carpenter. Two men stood close together near me, and they looked suspicious. I was there at the time the police came up. I got frightened and ran away. I ran without stopping till I reached Neff’s place, on the North Side. I found my brother there, and I told him about the throwing of the bomb, its explosion and what happened. I did not want to get mixed up in the affair, and that is the reason I declined to speak at first. I belonged to the armed men of the North Side. The revolvers and guns my brother sold he got from a factory in New York. He sold about twelve guns to the Socialists. He sold a box full of revolvers, about twenty in a box, for $6.90 a piece. For seven months my brother acted as agent, under appointment, to procure and sell guns and revolvers.”

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