by Ginny Dye
“Stop!” Abby cried. She looked around frantically for an escape route. She knew that once this mob was out of control, a well-dressed lady of obvious financial means could easily become one of their targets.
Just then a burly policeman stepped onto the porch of the draft office. “All right, boys!” he yelled. “You’ve done your work. All the equipment has been destroyed. There won’t be any more draft calling today.” He spread his hands in appeal. “Won’t you put out the fire now? There are innocent women and children in the houses attached to this building. You don’t want them to be hurt. They haven’t done anything to you.”
Abby’s heart rose hopefully. Maybe it was still possible to restore order to the chaos. Her hope plummeted as part of the mob rushed forward and clubbed the officer foolish enough to confront them. She gasped as one of his fellow officers rushed to his aid and was also clubbed to the ground.
The sight of the beating sparked the mob’s appetite for violence. With a howl they surged forward. Sounds of smashing doors and tinkling glass sounded above the din as people broke into the burning houses. Soon furniture and clothing were being tossed out into the streets, swept up by the looting crowds.
“There isn’t any way to get around this!” Paxton yelled, pulling at Abby’s arm. “We’ve got to get out of here. Come on. On foot is our only hope.”
Abby hesitated then stepped down. Paxton was right. “I’m sorry for getting you into this!” she yelled. “I should have listened.”
“I should never have brought you here!” Paxton yelled back, holding her hand and pushing his way through the crowd.
It was fairly easy to weave their way to the back of the crowd. Everyone’s attention seemed to be on the violence and looting in front of them. Several people cursed and shoved back, but no one tried to stop them. Abby looked back as they finally broke free into an open space. From both directions she could see crowds of people running to join the mob.
“We’ve got a full scale riot on our hands,” Paxton yelled. “I’ve got to get you somewhere safe.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine,” Paxton insisted. “They aren’t after me.”
“But surely they’re not after me, either,” Aunt Abby battled the fear churning in her stomach.
“Right now they’re just a bunch of people out of control,” Paxton explained. “They’re going to go after what’s different from them. One look at you, and they’ll know you don’t belong.” He grabbed Abby’s arm and began to pull her down the street away from the mob.
“Take me to Dr. Benson’s house.” Abby stopped abruptly and pulled out her map.
“Not a chance,” Paxton snapped, pulling at her again.
Abby forced herself to remain calm. “We have come too far for me to walk back through that crowd. I know no one else down here.” She held up the map. “We’re just a few streets away. It will only take a few minutes. They’re expecting me.”
“Are you crazy?” Paxton said through clenched teeth, obviously making an effort to remain professional. “That’s right in the middle of a black area. That’s the first place that mob will go.”
“The police are sure to have it under control by then,” Abby protested. “Besides, do you have somewhere else I can go? I can’t just roam around the streets.” She hated that she had gotten them in this situation, but now that they were she was obviously going to have to take control.
“You’re right,” Paxton groaned in frustration. “Why did I ever bring you down here?”
Just then there was another wild yell from the mob. A large piece of it broke away and began to surge in their direction. Breaking glass and shouts accompanied their movement.
“Let’s get out of here,” Paxton yelled. “Where’s that map?” He glanced at it wildly then began to pull Abby down the street.
Abby’s heart pounded with fear, but her head was clear. She looked back over her shoulder as Paxton pulled her down the road. She could see several men cutting down telegraph poles. She understood instantly they were trying to break communication with the outside to keep the police away.
Just then Abby heard the rattle of wheels and the tramping of feet. She hesitated and looked down the side street they were passing. “The police!” she yelled in relief, plowing to a halt. “Look, Paxton. The police are coming.”
Paxton scowled. “There aren’t enough of them to stop that mob,” he insisted. “I’ve got to get you to your friend’s house.”
Abby studied the contingent of police marching toward them and realized Paxton was right. She hurried on, looking over her shoulder. She had managed to cover a couple of blocks before a cry rent the air. She spun around stunned by what sounded like a wild animal in horrible pain. It hung on the air for a moment then swelled through the streets, luring more people to join in the madness.
The police rounded the corner and advanced on the rampaging crowd. With another cry, a flurry of paving stones rained down on the policemen. Abby heard a few shots, but the crowd was upon the men before they could form a defense. She watched in horror as several of the uniformed men crumpled to the ground then were swallowed by the crowd. Seconds later she could see the rest of the policemen break and run. The mob, strengthened by its violent victory, surged on.
“Come on, Mrs. Stratford,” Paxton cried, tugging her hand.
Abby swallowed the bile forcing its way up her throat and blinked back her tears. She could only pray Michael hadn’t been in that group. Picking up her skirts, she ran after Paxton.
Minutes later Paxton pounded at the door of a simple, well-kept three-story house. “Let us in!” he cried.
The door flung back instantly. A well-dressed black man stood staring at Abby in amazement. “Mrs. Stratford! Whatever is the matter?”
“I’m so sorry to burst in on you like this, Dr. Benson,” Abby began.
Just then another roar floated toward them. Paxton pushed Abby in the door. “I’m sorry, Dr. Benson. There isn’t time for talk. There’s a full scale riot that has erupted. Keep Mrs. Stratford safe!” He turned to Abby. “I’ll be back for you when this is all over.” Then he spun and sprinted down the road.
Dr. Benson slammed the door shut and turned to the group of people in the room staring at him in wide-eyed fear. “It’s started,” he said grimly. “Everyone, upstairs.” Without a word, they rose to obey him.
Abby watched as a very attractive woman picked up the youngest child, who appeared to be under a year old, then ushered the other seven children up the stairs. She paused long enough to give Abby a gentle smile, then tightened her lips, and hurried after her family.
Dr. Benson glanced down at Abby. “We’ve been expecting trouble for some time. We could feel it growing in the air all summer.” He paused and walked back to gaze out the window. “Where did it start?”
“Down at the draft office. I was foolish enough to insist the Livingstons’ driver take me there even though he was obviously afraid.” Abby was angry at herself. “Once again my impulsiveness has gotten me into trouble.”
“More trouble than you might realize,” Dr. Benson agreed gravely. “I wish he had taken you somewhere else though I do realize he would have if there had been other options.”
“Surely the mob won’t attack the houses of innocent people,” Abby protested, watching over Dr. Benson’s shoulder for the crowd to appear.
“You’re in the black section of town, Mrs. Stratford. That’s all it takes to be guilty in their eyes. However wrong they may be, that mob believes their troubles are caused by black people. They don’t have enough insight to look inward and take responsibility for their problems. They have to find someone to blame. The next step naturally is for them to take their rage out on blacks,” Dr. Benson said bitterly. “It’s really quite simple. I wish I could say it’s something we get accustomed to, but I’m afraid we never do.”
Just then a black man sprinted around the corner and raced down the street with his head tucked low. Seconds later a
group of white men followed chasing madly after him and gained on him.
Abby watched in horrified, helpless silence as the white mob slowly bridged the gap. “Run!” she cried. Suddenly she realized the black man was limping. Obviously he already had been hurt. There was no way he could escape them. Abby grabbed her throat as the mob fell on the fleeing black man. Dr. Benson turned her away roughly but not before she heard the tortured cry of the captured man.
“Go upstairs,” he said gruffly. “I’m sorry you have to be here to see this, but I’m afraid there is no way to get you out until it’s over. You will find Elsie and the children in the back room to the right.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Fighting to see through her tears, Abby climbed the stairs slowly and glanced over her shoulder once to see Dr. Benson staring out the window with a face of stone. She stumbled down the dark hallway to the right. Elsie appeared in front of her and guided her into a room with a single, small window.
“I’m so sorry you are here at such an awful time, Mrs. Stratton,” Elsie said, her voice gentle and refined.
Abby grasped her hand firmly as she gazed around the room at the frightened children. They stared at her silently, their eyes wide and white in their dark faces.
“These are my children,” Elsie said. “The youngest is ten months. My oldest, Stephen, is seventeen.” She took a deep breath. “He went out to run some errands for me earlier. He isn’t back yet.”
Abby stared at her. “I’m so sorry,” she finally said. She imagined how she would feel if one of her children was out in that violence. Suddenly she noticed a form in the bed tucked against the wall.
Elsie followed her gaze and stepped aside to allow Abby to move forward. “This is Shelby,” she said tenderly. “She was very sick with typhoid last winter. I’m afraid it left her very weak.”
Abby smiled down at the young girl grinning up at her. “Hello, Shelby.”
“Hello. You must be Mrs. Stratton. My mother told me you were coming. It’s so very nice of you to come visit us.”
Abby stared at her in amazement. “And it’s so nice to meet you,” she said graciously.
Elsie interpreted her look. “My little Shelby has absolutely no fear. She was quite certain she would die last year. When she didn’t, she informed us she would never be afraid of anything again. She figures that when it’s her time to go, she will. She says until then nothing will happen that God isn’t in control of.”
“It’s true,” Shelby said earnestly. “You don’t need to be afraid, Mrs. Stratton. God is taking care of us.”
“How old are you?” Abby asked, bemused.
“I’m eleven,” Shelby said proudly. “But don’t let my age bother you. My daddy says it shouldn’t.”
Abby felt strangely comforted by the young girl’s courage. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, turning away to walk to the window.
“Mommy won’t let us look out the window,” one handsome boy about six called out.
“That’s Reuben,” Elsie said. “I won’t let them look out the window because there is no need to see what is happening out there.” Her gaze swept the room, her voice firm.
Abby totally agreed. Violence was a sad reality of their young lives, but what good would it do to let them watch it explode right before their young eyes? Yet she also felt the need to know what was going on. Even though it might be horrible, it was better than being stuck away with no clue of what was happening. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she murmured.
Dr. Benson stood at the exact spot she had left him. He made no comment about her return, just nodded, and moved aside to make room for her. Abby whitened when she looked out. The streets were full of angry looking people. “There are women and children out there!” she exclaimed.
“I’m afraid passion and the mob mentality is not just limited to men,” Dr. Benson replied. “Men are not the only ones who throw reason to the wind so that hatred may rule.”
Abby turned back to watch. “Where are the police?” she murmured, remembering their aborted attempt to regain control earlier.
“I’m afraid it will take more than the police to stop this,” Dr. Benson replied heavily. “It will take the militia to break up this mob. I’m quite sure we’re seeing just a small part of what’s going on in this city. The bomb has been building for quite some time. It was just waiting for something to light the fuse.”
“But the militia was called away to fight at Gettysburg,” Abby protested. “They aren’t back in the city yet.”
“I know.”
Abby shuddered as the implications of what he was saying sunk in. “What will stop it?” she finally asked, almost afraid to voice the question.
Dr. Benson shrugged. “Oh, they’ll bring it under control sooner or later. The government won’t allow New York to be destroyed by a riot. The question is - how many people’s lives will be destroyed before it does anything?” He turned back to the window. “My son is out there.”
“Your wife told me. I’m so sorry.”
“If Stephen realizes there is trouble, he may hide out.” Then he scowled. “There is also the chance he will try to make it home to help protect us here. That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“It’s a good thing I’m sneaky,” a strong, young voice announced from behind them.
Abby spun around just in time to see Dr. Benson embrace his oldest son, a good-looking lad already a head taller than his father.
“Stephen!” Dr. Benson made no effort to cover his fear and worry. “How did you get home?”
“Over the rooftops,” Stephen said cheerfully, his eyes wise beyond his years. “You and Mother used to fuss at me for playing up there, but at least I know my way around.” He grabbed his father’s hand. “We’ll have to take the family out that way.”
“That mob is not running me from my house,” Dr. Benson said angrily. “I have worked too hard for what we have.” Then he paused. “Did you see much of what’s going on?”
“Too much,” Stephen replied, all the cheer gone from his voice. He sounded old and tired. “They’re attacking every black man they see. I barely got away from a group coming after me.” His voice choked. “They destroyed the Orphan Asylum.”
Abby gasped. “The Colored Orphan Asylum?” Her voice shook with anger. She had contributed toward that home for black children.
“Yes, ma’am.” For the first time, Stephen seemed to notice her presence. “You must be Mrs. Stratton. I was sent out to bring home some groceries for your lunch. I’m sorry. I’m afraid I wasn’t able to complete my errand.”
Dr. Benson shook his head impatiently. “What did they do to the Asylum?”
Stephen’s face tightened. “A whole mob gathered around there. I watched from a nearby rooftop. They got all the children out, though.”
Abby breathed a sigh of relief. Over two hundred children, all under the age of twelve, lived in that building.
“The rioters were yelling things like ‘Burn the niggers’ nest’ and ‘Down with the niggers’,” Stephen continued bitterly. “Anyway, I think officials took the kids down to one of the police precincts.” He shook his head. “They barely had the last kid out the back when the mob broke down the front door. Men were smashing pianos and carrying off everything they could get their hands on. And I mean everything. Carpets, chairs, dishes – why, they even took away all the beds.”
Dr. Benson clinched his fists angrily. “It took years to set that place up,” he cried.
Stephen wasn’t finished. “Once they had everything out, they set fire to the place.” He brushed away his tears. “There were some firemen who tried to stop it, but the mob beat them away. I could hear one of the firemen telling the crowd they didn’t want to hurt humanity by destroying a benevolent institution.”
“And no one listened?” Abby asked angrily.
Stephen shrugged. “Some more firemen tried to put it out. The mob cut their hoses and broke up the hydrants. They finally had to give it up. The whole place
was in flames when I finally left.”
He walked closer to his father. “I know how you feel about leaving here, but we’ve got to get out.” He hesitated, glancing at Abby. “It’s bad out there. They’re attacking anyone they can find. It won’t be long before they get here. Those crowds out there now are just people trying to get in on the excitement. Once the real mob gets here they’re going to follow their example.” His voice tightened in anger.
Dr. Benson shook his head stubbornly. “If I ran away every time a white person tried to hurt me, I’d never have gotten where I am today.” He glanced at Abby. “I also realize I owe much of where I am to white people who have helped me.”
Abby stared at him compassionately, understanding the battle in his heart. Then a clear vision of his family huddled in the upstairs room rose in her mind. “I learned a difficult lesson today,” she said. “I thought insisting on coming down here in spite of Paxton’s warnings was courage. A friend told me once that courage was a mixture of bravery and wisdom. I’m afraid I threw all wisdom out the window. What I showed today was plain obstinacy. And now I’m paying the price.”
Dr. Benson was not persuaded. “I’m afraid I will have to learn my own lessons. I am not leaving my home.”
“Learning your lesson may put your family at risk,” Abby said firmly. She realized she had no right to try to convince this man of anything, but she couldn’t simply sit and watch his family be harmed. Shelby’s trusting eyes upstairs prodded her to push on.
Dr. Benson’s face tightened with anger.
Stephen stepped forward. “Listen to her, Dad. She’s right. You haven’t seen it out there.” Suddenly his voice was scared and young.
Dr. Benson stared at his son and then slowly nodded. “We’ll scope out your escape route. We’ll get your mother and the other children to safety.” Then his voice firmed. “But I’m not leaving this house until I have to. I’m not simply walking away from everything I’ve worked so hard for.”
