Anderson answered, “Lawrence or hell,” and did so, according to Younger, with fire “flashing in his eyes as he recalled the recent wreck from which his sisters had been taken in Kansas City.” Anderson added that he had but “one proviso, that we kill every male thing.” Up to this point, when Anderson and his men were involved in any attacks, they generally were ruthless, killing more victims than most. But after his sisters were killed and maimed in the building collapse, everyone agreed that he came completely unhinged, and from that point until the end of his short life months later, killing others was no longer a means to an end, but a means in and of itself. Some of his companions reported that he would literally foam at the mouth when he anticipated a killing spree.
After Anderson made his reply, Quantrill went around the room and asked his lieutenants to vote on the proposal to attack Lawrence. After he had queried everyone, he asked if all had voted; no one spoke, so Quantrill said, “Lawrence it is; saddle up.”268 During the vote tally, everyone agreed on Lawrence as the target, and that killing as many men as possible was the goal. Younger’s brother-in-law, John Jarrett, added that it would be great if they could burn everything to ground as well. Cole Younger and John McCorkle were in agreement that if the venture accomplished nothing else, killing Jim Lane would make everything worthwhile.
On the evening of August 20, 1863, many of the citizens of Lawrence came to the Eldridge House hotel to listen to a Mr. Winchell discuss the potential for the Union Pacific Eastern Division railroad coming to their town. H. E. Lowman, editor and proprietor of the Lawrence State Journal, reported the meeting several months later. He wrote that the meeting ran until about 10:30 p.m. He and his colleagues stayed after the meeting and talked until about midnight. “When we reached the street and were bending our steps homeward,” he reported, “a most strange and inexpressible sense of impending danger came over us…. When we reached home we found it impossible to shake off the singular impression that some unseen catastrophe was at hand.” He continued, “Quantrell [sic] had decided to destroy Lawrence…. That was well authenticated…. There was evidence enough … that he would be most likely to strike when the people were the least watchful and the most certain of their safety…. When the first gun was fired and the first unearthly chorus of yells startled the air at the opening of the terrible slaughter which will make the 21st of August, 1863, forever memorable in the annals of Kansas, we were aroused and knew without a moment’s hesitation what the tumult meant.”269
14 Lawrence or Hell
QUANTRILL AND HIS BUSHWHACKERS MOVED very quickly from plan to action. John McCorkle reported 150 guerrillas in the raiding party; Cole Younger counted 310, which was probably closer to the actual number. The logistics of traveling through Kansas with so many men, and without a major confrontation with Union troops, was a major feat. As Quantrill prepared for the attack, he sent a contingent of fifteen men south as a diversion, hoping to draw attention away from the main objective.
As Quantrill guerrillas started heading west, fifty additional guerrillas, who heard the news of Quantrill’s mission, joined the party. The expanded group bumped into Confederate Colonel John Holt, who was leading one hundred recruits to join the Confederate Army further south. Holt thought it would be good for his recruits to have a baptism of fire, and joined Quantrill. That brought the number of soldiers and bushwhackers to somewhere between 400 and 450.
Quantrill chose to travel overland, away from any normally traveled routes. They left on the evening of August 20 and screened their movements with outriders. A Union scout saw and reported the guerrillas to his commander, Captain J. A. Pike, at about 7:00 in the evening. Pike reported the sighting to other border commanders, but he made no effort to attack Quantrill, nor did he warn any of the Union outposts or towns further west.
Quantrill and his men continued on their journey through the dark. They passed through several tiny communities, and in one—Gardner—they encountered Union soldiers who asked their business. They reported that they were a Union cavalry unit, headed to Lawrence to have their horses shod. According to Albert Castel, whose account of Quantrill and his guerrillas is highly regarded by historians, the bushwhackers were able to fool the Union soldiers because they wore blue uniforms on this and other raids.270 According to most reports, the night was pitch-dark. To make sure they were headed in the right direction, each time they encountered someone, they forced the hapless individual to guide them, and in most cases, when that person’s services were no longer needed, the raiders shot him. One of their guides was a young boy, whom Quantrill released when he had guided them part of the way.271
At about 5:00 on the morning of August 21, Quantrill and his men reached Lawrence. About two miles out of town, they came to the farm of the Reverend S. S. Snyder, the minister of the United Brethren Church in Lawrence. He was an early riser and was milking his cow. Two of the bushwhackers rode into his yard and killed him. Rev. Cordley speculated that Rev. Snyder was singled out because he had volunteered to serve as a lieutenant of colored troops. Rev. Snyder was the first casualty. Riding about a mile further, the guerrillas met Hoffman Collamore, the sixteen-year-old son of the mayor. Young Collamore was out riding, carrying a shotgun to go hunting. He did not think anything of the men, since many were wearing blue, but when they started shooting at him, he took off on his horse and nearly escaped, but he and his horse were hit. He had the sense to lie still as if he were dead, and the guerrillas left him alone. He was lucky and recovered.
Another individual with luck on his side was Joseph Savage, one of the earliest settlers in Lawrence, who arrived with the second Emigrant Aid Company party in 1854. Savage’s eyesight was failing him, and part of his morning ritual was to wash his eyes. He heard horses outside, but with his poor eyesight, he thought they were Union troops. Two of Quantrill’s men knocked on his door, but he was not ready to receive anyone quite yet, and when he finally opened the door, the bushwhackers were leaving his yard.272 The next group of people Quantrill’s men encountered was not as fortunate.
From the scouting report of Fletcher Taylor, Quantrill knew that the garrison of Union soldiers was stationed just outside of the main part of town. This camp was the first target. Many of the soldiers there during Taylor’s visit were transferred elsewhere, replaced by new recruits. Among them were African American men preparing to join one of the black regiments. Since it was dawn, the sentries had left their posts. So without any warning, and since nearly all the soldiers were sound asleep, the attack was a complete surprise. When the bushwhackers rushed the camp, the soldiers had no chance to find or load their weapons. Seventeen were killed, and the rest scattered. After giving chase for a short distance, the guerrillas turned their attention to the town.273
Their first stop was the Eldridge Hotel, the most prominent building in town, built on the site of the Free State Hotel that had been destroyed by Border Ruffians several years earlier. A curious thing happened when Quantrill and his men rode up to the hotel. Captain A. R. Banks, provost marshal for Kansas, waved a white flag from a window, surrendering the hotel. He then came down to meet with Quantrill and asked for permission to escort the guests from the hotel to safety. Quantrill agreed, and the guests were escorted to the nearby City (some referred to it as the Whitney House) Hotel, where they were promised safety if they stayed there. Quantrill, as Charley Hart, was a guest in the hotel when he lived in Lawrence. He felt he had been treated well and promised the owner that if he, his guests, and the Eldridge guests stayed put, they would be safe. He placed the City Hotel off limits, ordering his men not to touch the hotel or anyone inside. The fate of the Eldridge Hotel was different. Quantrill allowed his men to ransack the hotel, carrying away everything of value. Quantrill then ordered his men to put the Eldridge Hotel to the torch.274
Quantrill’s brief humanitarian gesture was indeed brief. Their first target was US Senator James Lane. They knew he was in town, and when the shooting started, Lane surmised that he would likely be their first target. So, s
till dressed in his nightshirt, he ran to a nearby cornfield; he kept going until he felt he was safe. Rev. Cordley later reported the conversation between Mrs. Lane and Quantrill when the guerrillas came to her door. Quantrill knocked and said he “wanted to see the general.” She told them “he was not in.” They broke up his furniture, smashed the piano, and then set the house on fire. When he left, Quantrill tipped his hat to Mrs. Lane, and “wished her to give his compliments to General Lane and tell him he would have been very glad to meet him.” Mrs. Lane assured him that “Mr. Lane would be no less glad to meet him under different circumstances, but it was not convenient that morning.”275
The bushwhackers found out that “Doc” Jennison was not in town, but ex-Governor Charles Robinson was, so his house was another target. Robinson was planning to leave in his carriage, and he was getting his team and wagon ready in his large stone barn when the attack started. He believed he would have his best chance for survival if he remained in the barn, and although the raiders rode by several times, they stayed away.
The bushwhackers had learned that stone and brick buildings—like Robinson’s barn—could be fortresses, and they avoided them. They also stayed away from ravines and wooded areas, fearing that they might be ambushed from these hiding places. Many who made it to these havens were, for the most part, safe, but everything and everyone else were fair game. Many soldiers, some of whom were home on furlough, and a large percentage of African Americans escaped as well. They knew that they likely were prime targets. Several elderly handicapped African American men were not able to escape, including one ninety-year-old preacher who was known around town as “Old Uncle Frank,” who had escaped from slavery on a plantation in Virginia. He thought he had found a haven in Lawrence, but he was gunned down by Quantrill’s men. Old Uncle Frank was like the vast majority of victims, peaceful residents who had no reason to believe they would be targeted.
Later, townsfolk who survived the carnage reported that after the bushwhackers burned the Eldridge Hotel and visited Senator Lane’s house, they divided into groups of six or eight. Each carried two to eight revolvers in his belt—some armed also with carbines—as they went about their butchery. Several of Quantrill’s men were stationed on Mount Oread to watch for any oncoming rescuers. Quantrill made it clear that women or girls were not to be harmed, but men or boys big enough to hold a gun were targets. While women were safe, nothing was to stop the raiders from killing husbands in the clutches of their wives. There were reports of guerrillas literally pulling women’s arms away to get a killing shot at their husbands. One woman reported that her neck was grazed by the bullet—shot at nearly point-blank range—that killed her husband. Many of the victims were shot multiple times to make sure they were dead, and in places where there were piles of corpses, the marauders rode by and unloaded their revolvers into the pile just to make sure their dirty deeds were done.
Some of the killings were particularly gruesome. Murdering men in front of their wives and children was disgraceful. There were several instances where husbands were killed, then thrown into their houses, which were then set on fire while their wives and families watched. Two teenagers, James Perine and James Eldridge, worked as clerks in the Country Store and lived upstairs. When the bushwhackers came into the store, they ordered the two boys to open the safe. They said they did not have the key, so the raiders said if they went and got the key and opened the safe, they would be spared. They got the key, opened the safe, and for their efforts both were shot and killed on the spot. Another gentleman, a Mr. Burt, was standing in front of his house, and a guerrilla asked him for his money. He complied, and as the culprit took his wallet with one hand, he shot Mr. Burt with the other. Another (or maybe the same ruffian) asked a Mr. Murphy for a glass of water. As Mr. Murphy handed him the glass, the bushwhacker shot him with his free hand.
One incident, however, transcended all others for its barbarity. D. W. Porter owned a small gun shop on Massachusetts Street. His store, in a small wooden building, was very close to the action, and he and a friend decided their best chance was to remain in the store. They were not disturbed for quite some time, but as the day and the raid wore on, many of the guerrillas had found ample supplies of liquor and were getting quite drunk. In this inebriated state, several came in to Mr. Porter’s store and shot him and his colleague, but did not kill them. Then they set the store on fire, bound the two men, and threw them into the inferno while they were still alive. The two men begged for mercy, but the thugs left them in the blaze until they were dead.
Rev. Cordley had just returned from Kansas City, where he had traded pulpits with his friend, the Reverend Louis Bodwell. He later said he was happy to be home because he felt safe, whereas in Kansas City, he was fearful for his safety since it was close to the guerrillas’ haunts. He woke up early on the morning of the twenty-first and was delighted because the day looked lovely. He heard a commotion a mile or so away but did not think much about it. But then, off in the distance “there came in sight the head of a column of horsemen, rushing forward at a furious speed, the reins over the horses’ necks, and the men sitting freely in their saddles with revolvers in hand, and firing continuously…. They passed about three hundred yards from my door in plain sight and wheeled to the left just in front of my house. They rode five or six abreast, and were splendid horsemen. They were desperate-looking men … belted about with revolvers, some carrying as many as six. Most of them also carried carbines.” As the bushwhackers came closer, Rev. Cordley, his wife, and Rev. Bodwell left and walked to the Kansas River, where they hid out in the brush. They were safe, but their house was burned to the ground. They were fortunate that they did not draw the attention of the Quantrill’s men because Rev. Cordley later discovered that Quantrill had singled him out for execution since he was a minister and supported escaped slaves.276
There were some miraculous escapes. One young African American man, as soon as he heard the shooting, started running, and he did not stop until he reached the Wakarusa River, some four miles distant. He climbed a tree, thinking that would be the safest place to hide. Sometime later, though, he noticed that when the raiders had left Lawrence, they were coming right to his hiding spot. He somehow managed to stay hidden as Quantrill and his men rode directly under the tree. Troy Strode, an African American blacksmith, had a patch of tomatoes in his front yard. He grabbed his money and hid in his garden of tomatoes. His shop was burned, but he was safe. A Union officer escaped from the recruit camp by running away, with the bushwhackers in hot pursuit. He ran into the home of a black family, found a woman’s dress, threw it on, along with a nearby sunbonnet, and sauntered out the back door. The guerrillas did not think to ask the “woman” where the soldier was. Mr. Winchell, the representative from the railroad who had addressed the people of Lawrence the night before, ran into the home of Dr. Charles Reynolds, the former rector of the Episcopal Church, who was away as a chaplain in the army. Mrs. Reynolds helped Winchell shave off his beard; then, she and a friend dressed him in women’s clothing and put him in a chair wrapped in blankets with cups and medicine bottles all around. When the raiders finally came calling she asked the men to please not bother poor “Aunt Betsie”—actually Mr. Winchell—who was very ill. They left them alone.
The most remarkable escape was that of the Reverend H. D. Fisher, the minister of the Methodist church, who had been chaplain of a Kansas regiment serving in Missouri. With the bushwhackers’ special hatred for ministers, and particularly for any who were also chaplains, Rev. Fisher was a prime target. As soon as he heard the commotion and knew what was happening, the reverend started to leave, but he quickly realized that his best chance of survival was to remain in his house. He had an unfinished cellar, so he hid there. The guerrillas came and demanded to see Rev. Fisher. The raiders came in, started looking all around the house, and then decided he was in the cellar. Mrs. Fisher said they were welcome to look there if they wanted, and even offered them a lantern. Rev. Fisher had crawled up into an u
nfinished area and they did not see him, but they were still convinced he was somewhere in the house, which they set on fire, hoping to smoke him out. Mrs. Fisher tried to save what she could from the house, while at the same time putting out the flames everywhere they were lit, but ultimately, she was not able to control the fire. So she concentrated her fire-fighting efforts on the area where her husband was hiding. Eventually, she realized she was losing ground, and she told her husband to come out. He crawled through a small window, and as soon as he was out, Mrs. Fisher wrapped him in a rug and piled furniture she had rescued on top of him. Although Quantrill’s men were watching the house while it burned, somehow Mrs. Fisher hid her husband until the house was reduced to ashes.
Mary Savage also helped her husband escape, but just before they fled, she witnessed a member of her church gunned down in the street. “We had not gone more than a mile when we saw one of our neighbors and a member of the same church running from his house and two of the bushwhackers after him,” she wrote. “They were just taking aim at him as we drove up. Joseph [her husband] comprehended the whole thing in a moment and jump[ed] from the buggy [and] was over the fence and into the cornfield in a second, while I sat almost stupefied with horror at the scene before me. They shot Mr. Langly [their neighbor] three times and I can never efface from my memory the look and cry of anguish that he gave as he fell, the blood running in streams from his wounds.”277
Many more women were not able to save their spouses. Sarah Fitch summoned the strength to write about the raid weeks later, and she probably captured the despair of many. “That demon [one of Quantrill’s men],” she wrote, “who was there swearing—shouting, screaming in our dear little parlor, with his revolver cocked in one hand, the matches lighted to fire our home in the other—I felt there was no mercy there … for all passed much more quickly than I can write it, that my heart almost stopped its beating—and in utter despair, I almost doubted if there was a God who loved us.” The raider shot her husband in cold blood, then burned her house to the ground.
Stark Mad Abolitionists Page 19
