Manhunt: The 12-Day Chase for Lincoln's Killer

by James L. Swanson

  ON THE ROAD SOUTH AND EAST FROM SURRATTSVILLE, BOOTH and Herold had the road to themselves—they saw and were seen by no one. Although desperate to put as much distance as possible between themselves and Washington, they had to be careful to not ride their horses too fast or hard. They had a long way to go and could not risk having the horses break down during a prolonged and dangerous sprint. Booth had pushed his horse to the limit when he galloped through downtown Washington, but escaping Baptist Alley and putting that first mile or two between himself and Ford’s Theatre was vital. Once he left Lloyd’s tavern, he paced the animal more carefully.

  DRS. LEALE, TAFT, AND KING SCRUTINIZED LINCOLN’S ENTIRE body front and back for knife or gunshot wounds but found nothing other than the bullet hole in the head. During their examination they noticed that the president’s lower extremities—his feet and legs—were already getting cold. Lincoln’s eyes were closed. The lids and surrounding tissue were so filled with blood that to Dr. Taft they looked bruised, like someone had punched the president in the face. The doctors lifted the lid covering Lincoln’s left eye: the pupil was very contracted. They lifted the lid over the right eye: the pupil was widely dilated, and both pupils were totally insensitive to light—all signs consistent with a catastrophic, irreversible injury to the brain. On the doctors’ orders, a hospital steward from Lincoln Hospital, a nearby military facility, sprinted from the bedside and returned with hot water, brandy, blankets, and a large sinapism, or mustard plaster. Soon the surgeons covered the whole anterior surface of Lincoln’s body, from the neck to the toes, with mustard plasters to keep him warm. Then they covered him up to his chin with a sheet, blankets, and a coverlet. His breathing was regular but heavy, interrupted by an occasional sigh. They laid a clean, white napkin over the bloodstains on the pillow. They placed a small chair at the head of the bed, near Lincoln’s face. Now the president was ready for Mary to see him again. Leale sent an officer to the front parlor to inform her. She rushed to the bedroom and sat beside her husband. “Love, live but for one moment to speak to me once—to speak to our children.” Lincoln was deaf to her pleas.

  With the president’s condition stable for now, or at least as stable as that of a dying man shot through the brain could be, Dr. Leale diverted his attention from medical to practical concerns. He sent messengers summoning Robert Todd Lincoln, the president’s eldest son; Surgeon General Joseph K. Barnes; Surgeon D. Willard Bliss at the Armory Square Hospital; Lincoln’s family physician, Dr. Robert King Stone; and the president’s pastor, the Reverend Dr. Phineas T. Gurley. He also sent a hospital steward in search of a special piece of medical equipment, a Nelaton probe. There was work to do inside Lincoln’s brain.

  Secretary of War Stanton pushed through the crowd, clambered up the stairs of the Petersen house and rushed down the hall. The sight of the president shocked him. He did not need doctors to tell him what would happen: Abraham Lincoln was going to die, and there was nothing that anyone could do about it. But he could do something: in the president’s absence, he could protect and defend the country.

  Stanton took charge of the Petersen house and commandeered the back parlor, the one closest to the bedroom, as his field office. He made a quick executive decision. He would not return to the War Department tonight but instead would remain with the president. The Petersen boardinghouse was the War Department now. Edwin Stanton assumed that the Lincoln and Seward assassinations had exposed the existence of a devilish Confederate plot to kill the leadership of the national government, reverse the verdict of the battlefield, and, in one last desperate assault, win the Civil War. Stanton and his lieutenants assumed that all the cabinet heads had been marked for death tonight. And a rebel army might be advancing on Washington at this moment.

  Stanton wanted his commanding general back in Washington immediately and ordered his aides to track down U. S. Grant. It was the first telegram issued from the ersatz War Department headquarters at the Petersen house.

  April 14th 12 P.M.

  1865 Washington DC

  To Lt. Genl Grant

  On Night Train to Burlington

  The President was assassinated tonight at Ford’s Theatre at 10 30 tonight & cannot live. The wound is a pistol shot through the head. Secretary Seward & his son Frederick, were also assassinated at their residence & are in a dangerous condition. The Secretary of War desires that you return to Washington immediately. Please answer on receipt of this.

  Thos. T. Eckert, Maj.

  It occurred to Charles A. Dana, assistant secretary of war, that Grant might be in danger. The newspapers had advertised his appearance at Ford’s Theatre, and perhaps he, too, was on Booth’s death list. Dana sent a telegram to Philadelphia, warning the commanding general of assassins or sabotage on the railroad: “Permit me to suggest to you to keep a close watch on all persons who come near you in the cars or otherwise; also, that an engine be sent in front of the train to guard against anything being on the track.” Stanton rushed guards to the homes of all the cabinet secretaries to protect them from imminent assassination, if they were not dead already. He ordered military units to take to the streets. At midnight Quartermaster General Meigs, who had ridden with Stanton to the Petersen house, dispatched an urgent message to Major General Christopher Columbus Augur (who signed his name “C. C.” for the obvious reasons), commander of the military district of Washington: “The Secretary directs that the troops turn out; the guards be doubled, the forts be alert; guns manned; special vigilance and guard about the Capitol Prison I advise, if your men are not sufficiently numerous, call upon General Rucker for assistance in furnishing guards.” The troops must maintain order and be ready for anything on this wild night. And clear away the mob from the street in front of this house, Stanton ordered. Soldiers tried to push back the insistent throng that pressed forward and obstructed Petersen’s staircase.

  Stanton then turned to his second mission, launching an investigation that would ascertain what had happened at Ford’s Theatre and the Seward house. He was determined to apprehend the criminals. He set up around his table a three-member court of inquiry—Judge Abram B. Olin, attorney Britten A. Hill, and chief justice of the D.C. courts David K. Cartter—to question witnesses. The secretary of war made it clear that he was in charge. Later, when Vice President Johnson arrived at the deathbed, he remained in the background and chose not to assert himself. In the days ahead the new president left it to Stanton to bring Lincoln’s killer and his accomplices to justice.

  Stanton had witnesses from Ford’s Theatre dragooned and brought before him. They spoke so fast that he recruited a legless Union army veteran who lived next door, James Tanner, to take it down in shorthand. One witness after another swore that it was Booth, John Wilkes Booth. Stanton barked orders by telegraph—his operators could wire news and orders all over the country—and soon telegraph lines across the nation were singing the same frequency: the president and the secretary of state have been assassinated. Messages went from the War Department to Baltimore, New York, and beyond. Search the trains. Guard the bridges. Watch for suspicious characters. Question witnesses. Identify suspects. Make arrests.

  Stanton did not have time to write out every order and telegram personally on Petersen’s round parlor table. Soon the command structure took over as his trusted subordinates issued a blizzard of instructions. All through the first hours of April 15, the telegraph wires carried messages between Washington and commanders in the field. At 12:20 A.M., General James A. Hardie sent an order to the U.S. Military Railroad at Alexandria: “It is reported that the assassin of the President has gone out hence to Alexandria, thence on the train to Fairfax. Stop all trains in that direction. Apply to military commander at Alexandria for guard to arrest all persons on train or on the road not known. By order of the Secretary of War.”

  At Winchester, Virginia, General Stevenson received an urgent message about the trains: “Have any trains reached Harper’s Ferry this morning? … [It] is possible that the assassins may endeavor t
o escape south through your lines at some point.” In a 1:00 A.M. telegram, Augur informed Major General Winfield Scott Hancock, commanding the Middle Military Division at Winchester, that he could spare no troops: “The President, Mr. Lincoln, was assassinated at Ford’s Theatre … and is now dying. The Secretary of State, Mr. Seward, was also stabbed in his bed, and is not expected to recover. I shall not be able to send cavalry as you ordered, as I wish to use them scouring the countryside for the assassins.” Around the same time Augur ordered General Gamble, commanding at Fairfax Court House, to “at daylight take your cavalry and scatter it along the river toward Leesburg to arrest and send in all suspicious persons; also along your whole line between it and Washington.”

  aT 1:10 A.M., APRIL 15, STANTON SENT A HURRIED TELEGRAM to John Kennedy, New York City’s chief of police, asking him to rush detectives to Washington: “Send here immediately three or four of your best detectives to investigate the facts as to the assassination of the President and Secretary Seward. They are still alive, but the president’s case is hopeless, and that of Mr. Seward’s nearly the same.”

  sOMETIME BETWEEN MIDNIGHT AND 1:00 A.M., GEORGE ATZErodt arrived at the Pennsylvania House. James Walker, a black employee whose job it was to “make fires, carry water, and to wait on gentlemen that come in late and early,” greeted him. Atzerodt was on a horse again, and he told Walker to hold the animal while he went into the bar to drink. When he emerged from the bar he rode away but returned on foot around 2:00 A.M. He wanted a bed and asked for room 51, where he had stayed in the past. Walker and the innkeeper, John Greenawalt, told him that his old room was occupied—he’d have to stay in 53, a room with several beds that he would have to share with other occupants. As George headed to his room Greenawalt told him to come back:

  “Atzerodt, you have not registered.”

  “Do you want my name?” He was reluctant to sign the book.

  “Certainly,” Greenawalt replied.

  The innkeeper thought that the German behaved oddly. “He hesitated some, but stepped back and registered, and went to his room. He had never before hesitated to register his name.”

  After Atzerodt had settled into his room, another guest, Lieutenant W. R. Keim, climbed into the bed opposite his. They had a passing acquaintance, having shared room 51 a week or ten days ago. Keim mentioned the news: “I asked him if he had heard of the assassination of the President, and he said he had; that it was an awful affair.”

  aT 1:30 A.M., STANTON SENT A TELEGRAM TO MAJOR GENERAL John A. Dix in New York. It contained the first details of the assassination:

  Last evening about 10:30 P.M. at Ford’s Theatre the President while sitting in his private box with Mrs. Lincoln, Miss Harris and Major Rathbun [sic] was shot by an assassin who suddenly entered the box and approached behind the President. The assassin then leaped upon the Stage brandishing a large dagger or knife and made his escape in the rear of the theater. The Pistol ball entered the back of the President’s head and penetrated nearly through the head. The wound is mortal. The President has been insensible ever since it was inflicted and is now dying.

  About the same hour an assassin (whether the same or another) entered Mr. Seward’s house and under pretense of having a prescription, was shown to the Secretary’s sick chamber, the Secretary was in bed a nurse and Miss Seward with him. The assassin immediately rushed to the bed inflicted two or three stabs on the throat and two on the face. It is hoped the wounds may not be mortal my apprehension is that they will prove fatal. The noise alarmed Mr. Frederick Seward who was in an adjoining room & hastened to the door of his father’s room, where he met the assassin who inflicted upon him one or more dangerous wounds. The recovery of Frederick Seward is doubtful. It is not probable that the President will live through the night. General Grant & wife were advertised to be at the theater this evening, but he started to Burlington at 6 o’clock this evening.

  At a cabinet meeting yesterday at which General Grant was present, the subject of the State of the Country & the prospect of speedy peace was discussed. The President was very cheerful & hopeful spoke very kindly of General Lee and others of the Confederacy, and the prospect of establishment of government in Virginia.

  The members of the Cabinet except Mr. Seward are now in attendance upon the President. I have seen Mr. Seward but he & Frederick were both unconscious.

  Soon the wires sang back with messages to Stanton from military commanders. We have received your news. We are obeying your orders. John Wilkes Booth could be heading anywhere: to Baltimore, the city where Lincoln was almost murdered in 1861, to his friends and old haunts there. To New York, disloyal capital of American commerce. Or farther north, to Canada, seat of operations for the Confederate Secret Service. Booth could be anywhere. The government would have to search for him everywhere. At 2:00 A.M., Major General Halleck, the army’s chief of staff, telegraphed General W. W. Morris, commanding the District of Baltimore: “Attempts have been made to-night to assassinate the President and Secretary of State. Arrest all persons who leave Washington to-night on any road or by water, and hold them till further orders. In the meantime report as to each person arrested.” At 3:00 A.M., Stanton wrote out another telegram to General Morris from his post at the Petersen house: “Make immediate arrangements for guarding thoroughly every avenue leading into Baltimore, and if possible arrest J. Wilkes Booth, the murderer of Abraham Lincoln. You will acknowledge the receipt of this telegram, giving time, & c. Edwin M. Stanton, Secretary of War.” Before Major Eckert handed the order over to a messenger to run over to the War Department telegraph office, he added a quick postscript in his own hand, addressed to the operators: “Bates, Stewart, or Maynard: Rush this through and order the immediate delivery.” Despite Eckert’s demand, it took fifty-five minutes for the message to travel from Stanton’s table in the back parlor at the Petersen house into Morris’s hands in Baltimore. He wrote his response at 4:15 A.M.: “Your dispatch received. The most vigourous measures will be taken. Every avenue is guarded. No trains or boats will be permitted to leave.”

  From Baltimore, Provost Marshal James L. McPhail sent an order to B. B. Hough at Saint Inigoes, Maryland: “The President is murdered: Mr. Seward and son nearly so. One of the murderers, J. Wilkes Booth, actor, played at Holliday Street a year ago. Twenty-five years old, five feet eight inches high, dark hair and mustache. He took the direction from Washington toward Saint Mary’s and Calvert Counties. Use all attempts to secure him.”

  Back in Washington, General Halleck, perhaps overly optimistic, made plans to imprison the assassins. In Halleck’s defense, if Booth was captured, the army would have to sequester him carefully to protect him from Lincoln’s avengers—rampaging mobs of vigilantes who might storm the Old Capitol prison—should they discover that the assassin was jailed there. It was too risky to imprison Booth anywhere on land. Halleck issued an order to General Augur: “Should either of the assassins of last night be caught put them in double irons and convey them, under a strong escort, to the commander of the navy-yard, who has orders to receive them and to confine them on a monitor to be anchored in the stream.” A watery moat would protect Booth from the angry citizens of Washington.

  Water was the secretary of the navy’s element, so Gideon Welles issued instructions personally to Commodore J. B. Montgomery at the Navy Yard: “If the military authorities arrest the murderer of the President and take him to the yard, put him on a monitor and anchor her in the stream, with strong guard on vessel, wharf, and in yard. Call upon commandant of Marine Corps for guard. Have vessel immediately prepared to receive him at any hour, day or night, with necessary instructions. He will be heavily ironed and so guarded as to prevent escape or injury to himself.” Welles could hardly allow Booth to commit suicide aboard one of his ships. Just to be sure, Welles also sent an order to Colonel Zeilin, commandant of the Marine Corps: “Have extra strong and careful guard ready for special service, if called for.” The army, the navy, and the marine corps were ready. Now all they had to
do was catch John Wilkes Booth, Lewis Powell, John H. Surratt, David Herold, and George Atzerodt.

  Halleck telegrammed Major General Ord in Richmond: “Attempts have been made to-night to assassinate the President and Secretary of State. Arrest all persons who may enter your lines by water or land.” Late that day General Grant, now back in Washington, sent Ord a telegram ordering him to arrest all paroled Confederate officers and surgeons. “Extreme rigor,” Grant warned, “will have to be observed whilst assassination remains the order of the day with the rebels.”

  Arrest everyone? a skeptical Ord wired back to Grant—even General Lee and his staff? That would be dangerous and unwise, Ord cautioned, and might incite a violent uprising in the former Confederate capital if rebel soldiers and the local citizenry feared that their hero Robert E. Lee was in danger: “Should I arrest them under the circumstances,” Ord continued, “I think the rebellion here would be reopened.” Grant relented: “On reflection I withdraw my dispatch.”

  THE DOCTORS CONTINUED THEIR USELESS MINISTRATIONS TO the dying president. They probed the wound with their bare, unsanitary fingers, sticking their pinkies inside Lincoln’s brain. They deployed the Nelaton probe to locate the bullet for possible extraction, as if that would have helped Lincoln. They poured a little brandy into their patient’s mouth to see if he could retain and swallow it. That unnecessary experiment sent Lincoln into a spasm of coughing that almost choked him to death. Eventually the assembled physicians gave up their tinkering and contented themselves to observe, monitoring Lincoln’s vital signs. Dr. Ezra Abbott, one of a dozen physicians who rushed to Lincoln’s deathbed, took notes on his pulse and respiration.