American Brutus

by Michael W. Kauffman

  It was a close call. Had the conspirators been in a hurry, they might have taken those guns out of the carriage right away and been caught in the act of hiding them. A few reckless words on the way in, and John Atzerodt might have discovered their purpose. As it happened, they saw the detective before he saw them, and they moved cautiously. He never guessed what they were doing. He took his drink, then left without having any idea how close he had come to disrupting the plot against Abraham Lincoln.

  Surratt put the guns, a box of cartridges, and a twenty-foot coil of rope on a sofa in the front parlor. The rifles were completely strange to Lloyd, and Surratt explained that they were Spencer carbines, “something like those that the cavalry use.” The Spencer was a repeating rifle with a short barrel that made it easier to shoot from horseback. Its cartridges could be spring-loaded, seven at a time, into the butt of the rifle for rapid firing. Surratt had two of these rifles, both with shoulder straps, and he knew where he wanted to hide them. He took Lloyd upstairs and showed him a space over the kitchen where the floor was about two feet lower than that of the adjoining room in the main house. From this unfinished area they could shove the rifles between the exposed joists over the dining room. If put far enough back, they would be completely out of sight. Lloyd had misgivings about hiding weapons in the house, but Surratt assured him he would be back to get them in a few days.20

  THE SEVENTH STREET INCIDENT marked a turning point in the plot, and to all appearances, the conspirators were going their separate ways. David Herold accepted a clerkship at an Army of the James hospital, and was told to report for duty on April 1. Lewis Powell went to New York, and John Surratt resumed his courier runs for the Confederacy. Arnold and O’Laughlen gave notice to Mrs. Van Tyne on March 18. They said they were moving to Pennsylvania, but two days later, they returned to Baltimore. Atzerodt, meanwhile, not only remained in the plot, but moved up in the pecking order. He apparently still believed that Booth was going to make him rich, in spite of all evidence to the contrary. Indeed, Atzerodt had received nothing so far, and had actually lost money, having lent some to John Surratt. But he remained committed, and on the afternoon of the eighteenth, he checked in to the Pennsylvania House, just across C Street from the National Hotel. Logistics for the river crossing would now fall to Thomas Harbin and others.21

  That same night, John Wilkes Booth appeared at Ford’s Theatre in The Apostate for the benefit of John McCullough. It was a play that had special meaning for both of them. The lead role had always been associated with the elder Booth, and the play itself was the first that McCullough had ever seen. It was an old-fashioned melodrama set in Granada during the revolt of the Moors. The Apostate culminates in the killing of the tyrant Pescara and the suicide of Hemeya, his assassin. It was to be Booth’s final performance, and it went extremely well. The full house included those conspirators who were still in town plus Lou Weichmann and John Holohan. Even Mrs. Van Tyne was there, on a complimentary pass given her by O’Laughlen. 22

  A COUPLE OF DAYS LATER, John Surratt asked Lou Weichmann to go with him to the post office. Surratt picked up a letter addressed to “James Sturdey,” one of his aliases, and he showed it to his nosy friend. Weichmann found the letter a bit cryptic. All he got from it was that someone named Wood was stopping at the Revere House in New York City and would soon move to a boardinghouse on West Grand Street. That was one of two messages Surratt received from New York that day. Roderick D. Watson, the son of Thomas Jones’s neighbor in Maryland, addressed a letter directly to Surratt at the boardinghouse. He claimed to have important business, and hoped Surratt would come up to see him right away.

  From these letters, it appeared that something was happening in New York. Lewis Powell and Preston Parr were there, and on the twenty-first, Booth took an evening train up as well. The last performance of Edwin’s “Hundred Nights of Hamlet” was to take place the following night, and John Wilkes apparently went to the Winter Garden to witness the event. It was touted as one of the great triumphs of theatrical history, but Edwin’s accomplishment drew more attention to John Wilkes. Now more than ever, people turned to him and wondered why he did not return to the stage.23

  With every trip to New York, Booth saw the widening contrast between North and South. In the South, people starved, suffered, and died in a struggle for existence. By comparison, New Yorkers were prosperous and carefree. They spent a fortune on mere entertainment, and people like Edwin and Clarke got wealthy in the process. To John Wilkes Booth, it didn’t seem fair. Though Edwin was a Unionist, his support had been all talk, no action. At some level, John Wilkes must have known that his own situation was no different. Though he might still take an active part in the war, his chance to do so was quickly fading.

  New York City was becoming a second home to the Lincoln conspiracy, and Lewis Powell’s presence there underscores the importance of the place, as well as its mystery. Booth spent much of his time in the city. He tried to recruit Chester and other Broadway actors, and he probably met with rebel agents he had come to know through John Surratt. But it is hard to say with certainty. Though New York was an important hub in the Confederate underground, investigators seem to have missed the Booth connection almost entirely. They were slow to appreciate the number of sympathizers who could have given him aid and comfort. As one resident put it, “There is about as much Yankee in the city of New York as there is in South Carolina and about as much opposition to the party in power as there can be anywhere south.” The place was a stronghold of anti-Lincoln sentiment, and it was where Confederates planned some of their “irregular warfare” operations.

  It would be tempting to assume a connection between those Confederates and John Wilkes Booth. But in fact we just don’t know. Indeed, New York might be a red herring. Booth, Surratt, and Powell used it as a blind, and they often claimed to be going there when they really weren’t. Though several conspirators referred to the city, they had clearly been misled as to its importance. George Atzerodt, for example, said that Booth had posted some of his people in New York and that he was getting money from there. But Atzerodt also thought that Powell had come from there; and according to Sam Arnold, all of the money Booth got in New York was borrowed.

  New York City was never mentioned in any official report. Detectives were so fixated on Southern complicity that they ignored almost all leads that pointed elsewhere. Consequently, our knowledge is trivial. We know, for example, that Booth visited a club called the Lone Star, on Broadway; and we know that he consorted with prostitutes Annie Horton and Sally Andrews there. But looking for more substantive matters, we find only the visits with Sam Chester, and the fact that Booth ordered a pair of tall cavalry-style boots from Henry Lux, on Broadway. He wanted them made with pockets inside, for hiding papers.24

  THE CONSPIRACY REMAINED ACTIVE, and to all appearances, Lou Weichmann was moving to the center of it. Weichmann had seen a lot recently: the meeting of Powell and Surratt in his bedroom, the note to Surratt from “Wood,” and the comings and goings of Confederate spies. But on March 23, Booth gave him an actual assignment for the plot. He sent him a telegram with instructions to “tell John to telegraph number and street at once.” The message, delivered to the Surratt house, was received by Eliza Holohan, who took it to Weichmann at his office. The “John” was John Surratt, and by the time he got the telegram, it had already been seen by government clerks, fellow boarders, and friends of Lou Weichmann. Only Surratt, however, knew what it meant.

  Though Weichmann was thrilled to be entering Surratt’s inner circle, he had no idea that much of what he was seeing had actually been gotten up just for his benefit. Take the “Wood” letter, for example. Its author, Lewis Powell, was not moving to Grand Street, as the letter indicated, but was coming back to Washington. Someone had recommended he check into the Herndon House, midway between Ford’s Theatre and Surratt’s. Powell needed to know how to find the place; hence the order to “telegraph number and street at once.” The hotel was across from the post
office, and Surratt got the address on his way back from there. He sent his girlfriend, Anna Ward, to inquire if a room would be available.25

  The fact is, Lou Weichmann’s conspirator status was an illusion. He was one of the last people Booth would have trusted to join the plot. Weichmann was too nosy, and he had already told his co-workers in the War Department about the strange goings-on at the Surratt house. He thought it was all about blockade-running, and that was relatively harmless. But he must have had doubts. At least once he had demanded to know what was really going on. Surratt could always placate him, but that might not always be the case. And he had been spending a lot of time lately with the drunken, unpredictable Atzerodt.

  Weichmann had already forced some close calls—one of which nearly ended Booth’s conspiracy. Surratt’s March 17 ride out to Seventh Street, and the strange way that Surratt, Booth, and Powell had barged into his room afterward, left Weichmann disturbed and confused. On Monday the twentieth he reported his suspicions to his supervisor at the War Department. Major Daniel H. L. Gleason listened patiently, but with a bit of skepticism. He had often overheard his clerks trying to impress one another, and he knew that Weichmann could keep up with the best of them. On one occasion, in fact, Weichmann had boasted to his colleagues that he “could make thirty thousand dollars, easy as dirt.” When asked how he could do that, he put on an air of secretiveness and said, “Never mind. I know how.” So Gleason found it hard to take this report seriously. His intuition was confirmed a few days later when Weichmann recanted, saying that his friends were just having fun with him. John Surratt even came by the office, and they joked together about making huge sums of money.26

  But Daniel Gleason was not the only person in whom Weichmann confided. On the evening of the seventeenth, he wrote to Father John B. Menu, his mentor at St. Charles College, and told him that something was not right with the Surratts. Father Menu thought highly of John Surratt, and this accusation bothered him. He replied by return mail. “Why do you not speak more fully?” he asked. “Could you not have said openly what is the [unintelligible] trip for which he is soon to depart? . . . Between us there should be no secret.” Judging from that response, it seems that Weichmann had written “in an obscure way” that he thought Mrs. Surratt was a rebel. He probably never saw Father Menu’s reply; somebody intercepted it, and after the assassination, it was found in John Wilkes Booth’s trunk. 27

  Knowing that Weichmann was a security risk, the conspirators did all they could to compromise him. One day Booth sent him that “tell John” message, and the next, John Surratt asked him to write out “something flowery,” in his own hand, about Booth’s oil business. A few days later, Surratt had Weichmann write another note—one that made him seem deeply involved in the plot. James Brawner and Richard Smoot had never received payment for their boat. They had tried to contact him several times, but evidently Surratt could not get the money from Booth, so he had to look elsewhere. He asked Weichmann to write a note—again, in his own distinctive hand: “Tell _____ to have that money ready for me by the first of the week. I will call down and collect it.” 28

  BOOTH RETURNED from New York on the morning of March 25. He had taken an overnight train, and Sarah Slater, the Confederate courier, probably traveled with him. For her, Washington was only a brief stop on a trip to Richmond. She was carrying letters from Confederate General Edwin G. Lee in Montreal to Secretary of State Judah Benjamin, and they needed to get through the lines quickly. Her movements were a study in efficiency. When the train arrived at seven-thirty, Booth went directly to his hotel. John Surratt picked Mrs. Slater up in a rented carriage and took her to H Street. As they pulled up to the curb, the front door opened and out came Mary Surratt. While her son steadied the horses, Mrs. Surratt stepped into the carriage. In just a minute or two, they were gone.29

  Sarah Slater was supposed to go to Surrattsville, where Spencer Howell would escort her farther south. But detectives had arrested Howell the night before, and plans had to be adjusted accordingly. As it happened, they encountered a neighbor, David Barry, at the Surratt tavern. Barry had business in Port Tobacco, so he drove the carriage while Mrs. Surratt took the stage back home.30

  John Surratt and Sarah Slater crossed the Potomac that night, and the next day, Barry brought their carriage back to Howard’s Stable. He also delivered a note to Brooke Stabler:

  March 26th, 1865

  Mr. Brooks:

  As business will detain me for a few days in the country, I thought I would send your team back. Mr. Barry will deliver it safely and pay the hire on it. If Mr. Booth my friend should want my horses let him have them, but no one else. If you should want any money on them he will let you have it. I should like to have kept the team for several days, but it is too expensive, especially as I have “woman on the brain” and may be away for a week or so.

  Yours respectfully,

  J. Harrison Surratt

  John Surratt must have thought the conspiracy was finished. By letting Booth use his horses, “but no one else,” he effectively rescinded the privilege from Atzerodt, who was still in need of transportation. He could hardly have done the same to Booth, since those horses actually belonged to him.31

  ELEVEN

  “THERE IS GOING TO BE SOME SPLENDID ACTING TONIGHT”

  WAR AND POLITICS HAD MADE JOHN WILKES BOOTH an outcast. He was once a popular, beloved stage idol, but by 1865, people openly mocked him and taunted him for his convictions. Harry Ford and a friend named Abner Brady were talking one afternoon, and Booth joined the conversation. The talk turned to the war, and Booth grew defensive about the South and its chances of survival. He said that within two weeks, something would happen that would “astonish the world.”

  Brady had a quick retort: “What are you going to do—kill Jefferson Davis, take Richmond, or play Hamlet a hundred nights?” 1

  ON MONDAY, MARCH 27, a special announcement appeared in the Evening Star:

  FORD’S THEATRE — The Italian opera season about to be inaugurated at this popular theater, promises to be the most brilliant ever known in Washington. . . . The first of the series of six operas, La Forza Del Destino (the Force of Destiny) being selected for the debut of the troupe. . . . The President and Mrs. Lincoln have secured boxes for several of the operas, and the British and Italian Ministers for the entire series. The wealth, beauty and fashion of the Capital will, we doubt not, be strongly represented during the opera season.

  Now this was exciting news! Booth hurried over to Ford’s, hoping to learn which of the operas the president planned to attend. In fact, Mrs. Lincoln had secured a box for Ernani on Wednesday, the twenty-ninth. She and her husband had gone off to visit Grant’s headquarters at City Point, Virginia, but evidently they planned to be back soon. If Booth could reassemble his group in time, perhaps they could finally strike a blow.

  He dashed off a telegram to O’Laughlen. “Get word to Sam. to come on with or without him Wednesday morning. We sell that day sure. Don’t fail. J. Wilkes Booth.” Then, impatient for a response, he took the first train to Baltimore. Finding neither Arnold nor O’Laughlen at home, he went to Barnum’s Hotel and wrote out a couple of notes asking them to meet him there. By chance, Billy “Pomp” Williams was there. Pomp had once worked for the Booths, and John Wilkes asked if he would mind doing him a favor. He was going to New York, he said, and he needed someone to deliver a couple of letters. Williams agreed, and headed off to the Arnold Bakery on Fayette Street.2

  Booth wasn’t really going to New York. He headed back to Washington and went straight over to the National Theatre. He saw Thomas Wallace there, playing billiards in the parlor above the lobby. Wallace had met Booth some months before, and once agreed to rent out a theater box for him. Somehow, he had never gotten around to it. Now Booth renewed his request, and specified that it had to be Box 7, on the upper level, at Ford’s Theatre. The ticket would cost ten dollars, but Booth wanted the arrangements made promptly, so he gave Wallace twenty.3

  G
eorge Atzerodt must have been on alert. He went back to Port Tobacco that day and closed up his carriage shop. Handing the keys to his friend Nicholas B. Crangle, he said that he was going away; his customers could take their carriages if they needed them. That done, he picked up another friend, Henry Marcellus Bailey, and headed to Washington. Bailey, a Confederate veteran, had once tended bar in Brawner’s Hotel, but quit his job abruptly in mid-January, at the same time that Atzerodt was recruited into the plot. He may have known what was going on, but perhaps not. Either way, he was another headache for John Wilkes Booth.4

  Lewis Powell returned from New York that night and, using the name Kensler, checked in to a third-floor room in the Herndon House. The hotel was just around the corner from Ford’s, where Powell joined Booth for the Italian opera La Forza del Destino, then in progress. John Surratt was not with them, and in fact would never be back again. Though Arnold and O’Laughlen had received their notes too late, it was just as well. They also had given up on Booth.

  It was not an easy break for Arnold. He had been out at his uncle’s farm in Hookstown, near Pimlico, when he learned that Booth wanted to see him. By the time he got to Barnum’s Hotel, Booth had already left. So Arnold went home to mull things over. He still wanted to be done with the plot, but he did not want to leave on such a harsh note. So that evening, he sat down to put his feelings in a letter. He wrote that Booth’s summons had taken him by surprise, as he had not expected to hear anything more of their enterprise for a month or so, and that a revival of their plot now would raise suspicions among Arnold’s family. He urged Booth to avoid any rash or hasty action, and suggested he “see how it will be taken in R——d” before doing anything at all. He hoped his position would not jeopardize his friendship with Booth, and offered to meet personally with him during the following week.