On February 21, 1965, the black leader Malcolm X was assassinated as he started to address a rally in New York City. Malcolm X was a controversial figure. He had spent time in jail as a street criminal. As spokesman for Elijah Mohammed's Nation of Islam, he articulated a virulently antiwhite program of black self-help. After a trip to Mecca, he broke with Elijah Mohammed and his antiwhite policies to form an independent political group expressing both national and international concerns.
A: from The New York Times
Malcolm X, the 39-year-old leader of a militant black nationalist movement, was shot to death yesterday afternoon at a rally of his followers in a ballroom in Washington Heights.
Shortly before midnight, a 22-year-old Negro, Thomas Hagan, was charged with the killing. The police rescued him from the ballroom crowd after he has been shot and beaten.
Malcolm, a bearded extremist, had said only a few words of greeting when a fusillade rang out. The bullets knocked him over backward.
Pandemonium broke out among the 400 Negroes in the Audubon Ballroom at 166th Street and Broadway. As men, women and children ducked under tables and flattened themselves on the floor, more shots were fired. Some witnesses said 30 shots had been fired.
The police said seven bullets had struck Malcolm. Three other Negroes were shot.
About two hours later the police said the shooting had apparently been a result of a feud between followers of Malcolm and members of the extremist group he broke with last year, the Black Muslims. However, the police declined to say whether Hagan is a Muslim.
The Medical Examiner's office said early this morning that a preliminary autopsy showed Malcolm had died of “multiple gunshot wounds.” The office said that bullets of two different calibers as well as shotgun pellets had been removed from his body.
One police theory was that as many as five conspirators might have been involved, two creating a diversionary disturbance.
Hagan was shot in the left thigh and his left leg was broken, apparently by kicks. He was under treatment in the Bellevue Hospital prison ward last night; perhaps a dozen policemen were guarding him, according to the hospital's night erintendent. The police said they had found a cartridge case with four unused .45-caliber shells in his pocket.
Two other Negroes, described as “apparent spectators” by Assistant Chief Inspector Harry Taylor, in command of Manhattan North uniformed police, also were shot. They were identified as William Harris, wounded seriously in the abdomen, and William Parker, shot in a foot. Both were taken to Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center, which is close to the ballroom.
Capt. Paul Glaser of the Police Department's Community Relations Bureau said early today that Hagan, using a double-barrelled shotgun with shortened barrels and stock, had killed Malcolm X.
Malcolm, a slim, reddish-haired six-footer with a gift for bitter eloquence against what he considered white exploitation of Negroes, broke in March, 1964, with the Black Muslim movement called the Nation of Islam, headed by Elijah Muhammad . . . .
B: from Newsweek
He was born Malcolm Little, an Omaha Negro preacher's son. Before he was out of his teens, he was Big Red, a Harlem hipster trafficking in numbers, narcotics, sex, and petty crime. He was buried as Al Hajj Malik Shabazz, a spiritual desperado lost between the peace of Islam and the pain of blackness. His whole life was a series of provisional identities, and he was still looking for the last when, as Malcolm X, 39, apostate Black Muslim and mercurial black nationalist, he was gunned to death by black men last week in a dingy uptown New York ballroom.
He had seen the end coming?predicted it, in fact, so long and so loudly that people had stopped listening. Malcolm X had always been an extravagant talker, a demagogue who titillated slum Negroes and frightened whites with his blazing racist attacks on the “white devils” and his calls for an armed American Mau Mau. His own flamboyant past made it easy to disregard his dire warnings that he had been marked for murder by the Muslims, the anti-white, anti- integrationist Negro sect he had served so devoutly for a dozen years and fought so bitterly since his defection a year ago.
His assassination turned out to be one of his few entirely accurate prophecies. Its fulfillment triggered an ominous vendetta between the Malcolmites and the Muslims?ominous in its intensity even though it was isolated on the outermost extremist fringe of American Negro life.
Death came moments after Malcolm stepped up to a flimsy plywood lectern in Manhattan's Audubon Ballroom, just north of Harlem, to address 400 of the faithful and the curious at a Sunday afternoon rally of his fledgling Organization of Afro-American Unity. The extermination plot was clever in conception, swift and smooth in execution. Two men popped to their feet in the front rows of wooden folding chairs, one yelling at the other: “Get your hands off my pockets, don't be messing with my pockets.” Four of Malcolm's six bodyguards moved toward the pair; Malcolm himself chided, “Let's cool it.”
Volley: Then came a second diversion: a man's sock, soaked in lighter fluid and set ablaze, flared in the rear. Heads swiveled, and as they did, a dark, muscular man moved toward the lectern in a crouch, a sawed-off shotgun wrapped in his coat. Blam-blam! A double-barreled charge ripped up through the lectern and into Malcolm's chest. From the left, near the spot where the two men had been squabbling, came a back-up volley of pistol fire.
Malcolm tumbled backward, his lean body rent by a dozen wounds, his heels hooked over a fallen chair. The hall was bedlam. Malcolm's pregnant wife, Betty, rushed on stage screaming, “They're killing my husband!” His retainers fired wildly through the crowd at the fleeing killers. Four assailants made it to side doors and disappeared.
The man with the shotgun, identified by police as 22-year-old Talmadge Hayer of Paterson, N.J., dashed down a side aisle to the stairway exit from the second floor ballroom. From the landing, one of Malcolm's bodyguards winged him in the thigh with a .45-caliber slug. Howling in pursuit (“Kill the bastard!”), the ballroom crowd caught Hayer on the sidewalk, mauled him, and broke his ankle before police rescued him.
Hayer was charged with homicide. Five days later, police picked up a karate-trained Muslim “enforcer,” Norman 3X Butler, 26, as suspect No. 2.
The arrest of a Muslim surprised almost no one. For all his many enemies, Malcolm himself had insisted to the end that it was the Muslims who wanted him dead. They seemed to dog him everywhere he went; a bare week before his death, he was firebombed out of his Queens home, the ownership of which he had been disputing with the Muslims. Increasingly edgy, he moved with his wife and four children first to Harlem's Hotel Theresa, finally?the night before his death?to the New York Hilton in the alien world downtown. When he died, Manhattan police assumed that Muslims were involved.
Taken from http://www.criticalreading.com/malcolm.htm
Thursday, October 1, 2009
1980: John Lennon shot deadFormer Beatle John Lennon has been shot dead by an unknown gunman who opened fire outside the musician's New York apartment.
The 40-year-old was shot several times as he entered the Dakota, his luxury apartment building on Manhattan's Upper West Side, opposite Central Park, at 2300 local time.
He was rushed in a police car to St Luke's Roosevelt Hospital Center, where he died.
His wife, Yoko Ono, who is understood to have witnessed the attack, was with him.
Shots heard
A police spokesman said a suspect was in custody, but he had no other details of the shooting.
"This was no robbery," the spokesman said, adding that Mr Lennon was probably shot by a "deranged" person.
Witness reports say at least three shots were fired and others have claimed they heard six.
There are also reports Mr Lennon staggered up six steps into the vestibule after he was shot, before collapsing.
Jack Douglas, Lennon's producer, said he and the Lennons had been at a studio called the Record Plant in mid-town earlier in the evening and Lennon left at 2230.
Mr Lennon said he planned to have some dinner and then return home, Mr Douglas said.
Fans at scene
The Lennons are said to have left their limousine on the street and walked up the driveway when the gunman opened fire.
It is unclear whether the man had been lying in wait in the entrance to the building for Mr Lennon, or whether he came up behind him.
Witnesses describe the gunman as a "pudgy kind of man", 35 to 40 years old with brown hair.
Other former band members, Paul McCartney, guitarist George Harrison and drummer Ringo Starr are thought to have been informed of Lennon's murder.
Fans have already begun arriving at the scene, many still unaware Lennon has died.
Mr Lennon is survived by his wife, their son Sean, and his son from a previous marriage, Julian.
As Lennon and Ono walked to their limousine, they were approached by several people seeking autographs, among them Chapman.[6] He silently handed Lennon a copy of Double Fantasy, and Lennon obliged with an autograph.[6] After signing the album Lennon asked him, "Is this all you want?" Chapman nodded in agreement. Photographer and Lennon fan Paul Goresh snapped a photo of the event. [7]
The Lennons spent several hours at the Record Plant studio before returning to the Dakota at about 10:50 p.m. Lennon decided against eating out so he could be home in time to say goodnight to five-year-old son Sean before he went to sleep. They exited their limousine on 72nd Street, even though the car could have been driven into the more secure courtyard.[8]
Police artist's drawing of the murder
The Dakota's doorman, Jose Perdomo, and a cab driver saw Chapman standing in the shadows by the archway.[9] Ono walked ahead of Lennon and into the reception area. As Lennon passed by, Chapman fired five hollow-point bullets at Lennon from a Charter Arms .38 Special revolver.[1] There was an isolated radio and newspaper claim at the time that, before firing, Chapman called out "Mr. Lennon" and dropped into a "combat stance",[10] but this is not stated in court hearings or witness interviews. Chapman has said he did not remember calling out Lennon's name before he shot him.[11] One shot missed, passing over Lennon's head and hitting a window of the Dakota building. However, two shots struck Lennon in the left side of his back and two more penetrated his left shoulder. All four bullets inflicted severe gunshot wounds, with at least one of them piercing Lennon's aorta.[12] Lennon staggered up five steps to the security/reception area, said, "I'm shot," and collapsed. Concierge Jay Hastings covered Lennon with his uniform, and removed his glasses; he then summoned the police. Outside, doorman Perdomo shook the gun out of Chapman's hand then kicked it across the sidewalk.[9] Chapman then removed his coat and hat in preparation for the police arrival to show he was not carrying any concealed weapons and sat down on the sidewalk. Doorman Perdomo shouted at Chapman, "Do you know what you've done?", to which Chapman calmly replied, "Yes, I just shot John Lennon." The first policemen to arrive were Steve Spiro and Peter Cullen, who were at 72nd Street and Broadway when they heard a report of shots fired at the Dakota. The officers found Chapman sitting "very calmly" on the sidewalk. They reported that Chapman had dropped the revolver to the ground, and was holding a paperback book, J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye.[13] Chapman had scribbled a message on the book's inside front cover: "To Holden Caulfield. From Holden Caulfield. This is my statement." He would later claim that his life mirrored that of Holden Caulfield, the main protagonist of the book.
The second team, Officers Bill Gamble and James Moran, arrived a few minutes later. They immediately carried Lennon into their squad car and rushed him to Roosevelt Hospital. Officer Moran said they placed Lennon on the back seat.[14] Moran asked, "Do you know who you are?" There are conflicting accounts on what happened next. In one account, Lennon nodded slightly and tried to speak, but could only manage to make a gurgling sound, and lost consciousness shortly thereafter.[15]
The 40-year-old was shot several times as he entered the Dakota, his luxury apartment building on Manhattan's Upper West Side, opposite Central Park, at 2300 local time.
He was rushed in a police car to St Luke's Roosevelt Hospital Center, where he died.
His wife, Yoko Ono, who is understood to have witnessed the attack, was with him.
Shots heard
A police spokesman said a suspect was in custody, but he had no other details of the shooting.
"This was no robbery," the spokesman said, adding that Mr Lennon was probably shot by a "deranged" person.
Witness reports say at least three shots were fired and others have claimed they heard six.
There are also reports Mr Lennon staggered up six steps into the vestibule after he was shot, before collapsing.
Jack Douglas, Lennon's producer, said he and the Lennons had been at a studio called the Record Plant in mid-town earlier in the evening and Lennon left at 2230.
Mr Lennon said he planned to have some dinner and then return home, Mr Douglas said.
Fans at scene
The Lennons are said to have left their limousine on the street and walked up the driveway when the gunman opened fire.
It is unclear whether the man had been lying in wait in the entrance to the building for Mr Lennon, or whether he came up behind him.
Witnesses describe the gunman as a "pudgy kind of man", 35 to 40 years old with brown hair.
Other former band members, Paul McCartney, guitarist George Harrison and drummer Ringo Starr are thought to have been informed of Lennon's murder.
Fans have already begun arriving at the scene, many still unaware Lennon has died.
Mr Lennon is survived by his wife, their son Sean, and his son from a previous marriage, Julian.
As Lennon and Ono walked to their limousine, they were approached by several people seeking autographs, among them Chapman.[6] He silently handed Lennon a copy of Double Fantasy, and Lennon obliged with an autograph.[6] After signing the album Lennon asked him, "Is this all you want?" Chapman nodded in agreement. Photographer and Lennon fan Paul Goresh snapped a photo of the event. [7]
The Lennons spent several hours at the Record Plant studio before returning to the Dakota at about 10:50 p.m. Lennon decided against eating out so he could be home in time to say goodnight to five-year-old son Sean before he went to sleep. They exited their limousine on 72nd Street, even though the car could have been driven into the more secure courtyard.[8]
Police artist's drawing of the murder
The Dakota's doorman, Jose Perdomo, and a cab driver saw Chapman standing in the shadows by the archway.[9] Ono walked ahead of Lennon and into the reception area. As Lennon passed by, Chapman fired five hollow-point bullets at Lennon from a Charter Arms .38 Special revolver.[1] There was an isolated radio and newspaper claim at the time that, before firing, Chapman called out "Mr. Lennon" and dropped into a "combat stance",[10] but this is not stated in court hearings or witness interviews. Chapman has said he did not remember calling out Lennon's name before he shot him.[11] One shot missed, passing over Lennon's head and hitting a window of the Dakota building. However, two shots struck Lennon in the left side of his back and two more penetrated his left shoulder. All four bullets inflicted severe gunshot wounds, with at least one of them piercing Lennon's aorta.[12] Lennon staggered up five steps to the security/reception area, said, "I'm shot," and collapsed. Concierge Jay Hastings covered Lennon with his uniform, and removed his glasses; he then summoned the police. Outside, doorman Perdomo shook the gun out of Chapman's hand then kicked it across the sidewalk.[9] Chapman then removed his coat and hat in preparation for the police arrival to show he was not carrying any concealed weapons and sat down on the sidewalk. Doorman Perdomo shouted at Chapman, "Do you know what you've done?", to which Chapman calmly replied, "Yes, I just shot John Lennon." The first policemen to arrive were Steve Spiro and Peter Cullen, who were at 72nd Street and Broadway when they heard a report of shots fired at the Dakota. The officers found Chapman sitting "very calmly" on the sidewalk. They reported that Chapman had dropped the revolver to the ground, and was holding a paperback book, J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye.[13] Chapman had scribbled a message on the book's inside front cover: "To Holden Caulfield. From Holden Caulfield. This is my statement." He would later claim that his life mirrored that of Holden Caulfield, the main protagonist of the book.
The second team, Officers Bill Gamble and James Moran, arrived a few minutes later. They immediately carried Lennon into their squad car and rushed him to Roosevelt Hospital. Officer Moran said they placed Lennon on the back seat.[14] Moran asked, "Do you know who you are?" There are conflicting accounts on what happened next. In one account, Lennon nodded slightly and tried to speak, but could only manage to make a gurgling sound, and lost consciousness shortly thereafter.[15]
The assination of Kurt Cobain?
Kurt Cobain Death
On April 8 1994 at 8.40 AM, an electrician who came to check the electrical network from a luxury villa in Seattle found the lifeless body of Kurt Cobain. A bullet in the head appears to have killed him. Near the body was found a box of drugs, burnt spoons and also syringes. A rifle was found on his chest along with a “goodbye note” in the room. Is this a clear case of suicide? According to local law enforcement it was. However, for conspiracy theory advocates they were hard to be satisfied with the superficial investigations of the Seattle Police and the frenzy that ensured with the media announcing the premature death of Cobain.
At 27, singer and composer of the band Nirvana, Cobain was not just a rock star acclaimed at international level. He was also the idol of many representatives of “Generation X”. Fans do not see him like any other star; for them he was a leader and hero. The funerals turned Seattle into a transit city and similar suicides were recorded all over the world. Cobain died when he was on top of success. His music was heard and excited millions of people worldwide. This incredible success brought him the unwanted status of being the spokesman for a whole generation and the grunge rock movement.
For Kurt Cobain, punk-rock and drugs provided a way to escape. Cobain, who was totally self-contained didn’t seem to have seen death as the last solution for the pain and the depression that haunted his youth. Although it was very well known that Cobain was a man with problems, many people find it hard to believe that he would put an end to his days. Even though theories of his death are widespread, his compact disks continue to sell.
The common thread of these conspiracy assumptions is that, despite his poor physical condition (illustrated by the fact that he was on the brink of death after an overdose of heroin taken one month before, in a hotel in Rome) Cobain had started to put his life in order and began thinking of some positive changes. These are well known facts. More than likely the divorce from the rock star Courtney Love and a real battle for custody of their daughter were not exactly easy. Cobain though was not a coward by any means. He had proven in the past and he was a man that build his road on his own to the world’s recognition. Many of those who studied his case believe that sinister forces had worked in Seattle to lead him to this premature end. All these questions have naturally given birth to some disturbing questions related to the alleged suicide and the death of Kurt Cobain.
On Easter day, Sunday April 3rd 1994, Courtney Love called Tom Grant from California. The day before, Cobain climbed on the wall of the Exodus detox clinic and went back by plane to Seattle. Although her husband intended to kill himself and had one month prior almost died from an overdose, Love decided not to personally go to Seattle. Instead, she assigned Grant to find Cobain with a striking and enigmatic expression: “Save the American idol, Tom!” Grant looked for Cobain at the villa in Seattle on April 7, at 2.45 AM and again at 9.45 PM. He didn’t find the body that lay hidden in the greenhouse above the garage though. Eventually, it was discovered the next day, Kurt Cobain was dead.
Tom Grant, the one that Love had paid for seven months to investigate Kurt Cobain death, is one of the many who think Cobain must have been killed by someone close to him. Because the killer and other conspirators must have enjoyed his confidence and could easily get to him, many theorists believe that this indicates a family member, a close friend or an employee. Rumors say that the rock star thought more about leaving the music industry rather than leave this world. Cobain dead is worth much more in terms of records sales than he ever was alive. Theorist says that an idol that is no longer interested in a musical career is a motive. It is well known that the heads of the record companies also have such a moral sense that any bum seems to be an honest member of the community. With millions of dollars being made in the music game, the Kurt Cobain death could be considered more like a Cobain retirement.
At the crime scene was a lot of evidence that raises questions regarding the possibility that Kurt Cobain didn’t commit suicide. One of his credit cards was missing and someone tried to use it before his body was discovered and also after the autopsy investigations were published. There weren’t any fingerprints nor was there any gun powder on the gun, which suggests that it had been wiped clean. Cobain’s body was also found with an extremely high level of heroin, which means that it would be pretty hard for him to pull the trigger. The “suicidal” note was in fact one where he explained why he left the music industry. Many graph logical experts think that someone else, and not Cobain had added the last four rows in the letter about his wife and his daughter.
Shinys research
A summary of the assassination of Martin Luther King
One of the most tragic and controversial events in Memphis history took place on April 4, 1968. That evening, on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel, civil rights leader Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. King had come to Memphis in support of sanitation workers that were on strike due to poor working conditions and inadequate pay. While in town during this visit, he made his now famous, “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop” speech at the Mason Temple in southwest Memphis. In retrospect, his words were eerily foretelling:
"And then I got to Memphis. And some began to say the threats, or talk about the threats that were out. What would happen to me from some of our sick white brothers? Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. Because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will."
The next day, King and his lawyers spent a great deal of time in court. They were fighting an injunction barring King from leading a protest march. Though the issue was unresolved by the end of the day, King was reportedly looking forward to a dinner at the home of friends in the area. From there, the civil rights leader was scheduled to attend a meeting.
It was about 6:00 p.m. when King went out onto the balcony at the Lorraine Motel to chat with Reverend Jesse Jackson and musician Ben Branch who were in the parking lot below. After talking for a moment, King straightened up from the balcony and turned to go into his motel room. He never made it inside. A shot was fired from across the parking lot, striking the man in his right cheek, shattering his jaw, and then entering his spine. Though King was rushed to St. Joseph’s Hospital nearby, he was pronounced dead at 7:05 p.m. He was only thirty-nine years old and left behind a wife and four children.
In the immediate aftermath of the shooting, attention was focused on a boardinghouse located across the parking lot from the Lorraine Motel. A preliminary investigation uncovered a hunting rifle that was equipped with a scope and a potential suspect. The suspect was a roomer at the boardinghouse who had been seen fleeing down the stairs seconds after the fatal gunshot was fired. He was initially identified as John Willard. When Willard’s white Ford Mustang was discovered in Atlanta days later, fingerprints found in the car matched those found on the rifle used in the assassination. Both sets of fingerprints belonged to an escaped convict named James Earl Ray. Ray had been using multiple aliases, including John Willard.
The authorities finally tracked Ray down in London. He was quickly extradited to Memphis and placed under constant watch in a special cell in the Shelby County jail. This ensured that Ray did not escape, and it also kept him safe from harm before his case went to trial.
At his attorney’s urging, Ray initially pled guilty to the shooting but maintained that the assassination was part of a large conspiracy. He was sentenced to 99 years in prison. Just days later, however, Ray recanted his confession and attempted to revoke his guilty plea, claiming that he had been coerced by his attorney. He took this claim all the way to the United States Supreme Court but was never granted a new trial.
Over the years, a number of conspiracy theories have emerged blaming everyone from the mafia to the U.S. government for the death of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Officially and legally, however, justice has been served. James Earl Ray died in prison in 1998.
One of the most tragic and controversial events in Memphis history took place on April 4, 1968. That evening, on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel, civil rights leader Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. King had come to Memphis in support of sanitation workers that were on strike due to poor working conditions and inadequate pay. While in town during this visit, he made his now famous, “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop” speech at the Mason Temple in southwest Memphis. In retrospect, his words were eerily foretelling:
"And then I got to Memphis. And some began to say the threats, or talk about the threats that were out. What would happen to me from some of our sick white brothers? Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. Because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will."
The next day, King and his lawyers spent a great deal of time in court. They were fighting an injunction barring King from leading a protest march. Though the issue was unresolved by the end of the day, King was reportedly looking forward to a dinner at the home of friends in the area. From there, the civil rights leader was scheduled to attend a meeting.
It was about 6:00 p.m. when King went out onto the balcony at the Lorraine Motel to chat with Reverend Jesse Jackson and musician Ben Branch who were in the parking lot below. After talking for a moment, King straightened up from the balcony and turned to go into his motel room. He never made it inside. A shot was fired from across the parking lot, striking the man in his right cheek, shattering his jaw, and then entering his spine. Though King was rushed to St. Joseph’s Hospital nearby, he was pronounced dead at 7:05 p.m. He was only thirty-nine years old and left behind a wife and four children.
In the immediate aftermath of the shooting, attention was focused on a boardinghouse located across the parking lot from the Lorraine Motel. A preliminary investigation uncovered a hunting rifle that was equipped with a scope and a potential suspect. The suspect was a roomer at the boardinghouse who had been seen fleeing down the stairs seconds after the fatal gunshot was fired. He was initially identified as John Willard. When Willard’s white Ford Mustang was discovered in Atlanta days later, fingerprints found in the car matched those found on the rifle used in the assassination. Both sets of fingerprints belonged to an escaped convict named James Earl Ray. Ray had been using multiple aliases, including John Willard.
The authorities finally tracked Ray down in London. He was quickly extradited to Memphis and placed under constant watch in a special cell in the Shelby County jail. This ensured that Ray did not escape, and it also kept him safe from harm before his case went to trial.
At his attorney’s urging, Ray initially pled guilty to the shooting but maintained that the assassination was part of a large conspiracy. He was sentenced to 99 years in prison. Just days later, however, Ray recanted his confession and attempted to revoke his guilty plea, claiming that he had been coerced by his attorney. He took this claim all the way to the United States Supreme Court but was never granted a new trial.
Over the years, a number of conspiracy theories have emerged blaming everyone from the mafia to the U.S. government for the death of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Officially and legally, however, justice has been served. James Earl Ray died in prison in 1998.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Chantelles Research- A newspaper excerpt and part of a script
An excerpt from a newspaper marking the 4th anniversary of Lincoln’s death:
VOL. IX. - No. 435.]
NEW YORK, SATURDAY, APRIL 29, 1865.
SINGLE COPIES TEN CENTS. [$4,00 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1865, by Harper & Brothers, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York.
The play for the evening was The American Cousin.
BOOTH came upon his errand at about 10 o'clock. He left his horse in charge at the rear of the theatre, and made his way to the President's box. This box is a double one, in the second tier at the left of the stage. When occupied by the Presidential party the separating partition is removed, and the two boxes are thus thrown into one. We give an accurate plan of the box on page 259.—According to Major RATHBONE'S statement, the assassin must have made his preparations in the most deliberate manner beforehand. Of this fact there are at least four proofs, as we shall see: Stealthily approaching the dark passageway leading to the box, BOOTH, after having effected an entrance, closed the hall door, and then, taking a piece of board which he had prepared for the occasion, placed one end of it in an indentation excavated in the wall, about four feet from the floor, and the
other against the moulding of the door-panel a few inches higher. He thus made it impossible for any one to enter from without; and securing himself against intrusion in that direction, he proceeded to the doors of the box. There were two of those. Here also the villain had carefully provided before hand the means by which he might, unnoticed himself, observe the position of the parties inside. With a gimlet, or small bit, he had bored a hole in the door-panel, which he afterward reamed out with his knife, so as to leave it a little larger than a buck-shot on the inside, while on the other side it was sufficiently large to give his eye a wide range. To secure against the doors being locked (they both had spring-locks), he had loosened the screws with (Continued next page)
HARPER'S WEEKLY.
[APRIL 29, 1865.
258
(Previous Page) which the bolt-hasps were fastened. In regard to the next stage of BOOTH'S movements there is some degree of uncertainty. He had been noticed as he passed through the dress-circle by a Mr. FERGUSON, who was sitting on the opposite side of the theatre. This man knew BOOTH, and recognized him. He had been talking with him a short time before. FERGUSON states that when BOOTH reached the door of the corridor leading from the dress-circle to the boxes he halted, " took off his hat, and, holding it in his left hand, leaned against the wall behind him." After remaining thus for the space of half a minute, " he stepped down one step, put his hand on the door of the little corridor leading to the box, bent his knee against it," when the door opened and BOOTH entered. After his entrance to the corridor he was of course invisible to FERGUSON, and, before the fatal shot, was probably seen by no one but the sentry at the door of the corridor. The latter he is said to have passed on the plea that the President had sent for him. What passed before the shot is only conjecturable. He made his observations, doubtless, through the aperture in the door provided for that purpose. And here we come upon another proof of a deliberately-prepared plan. The very seats in the box had been arranged to suit his purpose, either by himself or, as is more likely, by some attaché of the theatre in complicity with him. The President sat in the left-hand corner of the box, nearest the audience, in an easy armchair. Next to him, on the right, sat Mrs. LINCOLN, Some distance to the right of both Miss HARRIS was seated, with Major RATHBONE at her left and a little in the rear of Mrs. LINCOLN. BOOTH rapidly surveyed the situation. The play had reached the second scene of the third act. Mrs. LINCOLN, intent on the play, was leaning forward, with one hand resting on her husband's knee. The President was leaning upon one hand, and with the other was adjusting a portion of the drapery, his face wearing a pleasant smile as it was partially turned to the audience. As to the act of assassination, there are two conflicting statements. According to one, BOOTH fired through the door at the left, which was closed. But this seems to have been unnecessary; and it is far more probable that he entered rapidly through the door at the right, and the next moment fired. The ball entered just behind the President's left ear, and though not producing instantaneous death completely obliterated all consciousness.
Major RATHBONE hearing the report, saw the assassin about six feet distant from the President, and encountered him ; but BOOTH shook off his grasp. The latter had dropped his weapon—an ordinary pocket-pistol -and had drawn a long glittering knife, with which he inflicted a wound upon the Major; and then, resting his left hand upon the railing, vaulted over easily to the stage, eight or nine feet below. As he passed between the folds of the flag decorating the box, his spur, which he wore on the right heel, caught the drapery and brought it down. He crouched as he fell, falling upon one knee, but quickly gained an up-right position, and staggered in a theatrical manner across the stage, brandishing his knife, and shouting, "Sic semper tyrannis!" He made his exit by the "tormentor" on the opposite side of the stage, passing MISS KEENE as he went out. The villain succeeded in making his escape without arrest. In this he was probably assisted by accomplices and by MOSBY'S guerillas. The President was immediately removed to the house of Mr. PETERSON, opposite the theatre, where he died at twenty-two minutes past seven the next morning, never having recovered his consciousness since the fatal shot. In his last hours he was attended by his wife and his son ROBERT, and prominent members of his Cabinet. His death has plunged the nation into deepest mourning, but his spirit still animates the people for whom he died.
PLAN OF THE BOX OCCUPIED BY PRESIDENT LINCOLN AT FORD'S THEATER, APRIL 14, 1865
0. Dark Corridor leading from the Dress Circle to Box.—H. Entrance to Corridor. I. The bar used by Booth to prevent entrance from without.—J. Dress Circle.—K. The Parquette.—L. The Foot-lights.—M. The Stage.—F. Open door to the President's Box.--G. Closed door.--N. Place where Booth vaulted over to the Stage below
Act III, Scene 2 of The American Cousin, the scene, during which, Lincoln was assassinated:
Scene 2.--Chamber as before.
Enter Mrs. Montchessington, and Augusta, L. 1 E.
Mrs M: Yes, my child, while Mr. De Boots and Mr. Trenchard are both here,
you must ask yourself seriously, as to the state of your affections,
remember, your happiness for life will depend upon the choice you make.
Aug: What would you advise, mamma? You know I am always advised by you.
Mrs M: Dear, obedient child. De Boots has excellent expectations,
but then they are only expectations after all. This American is rich,
and on the whole I think a well regulated affection ought to incline
to Asa Trenchard.
Aug: Very well, mamma.
Mrs M: At the same time, you must be cautious, or in grasping at
Asa Trenchard's solid good qualities, you may miss them,
and De Boots expectations into the bargain.
Aug: Oh, I will take care not to give up my hold on
poor De Boots 'till I am quite sure of the American.
Mrs M: That's my own girl. [Enter Asa L.] Ah, Mr. Trenchard,
we were just talking of your archery powers.
Asa: Wal, I guess shooting with bows and arrows is just about like
most things in life, all you've got to do is keep the sun out of your eyes,
look straight--pull strong--calculate the distance, and you're sure to hit
the mark in most things as well as shooting.
Aug: But not in England, Mr. Trenchard. There are disinterested hearts
that only ask an opportunity of showing how they despise that gold,
which others set such store by.
Asa :Wal, I suppose there are, Miss Gusty.
Aug: All I crave is affection.
Asa :[Crosses to C.] Do you, now? I wish I could make sure of that,
for I've been cruelly disappointed in that particular.
Mrs M: Yes, but we are old friends, Mr. Trenchard, and you needn't
be afraid of us.
Asa: Oh, I ain't afraid of you--both on you together.
Mrs M: People sometimes look a great way off, for that which is near at hand.
[Glancing at Augusta and Asa alternatively.]
Asa: You don't mean, Miss Gusta. [Augusta casts sheeps eyes at him.]
Now, don't look at me in that way. I can't stand it, if you do, I'll bust.
Mrs M: Oh, if you only knew how refreshing this ingenuousness of yours
is to an old woman of the world like me.
Asa :Be you an old woman of the world?
Mrs M: Yes, sir.
Aug: Oh yes.
Asa: Well I don't doubt it in the least. [Aside.] This gal and
the old woman are trying to get me on a string. [Aloud.] Wal,
then, if a rough spun fellow like me was to come forward as a suitor
for you daughter's hand, you wouldn't treat me as some folks do,
when they find out I wasn't heir to the fortune.
Mrs M: Not heir to the fortune, Mr. Trenchard?
Asa: Oh, no.
Aug: What, no fortune?
Asa: Nary red, it all comes to their barkin up the wrong tree about
the old man's property.
Mrs M: Which he left to you.
Asa: Oh, no.
Aug: Not to you?
Asa: No, which he meant to leave to me, but he thought better on it,
and left it to his granddaughter Miss Mary Meredith.
Mrs M: Miss Mary Meredith! Oh, I'm delighted.
Aug: Delighted?
Asa: Yes, you both look tickled to death. Now, some gals,
and mothers would go away from a fellow when they found that out,
but you don't valley fortune, Miss Gusty?
Mrs M :[Aside, crosses to Aug.] My love, you had better go.
Asa: You crave affection, _you_ do. Now I've no fortune, but I'm
filling over with affections which I'm ready to pour out all over
you like apple sass, over roast pork.
Mrs M: Mr. Trenchard, you will please recollect you are addressing
my daughter, and in my presence.
Asa: Yes, I'm offering her my heart and hand just as she wants them
with nothing in 'em.
Mrs M: Augusta, dear, to your room.
Aug: Yes, ma, the nasty beast. [Exit R.]
Mrs M: I am aware, Mr. Trenchard, you are not used to the manners
of good society, and that, alone, will excuse the impertinence
of which you have been guilty.
VOL. IX. - No. 435.]
NEW YORK, SATURDAY, APRIL 29, 1865.
SINGLE COPIES TEN CENTS. [$4,00 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1865, by Harper & Brothers, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York.
The play for the evening was The American Cousin.
BOOTH came upon his errand at about 10 o'clock. He left his horse in charge at the rear of the theatre, and made his way to the President's box. This box is a double one, in the second tier at the left of the stage. When occupied by the Presidential party the separating partition is removed, and the two boxes are thus thrown into one. We give an accurate plan of the box on page 259.—According to Major RATHBONE'S statement, the assassin must have made his preparations in the most deliberate manner beforehand. Of this fact there are at least four proofs, as we shall see: Stealthily approaching the dark passageway leading to the box, BOOTH, after having effected an entrance, closed the hall door, and then, taking a piece of board which he had prepared for the occasion, placed one end of it in an indentation excavated in the wall, about four feet from the floor, and the
other against the moulding of the door-panel a few inches higher. He thus made it impossible for any one to enter from without; and securing himself against intrusion in that direction, he proceeded to the doors of the box. There were two of those. Here also the villain had carefully provided before hand the means by which he might, unnoticed himself, observe the position of the parties inside. With a gimlet, or small bit, he had bored a hole in the door-panel, which he afterward reamed out with his knife, so as to leave it a little larger than a buck-shot on the inside, while on the other side it was sufficiently large to give his eye a wide range. To secure against the doors being locked (they both had spring-locks), he had loosened the screws with (Continued next page)
HARPER'S WEEKLY.
[APRIL 29, 1865.
258
(Previous Page) which the bolt-hasps were fastened. In regard to the next stage of BOOTH'S movements there is some degree of uncertainty. He had been noticed as he passed through the dress-circle by a Mr. FERGUSON, who was sitting on the opposite side of the theatre. This man knew BOOTH, and recognized him. He had been talking with him a short time before. FERGUSON states that when BOOTH reached the door of the corridor leading from the dress-circle to the boxes he halted, " took off his hat, and, holding it in his left hand, leaned against the wall behind him." After remaining thus for the space of half a minute, " he stepped down one step, put his hand on the door of the little corridor leading to the box, bent his knee against it," when the door opened and BOOTH entered. After his entrance to the corridor he was of course invisible to FERGUSON, and, before the fatal shot, was probably seen by no one but the sentry at the door of the corridor. The latter he is said to have passed on the plea that the President had sent for him. What passed before the shot is only conjecturable. He made his observations, doubtless, through the aperture in the door provided for that purpose. And here we come upon another proof of a deliberately-prepared plan. The very seats in the box had been arranged to suit his purpose, either by himself or, as is more likely, by some attaché of the theatre in complicity with him. The President sat in the left-hand corner of the box, nearest the audience, in an easy armchair. Next to him, on the right, sat Mrs. LINCOLN, Some distance to the right of both Miss HARRIS was seated, with Major RATHBONE at her left and a little in the rear of Mrs. LINCOLN. BOOTH rapidly surveyed the situation. The play had reached the second scene of the third act. Mrs. LINCOLN, intent on the play, was leaning forward, with one hand resting on her husband's knee. The President was leaning upon one hand, and with the other was adjusting a portion of the drapery, his face wearing a pleasant smile as it was partially turned to the audience. As to the act of assassination, there are two conflicting statements. According to one, BOOTH fired through the door at the left, which was closed. But this seems to have been unnecessary; and it is far more probable that he entered rapidly through the door at the right, and the next moment fired. The ball entered just behind the President's left ear, and though not producing instantaneous death completely obliterated all consciousness.
Major RATHBONE hearing the report, saw the assassin about six feet distant from the President, and encountered him ; but BOOTH shook off his grasp. The latter had dropped his weapon—an ordinary pocket-pistol -and had drawn a long glittering knife, with which he inflicted a wound upon the Major; and then, resting his left hand upon the railing, vaulted over easily to the stage, eight or nine feet below. As he passed between the folds of the flag decorating the box, his spur, which he wore on the right heel, caught the drapery and brought it down. He crouched as he fell, falling upon one knee, but quickly gained an up-right position, and staggered in a theatrical manner across the stage, brandishing his knife, and shouting, "Sic semper tyrannis!" He made his exit by the "tormentor" on the opposite side of the stage, passing MISS KEENE as he went out. The villain succeeded in making his escape without arrest. In this he was probably assisted by accomplices and by MOSBY'S guerillas. The President was immediately removed to the house of Mr. PETERSON, opposite the theatre, where he died at twenty-two minutes past seven the next morning, never having recovered his consciousness since the fatal shot. In his last hours he was attended by his wife and his son ROBERT, and prominent members of his Cabinet. His death has plunged the nation into deepest mourning, but his spirit still animates the people for whom he died.
PLAN OF THE BOX OCCUPIED BY PRESIDENT LINCOLN AT FORD'S THEATER, APRIL 14, 1865
0. Dark Corridor leading from the Dress Circle to Box.—H. Entrance to Corridor. I. The bar used by Booth to prevent entrance from without.—J. Dress Circle.—K. The Parquette.—L. The Foot-lights.—M. The Stage.—F. Open door to the President's Box.--G. Closed door.--N. Place where Booth vaulted over to the Stage below
Act III, Scene 2 of The American Cousin, the scene, during which, Lincoln was assassinated:
Scene 2.--Chamber as before.
Enter Mrs. Montchessington, and Augusta, L. 1 E.
Mrs M: Yes, my child, while Mr. De Boots and Mr. Trenchard are both here,
you must ask yourself seriously, as to the state of your affections,
remember, your happiness for life will depend upon the choice you make.
Aug: What would you advise, mamma? You know I am always advised by you.
Mrs M: Dear, obedient child. De Boots has excellent expectations,
but then they are only expectations after all. This American is rich,
and on the whole I think a well regulated affection ought to incline
to Asa Trenchard.
Aug: Very well, mamma.
Mrs M: At the same time, you must be cautious, or in grasping at
Asa Trenchard's solid good qualities, you may miss them,
and De Boots expectations into the bargain.
Aug: Oh, I will take care not to give up my hold on
poor De Boots 'till I am quite sure of the American.
Mrs M: That's my own girl. [Enter Asa L.] Ah, Mr. Trenchard,
we were just talking of your archery powers.
Asa: Wal, I guess shooting with bows and arrows is just about like
most things in life, all you've got to do is keep the sun out of your eyes,
look straight--pull strong--calculate the distance, and you're sure to hit
the mark in most things as well as shooting.
Aug: But not in England, Mr. Trenchard. There are disinterested hearts
that only ask an opportunity of showing how they despise that gold,
which others set such store by.
Asa :Wal, I suppose there are, Miss Gusty.
Aug: All I crave is affection.
Asa :[Crosses to C.] Do you, now? I wish I could make sure of that,
for I've been cruelly disappointed in that particular.
Mrs M: Yes, but we are old friends, Mr. Trenchard, and you needn't
be afraid of us.
Asa: Oh, I ain't afraid of you--both on you together.
Mrs M: People sometimes look a great way off, for that which is near at hand.
[Glancing at Augusta and Asa alternatively.]
Asa: You don't mean, Miss Gusta. [Augusta casts sheeps eyes at him.]
Now, don't look at me in that way. I can't stand it, if you do, I'll bust.
Mrs M: Oh, if you only knew how refreshing this ingenuousness of yours
is to an old woman of the world like me.
Asa :Be you an old woman of the world?
Mrs M: Yes, sir.
Aug: Oh yes.
Asa: Well I don't doubt it in the least. [Aside.] This gal and
the old woman are trying to get me on a string. [Aloud.] Wal,
then, if a rough spun fellow like me was to come forward as a suitor
for you daughter's hand, you wouldn't treat me as some folks do,
when they find out I wasn't heir to the fortune.
Mrs M: Not heir to the fortune, Mr. Trenchard?
Asa: Oh, no.
Aug: What, no fortune?
Asa: Nary red, it all comes to their barkin up the wrong tree about
the old man's property.
Mrs M: Which he left to you.
Asa: Oh, no.
Aug: Not to you?
Asa: No, which he meant to leave to me, but he thought better on it,
and left it to his granddaughter Miss Mary Meredith.
Mrs M: Miss Mary Meredith! Oh, I'm delighted.
Aug: Delighted?
Asa: Yes, you both look tickled to death. Now, some gals,
and mothers would go away from a fellow when they found that out,
but you don't valley fortune, Miss Gusty?
Mrs M :[Aside, crosses to Aug.] My love, you had better go.
Asa: You crave affection, _you_ do. Now I've no fortune, but I'm
filling over with affections which I'm ready to pour out all over
you like apple sass, over roast pork.
Mrs M: Mr. Trenchard, you will please recollect you are addressing
my daughter, and in my presence.
Asa: Yes, I'm offering her my heart and hand just as she wants them
with nothing in 'em.
Mrs M: Augusta, dear, to your room.
Aug: Yes, ma, the nasty beast. [Exit R.]
Mrs M: I am aware, Mr. Trenchard, you are not used to the manners
of good society, and that, alone, will excuse the impertinence
of which you have been guilty.
(This is the point where Lincoln was shot.)
Asa: Don't know the manners of good society, eh? Well,
I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal--
you sockdologizing old man-trap. Wal, now, when I think
what I've thrown away in hard cash to-day I'm apt to call myself
some awful hard names, 400,000 dollars is a big pile for a man
to light his cigar with. If that gal had only given me herself
in exchange, it wouldn't have been a bad bargain. But I dare
no more ask that gal to be my wife, than I dare ask Queen Victoria
to dance a Cape Cod reel.
Enter Florence, L. 1 E.
Flo: What do you mean by doing all these dreadful things?
Asa: Which things.
Flo: Come here sir. [He does so.]
Asa: What's the matter?
Flo: Do you know this piece of paper? [Showing burnt paper.]
Asa: Well I think I have seen it before. [Aside.]
Its old Mark Trenchard's will that I left half burned up like a landhead,
that I am.
Flo: And you're determined to give up this fortune to Mary Meredith?
Asa: Well, I couldn't help it if I tried.
Flo: Oh, don't say that.
Asa: I didn't mean to do it when I first came here--hadn't the least idea
in the world of it, but when I saw that everlasting angel of a gal
movin around among them doing fixins like a sunbeam in a shady place;
and when I pictured her without a dollar in the world--I--
well my old Adam riz right up, and I said, ``Asa do it''--and I did it.
Flo: Well, I don't know who your old Adam may be, but whoever it is,
he's a very honest man to consult you to do so good an action.
But how dare you do such an outrageous thing? you impudent--
you unceremonious, oh! you unselfish man! you! you, you!
[Smothers him with kisses, and runs off, R. 1 E.]
Asa: Well, if that ain't worth four hundred thousand dollars,
I don't know what is, it was sweeter than sweet cider right out of
the bung hole. Let me see how things stand round here.
Thanks to old whiskers I've got that ship for the sailor man,
and that makes him and Miss Florence all hunk. Then there's that
darned old Coyle. Well I guess me and old Murcott can fix his flint for him.
Then there's--[Looks off, L.] Christopher Columbus, here comes Mary.
Enter Mary, L. 1 E.
Mary: Mr. Trenchard, what can I say to you but offer you
my lifelong gratitude.
Asa: Don't now, Miss, don't--
Mary: If I knew what else to offer. Heaven knows there is nothing
that is mine to give that I would keep back.
Asa: Give me yourself. [Bus.] I know what a rude, ill-mannered block I am;
but there's a heart inside me worth something, if it's only for
the sake of your dear little image, that's planted right plump
in the middle of it.
Mary: Asa Trenchard, there is my hand, and my heart is in it.
Asa: [Seizes here hand, then drops it suddenly.] Miss Mary,
I made what folks call a big sacrifice for you, this morning.
Oh! I know it, I ain't so modest, but that I know it.
Now what's this you're doing? Is this sacrifice you are making
out of gratitude for me? Cause if it is, I wouldn't have it,
though not to have it would nigh break my heart, tough as it is.
Mary: No, no, I give myself freely to you--as freely as you,
this morning, gave my grandfather's property to me.
Asa: Say it again, last of hope and blessed promise.
[Clasps her in his arms.] Mary, there's something tells me
that you'll not repent it. I'm rough, Mary, awful rough,
but you needn't fear that I'll ever be rough to you.
I've camped out in the woods, Mary, often and often,
and seen the bears at play with their cubs in the moonlight,
the glistening teeth, that would tear the hunter,
was harmless to them; the big strong claws that would peel a man's head,
as a knife would a pumpkin, was as soft for them as velvet cushions,
and that's what I'll be with you, my own little wife; and if ever harm
does come to you, it must come over the dead body of Asa Trenchard.
Mary: I know it Asa; and if I do not prove a true and loving wife to you;
may my mother's bright spirit never look down to bless her child.
Asa :Wal, if I don't get out in the air, I'll bust.
[Exit hastily R. 1 E. pulling Mary after him.]
Enter Binny, L. 1 E. Drunk.
Binny: [Calling.] Mr. H'Asa, Mr. H'Asa! Oh he's gone;
well, I suppose he'll come back to keep his happointment.
Mr. Coyle's quite impatient. It isn't hoften that han hamerican has
the run of the wine cellars of Trenchard Manor, and in such company, too.
There's me and Mr. Coyle, which is a good judge of old port wine,
and he knows it when he drinks; and his clerk, Mr. Murcott,
which I don't hexactly like sitting down with clerks. But Mr. H'Asa
wished it and Mr. Coyle hadn't any objections, so in course
I put my feelings in my pocket, besides, Murcott is a man of hedication,
though unfortunately taken to drink. Well, what of that,
it's been many a man's misfortune, though I say it, what shouldn't say it,
being a butler. But now to join my distinguished party. [Exit, R. 1 E.]
Asa: Don't know the manners of good society, eh? Well,
I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal--
you sockdologizing old man-trap. Wal, now, when I think
what I've thrown away in hard cash to-day I'm apt to call myself
some awful hard names, 400,000 dollars is a big pile for a man
to light his cigar with. If that gal had only given me herself
in exchange, it wouldn't have been a bad bargain. But I dare
no more ask that gal to be my wife, than I dare ask Queen Victoria
to dance a Cape Cod reel.
Enter Florence, L. 1 E.
Flo: What do you mean by doing all these dreadful things?
Asa: Which things.
Flo: Come here sir. [He does so.]
Asa: What's the matter?
Flo: Do you know this piece of paper? [Showing burnt paper.]
Asa: Well I think I have seen it before. [Aside.]
Its old Mark Trenchard's will that I left half burned up like a landhead,
that I am.
Flo: And you're determined to give up this fortune to Mary Meredith?
Asa: Well, I couldn't help it if I tried.
Flo: Oh, don't say that.
Asa: I didn't mean to do it when I first came here--hadn't the least idea
in the world of it, but when I saw that everlasting angel of a gal
movin around among them doing fixins like a sunbeam in a shady place;
and when I pictured her without a dollar in the world--I--
well my old Adam riz right up, and I said, ``Asa do it''--and I did it.
Flo: Well, I don't know who your old Adam may be, but whoever it is,
he's a very honest man to consult you to do so good an action.
But how dare you do such an outrageous thing? you impudent--
you unceremonious, oh! you unselfish man! you! you, you!
[Smothers him with kisses, and runs off, R. 1 E.]
Asa: Well, if that ain't worth four hundred thousand dollars,
I don't know what is, it was sweeter than sweet cider right out of
the bung hole. Let me see how things stand round here.
Thanks to old whiskers I've got that ship for the sailor man,
and that makes him and Miss Florence all hunk. Then there's that
darned old Coyle. Well I guess me and old Murcott can fix his flint for him.
Then there's--[Looks off, L.] Christopher Columbus, here comes Mary.
Enter Mary, L. 1 E.
Mary: Mr. Trenchard, what can I say to you but offer you
my lifelong gratitude.
Asa: Don't now, Miss, don't--
Mary: If I knew what else to offer. Heaven knows there is nothing
that is mine to give that I would keep back.
Asa: Give me yourself. [Bus.] I know what a rude, ill-mannered block I am;
but there's a heart inside me worth something, if it's only for
the sake of your dear little image, that's planted right plump
in the middle of it.
Mary: Asa Trenchard, there is my hand, and my heart is in it.
Asa: [Seizes here hand, then drops it suddenly.] Miss Mary,
I made what folks call a big sacrifice for you, this morning.
Oh! I know it, I ain't so modest, but that I know it.
Now what's this you're doing? Is this sacrifice you are making
out of gratitude for me? Cause if it is, I wouldn't have it,
though not to have it would nigh break my heart, tough as it is.
Mary: No, no, I give myself freely to you--as freely as you,
this morning, gave my grandfather's property to me.
Asa: Say it again, last of hope and blessed promise.
[Clasps her in his arms.] Mary, there's something tells me
that you'll not repent it. I'm rough, Mary, awful rough,
but you needn't fear that I'll ever be rough to you.
I've camped out in the woods, Mary, often and often,
and seen the bears at play with their cubs in the moonlight,
the glistening teeth, that would tear the hunter,
was harmless to them; the big strong claws that would peel a man's head,
as a knife would a pumpkin, was as soft for them as velvet cushions,
and that's what I'll be with you, my own little wife; and if ever harm
does come to you, it must come over the dead body of Asa Trenchard.
Mary: I know it Asa; and if I do not prove a true and loving wife to you;
may my mother's bright spirit never look down to bless her child.
Asa :Wal, if I don't get out in the air, I'll bust.
[Exit hastily R. 1 E. pulling Mary after him.]
Enter Binny, L. 1 E. Drunk.
Binny: [Calling.] Mr. H'Asa, Mr. H'Asa! Oh he's gone;
well, I suppose he'll come back to keep his happointment.
Mr. Coyle's quite impatient. It isn't hoften that han hamerican has
the run of the wine cellars of Trenchard Manor, and in such company, too.
There's me and Mr. Coyle, which is a good judge of old port wine,
and he knows it when he drinks; and his clerk, Mr. Murcott,
which I don't hexactly like sitting down with clerks. But Mr. H'Asa
wished it and Mr. Coyle hadn't any objections, so in course
I put my feelings in my pocket, besides, Murcott is a man of hedication,
though unfortunately taken to drink. Well, what of that,
it's been many a man's misfortune, though I say it, what shouldn't say it,
being a butler. But now to join my distinguished party. [Exit, R. 1 E.]
Monday, September 28, 2009
Introduction
When Abraham Lincoln was assassinated on 14 April 1865, the US Government formed The Assassination Committee, to research the events surrounding his assassination and to find out who was involved in the conspiracy so they could be brought to justice.
You are The Assassination Committee, please use this blog to post at least one piece of research about the Lincoln assassination or other examples of assassinations from recent history. This will inform our workshop on Friday and act as a stimulus for your devising process. I look forward to meeting you and working with you on the project.
Best
Michael
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