Thomas Foster, the editor of the Daily Herald of Shenandoah—who wrote that the first time a Molly Maguire was “strung up” would “strike terror into the hearts of his cowardly associates”40—was not the only one who recommended such tactics. Even before the murders of Sanger, Uren, and Jones, Allan Pinkerton had advocated vigilantism to give the Molly Maguires “their just deserts.” This was nothing new, because there is evidence that Pinkerton’s not only cooperated with the men who lynched the Renos, but were involved in vigilante tactics to terminate the James-Younger gang.41 Despite bad publicity from the latter affair, Pinkerton still believed in such tactics, and in a letter to George Bangs, he directed:
If Linden can get up vigilence committee that can be relied upon, do so. When M.M.’s meet, then surround and deal summarily with them. Get off quietly. All should be securely masked. . . . The M.M.’s are a species of Thugs. . . . They are bound to stick by their oath, and to carry out their revenge. He, who they think does a wrong, is marked out, and he must die. It is impossible to believe that a jury in the mining districts would not give a verdict of guilty against the M.M.’s should they be brought to trial but I believe that some one on the jury would hang on, and get the guilty men to escape. The only way then to pursue that I can see is, to treat them in the same manner as the Reno’s were treated.42
This was all very well for Pinkerton, but the idea had to give McParlan pause, because he might well have found a rope around his neck. In the aftermath of the Jones murder, Linden informed him that people on the street “began to say to each other, ‘What a shame that such a fellow (this means you, McParlan) is allowed to live! He ought to be strung up!’ You need to keep a sharp lookout, wherever you are.”43
Yet, whereas one might expect such widespread opinion to have encouraged McParlan to make his final reports and leave the anthracite region for safety, it encouraged him instead to hold fast with his investigation. “He knew that, if the excited people of the vicinity could only be aware of his true purposes, they would willingly carry him in their arms, or draw him in a carriage, shielding him from harm with their own bodies,” wrote Pinkerton, “and this inward consciousness of rectitude . . . kept his head above water and steadied his nerves while he continued his professional work. He knew that, if he lived yet a little longer, the residents of Schuylkill, Carbon, Columbia, and Luzerne Counties would praise him and bless him.”44
Such psychological support was a major factor in McParlan’s determination to continue an operation that was so stressful, dangerous, and scary that even the hard-drinking, obstinate, and supremely arrogant brawler that he was became worn down and suffered extreme stress reactions. The most obvious of these was that throughout the summer—as he was drawn deeper and deeper into plots, decisions, and last-minute adjustments, and found himself worrying more and more about making a mistake that would expose his role—his hair had been coming out in clumps. This condition has since been named alopecia totalis, and is marked by a loss of all head hair, including, in McParlan’s case, his eyelashes and eyebrows. Although currently considered an autoimmune disorder, it can be set off by extreme stress, such as that from which McParlan suffered.45
The response from others to McParlan’s condition was variable. Linden, seeing it with a little levity, stated: “I called him a ‘Billiard Ball’ . . . [b]ecause there was no hair on his head and he has a very large head for a small man, and I remarked in a saloon in Shenandoah, that somebody would take it and use it for a billiard ball.”46 Franklin, on the other hand, not knowing what other impacts such stress can have, was concerned that the condition would leave the detective “too conspicuous” in an environment in which he was becoming increasingly at-risk from vigilante operations. Therefore, the week after the Jones murder, he met McParlan at the Exchange Hotel in Pottsville, following which he sent him to see a doctor. The physician, not surprisingly, had no cure.
From Pottsville, McParlan traveled to Philadelphia, and after four days of intensive meetings he went to New York, where he prepared a list of 348 AOH members in Schuylkill, Luzerne, Carbon, Columbia, and Northumberland counties, organized by the town or patch in which they lived.47 This printed document was widely distributed to newspapers by Pinkerton’s, but not long thereafter an even more powerful one-page handbill was released. Headed “Strictly Confidential” and offered “for the consideration of the Vigilance Committee of the Anthracite Coal Region, and all other good citizens who desire to preserve law and order,” it detailed six murders attributed to the Molly Maguires since the end of the Long Strike as well as the attempted murder of Thomas, in each case naming the assailants and giving their addresses.48 The document was, in essence, an invitation for vigilantes to act.
McParlan feared that vigilante action might be directed toward himself, and he did not stay in Schuylkill County long upon his return from New York. After meeting Linden, he took the train to Wilkes-Barre in Luzerne County, supposedly to raise money for the defense of Kelly, Doyle, and Kerrigan—for which he contributed two dollars himself, claiming it back as expenses. Pinkerton indicated, however, that his ace detective had gone to Wilkes-Barre to receive treatment from “an eminent physician.”49 McParlan’s health had declined radically, this time with symptoms such as dyspepsia, tension headaches, sleep disorders, gastrointestinal problems, fatigue, and, apparently, a decreased ability of his immune system to respond—all of which can be related to chronic stress.50 As a result, in early October McParlan was ordered to avoid taxing himself unnecessarily, only a small step in the right direction, as “his attending physician seriously objects to his going out at all.”51
• • •
While McParlan convalesced, Linden remained actively engaged in investigating the murders. However, his inquiries were not made easier when one of his special policemen killed a man who shot at him rather than submit to questioning. The officer was held for trial, and although he was eventually absolved of any wrongdoing, the incident forced Linden to disclose that he and his men were Pinkerton’s operatives.52
Linden also held a series of meetings, which included Foster and reporter Tom Fielders of the Daily Herald, that are, in light of subsequent events, quite suspicious. Linden thereafter reported that he “has visited different places in the coal regions with the view of giving necessary information to some of the leading citizens, advising them as to who the parties are who have committed the recent assassinations . . . in order to place them fully on their guard against these outlaws, but as yet there seems to be so much apathy . . . that no definite steps have been taken to make examples of the well known assassins.”53 The result of Linden’s efforts were, arguably, made clear by a letter to the editor from John Kehoe, complaining that Foster and the Daily Herald were inventing the coffin notices that appeared in the paper and otherwise inciting violence and instigating vigilantism.54
It was more than newspaper attacks that made Schuylkill County so dangerous, however, as personal assaults continued unabated. Few nights were worse than October 9, when, in Shenandoah alone, Irishman Richard Finnen was shot above the right eye, fifteen bullets were fired into Muff Lawler’s saloon, and Welshman James Johns was shot in the back, had his throat cut from ear to ear, and was set alight.55
In the midst of such unrelenting violence, McParlan traveled to Mauch Chunk for the beginning of the Jones murder trial, having already submitted reports about a series of defense witnesses scheduled to testify that they had seen Kelly and Doyle elsewhere at the time of the murder.56 Once at court, the defense scored what seemed a victory, as, although a change of venue was denied, a delay was granted until January 1876, allowing more time for the potential intimidation of prosecution witnesses and the creation of additional alibis.
Upon his return to Shenandoah, McParlan discovered that Hurley had been arrested for his role in the attacks on Bully Bill Thomas and James Johns.57 Although still unwell, and ordered by his doctor to stay indoors,58 one night McParlan dragged
himself to Carroll’s saloon, where “the subject of a traitor among them came up. They all seem to suspicion Lawler, and all wished ‘to God’ that the operative had his health, as they were sure if he could work at it he could find who the traitor was, as he was sharper than most of them.”59
Unease over the potential traitor persisted throughout the following weeks, making McParlan increasingly uncomfortable. Meanwhile, Hurley was released on bail and promptly vanished. McParlan saw him in Wilkes-Barre and gave him his bull terrier, trained for the pit, which it was rumored Hurley sold for ten dollars to help him disappear for good.60 Not long thereafter, while at a footrace, Kehoe, who had paid attorney Martin L’Velle forty dollars to represent Hurley, told McParlan with intense annoyance that Hurley had now “jumped his bail, and he would hunt him up if he had to go to California.”61
With such anger, suspicion, and lack of trust spreading through the AOH lodges, it appeared that tensions were close to boiling over. And on a frigid December night, they exploded.
• • •
Early on the morning of December 10, most inhabitants of the tiny hamlet of Wiggans Patch were asleep, including those in the house belonging to widow Margaret O’Donnell.62 It was a large house, divided into a duplex by a partition wall. On one side lived the Cassidy family, on the other side that night were ten people, including, in a ground-floor room, Mrs. O’Donnell’s pregnant daughter, Ellen; Ellen’s husband, Charles McAllister; and their fifteen-month-old child. Upstairs were widow O’Donnell, her sons Charles and James “Friday” O’Donnell, and four lodgers: James Blair, Tom Murphy, John Purcell, and James McAllister, brother of Charles.
At three o’clock, Charles McAllister “was awakened up & heard a rush for the house, there were shots fired.” Immediately thereafter, the kitchen door was broken in and a group of men in long oilskin coats and masks stormed into the house. McAllister leaped out of bed, told his wife not to move, and raced down the stairs from the bedroom to the cellar. Panicked, Ellen opened the door to the back room, where one of the vigilantes saw her white-clad outline and shot her in the chest. McAllister heard her cry that she had been hit but continued into the cellar, where he pulled two boards off the dividing wall and went into the Cassidys’ side to hide.
Meanwhile, in an organized fashion, teams of men rushed to the two upstairs bedrooms. In the back room, illuminated by only the light of the moon, Margaret O’Donnell was struck with “the butt end of a pistol.” Her son Friday, who shared the room, was dragged downstairs.
Six or seven masked men burst into the large, front upstairs room. Two of the invaders forced Charles O’Donnell out of bed and tied John Purcell, who was sharing it, hand and foot to the bedpost. When Thomas Murphy asked their intentions, a man said, “[P]ut your hands above the clothes or else I will blow a hole through you.” But another invader with a lantern “told the man not to meddle with me, I was an old man.” Meanwhile, James Blair was taken downstairs with a rope around his neck, only to be released after revealing his name. James McAllister was also dragged downstairs but managed to struggle free and ran toward the nearby woods. Although a hail of shots followed him, and he was struck in the shoulder, he disappeared into the night.
Friday O’Donnell also escaped without injury, but the same could not be said for his brother. Taken outside, Charles, too, broke loose, but this time the fusillade of bullets did not miss, and he fell, wounded. Men came up to his prostrate body and riddled him with lead. As the killers melted away a neighbor ran over to find O’Donnell “lying with his face down and his clothes burning.” According to a reporter, “The head, which had received no less than fifteen bullets and was in a shockingly crushed condition, was tied up in a white cloth. From the hips to the chin the body was crisped, there being no less than the marks of ten balls to be seen, and the firearms must have been held in such close proximity that the powder had actually roasted the flesh.”63
Shortly after sunrise, a note as rough in its writing as in its message was discovered: “You are the murderers of Uren and Sanger.”64 Within hours the coroner arrived from Mahanoy City, impaneled a jury, and, with Foster recording the statements, heard testimony in the O’Donnell house. Margaret O’Donnell was about to respond to the coroner’s question about whether she recognized anyone when John Kehoe—another son-in-law—arrived and ordered her not to answer, reportedly telling the coroner: “[T]his business is going to be settled in another manner.”65
Later that day, after talking to Mrs. O’Donnell, Kehoe brought charges against Frank Wenrich, a butcher and former burgess of Mahanoy City, for assaulting his mother-in-law, who now swore she recognized him. The butcher was taken to Pottsville, where, at a habeas corpus hearing three days later, she identified him. However, when District Attorney George Kaercher asked her if Kehoe had told her to say she recognized him, she answered, “Yes.” With such murky testimony, the judge released Wenrich on bail, and, upon returning to Mahanoy City, he was met by three hundred people celebrating his freedom.66
Although Kehoe’s efforts apparently had been thwarted, he was, according to McParlan, just biding his time. The detective reported that on the day of the habeas corpus hearing Kehoe said “he had not a doubt that Winrich was one of the men, but he did not want him prosecuted, as he knew very well it would not be a fair trial, and he would rather let the affair blow over a little . . . He also said that Winrichs little girl told the day after the murders, that her papa had his face blacked the night before.”67
That McParlan would even be filing reports had been a major concern for his superiors. The day before the events at Wiggans Patch he had visited Danny Hughes’s saloon in Pottsville. He awoke there the next morning to learn of the murders, and in what was obviously an overly emotional state driven in part by the stress of his own situation, he blasted off an indignant and, at points, inaccurate letter:
This morning at 8 AM I heard that a crowd of masked men had entered Mrs ODonnells house Wiggans Patch and had killed James ODonnell Alias Friday, Chas ODonnell & James MacAllister, also Mrs MacAllister whom they took out of the house and shot (Chas MacAllisters Wife). Now as for the ODonnells I am satisfied they got their just deservings. I reported what those men were. I give all information about them so clear that the courts could have taken hold of their case at anytime but the witnesses were too cowardly to do it. I have also in the interests of God and humanity notified you months before some of those outrages were committed. Still the authorities took no hold of the matter. Now I wake up this morning to find that I am the murderer of Mrs MacAllister. what had a woman to do in the case. did the Sleepers in their worst time shoot down women. If I was not here the Vigilant Committee would not know who was guilty and when I find them shooting women in their thirst for blood, I hereby tender my resignation to take effect as soon as this message is received. If there is any other job in the Agency that you may want me for I will accept it. If not I will go home to Chicago as I am sure I am sold anyhow by some of those men on the Committee, and it is through them the Hon James B Reilly has got his information that there is something wrong. Now no doubt but there will be man for man taken, and I do not see which side will have the Sympathizers. as for myself I will remain here until you despatch for me to go down, which I hope will be soon as this letter is received. It is not cowardice that makes me resign, but just let them have it now. I will no longer interfere as I see that one is the same as the other and I am not going to be an accessory to the murder of women and children. Direct your dispatch to the Northwestern Hotel as it is not worthwhile to leave for a boarding house at present when I am going away anyhow. At 1000 AM I got your letter and contents noted but as you see this alters the state of affairs in genl, hence there is no further use of comments. of course you may expect burning and murdering all over. Where we might have had a little quietness and now innocent men of both parties will suffer, and I am sure the Sleepers will not spare the women so long as the vigilants has shown the example.6
8
This letter gives intriguing—but contentious—insights into McParlan. James Horan, who in 1949 became the first researcher to discover it, indicated that it once and for all disposed of the charges that McParlan was an agent provocateur,69 because of his obvious horror at the killing of Ellen McAllister, his disgust at the justice system for not having pursued men he felt he had proved a case against, and his abhorrence at the forces of law and order acting like criminals. Some later writers, however, have disagreed, noting not only that McParlan seemed to feel no sympathy for the men he thought had been killed, but that he did not actively disavow any knowledge of impending vigilantism.70 Neither of these viewpoints seems fully acceptable. Although McParlan clearly found the events at Wiggans Patch reprehensible, it does not indicate whether he did or did not engage in other unscrupulous behaviors himself. Moreover, writing at an impassioned moment that someone “got their just deservings” does not indicate that one justifies the manner in which vengeance is actually effected. Finally, it would be patently unnecessary for McParlan to disavow any previous knowledge, as the letter was written for a superior who regularly received his reports.
What is certain is that key figures at Pinkerton’s quickly soothed and assured their operative in order to keep him in the field. When Franklin forwarded McParlan’s letter to Pinkerton in Chicago, he stated: “This morning I received a report from ‘Mac’ of which I send you a copy, and in which he seems to be very much surprised at the shooting of these men; and he offers his resignation. I telegraphed ‘Mac’ to come here from Pottsville, as I am anxious to satisfy him that we have nothing to do with what has taken place in regard to these men. Of course I do not want ‘Mac’ to resign.”71
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