When McParlan asked if they would visit Kerrigan in jail, both women responded venomously that they would “never go to see the little rat,” and Mrs. Kerrigan added that “she never wanted to see him either dead or alive.” Already taken aback by the women’s vehemence, his own danger was made still more evident when Mary Ann told McParlan that “it was rumored that he (our operative) had turned traitor by a few in Tamaqua, but that no person believed it, all saying that it was Kerrigan.” It was his first indication that suspicions about him were growing, and that his time in the anthracite region might be nearing its conclusion.
• • •
A week later, McParlan found that the dangers surrounding him were multiplying rapidly. On February 23, the day Michael J. Doyle was sentenced to be hanged, a habeas corpus hearing—this time closed to the press—was held for Munley and McAllister, who were denied bail.29
McParlan met McAndrew at the courthouse, and learned “they were making bets . . . that I [McParlan] was a detective, and that I would go on the stand at the habeas corpus hearing.”30 Shortly thereafter, saloonkeeper Danny Hughes added that Kehoe had sent a message to beware of McParlan, because he was a detective. Things moved fast, as McParlan attempted to convince Kehoe that he was not a spy by demanding a trial. But in Pottsville a few days later, Kehoe was told by Ryon, the attorney, that detectives were at work. Whether he mentioned McParlan by name or not, Kehoe became increasingly suspicious.31
The final straw for Kehoe was his notification by Father O’Connor that a detective was operating in the coalfields.32 It was at this stage, according to McParlan, that Kehoe launched his plan to have him murdered. But rather than disappearing when this failed, McParlan instead went to Girardville to confront the “King of the Mollies,” who reportedly appeared stunned to see a dead man walking, particularly next to McAndrew, who was to have made sure he was a corpse. A strained conversation followed, in which Kehoe admitted that he had canceled McParlan’s scheduled trial. He refused to say more, however, directing him rather to “go to Father O’Connor, and see him about it: you will find it all out.”33
McParlan indeed headed directly to the priest’s home, again accompanied by McAndrew and, as on their cutter ride, shadowed by men with ill intent. The priest was not at home, and when McParlan disappeared briefly to try to find him, three men approached McAndrew, declaring they wanted to kill his friend there and then. But McAndrew refused to countenance the act, and the trio retreated. They did not abandon their murderous plans, however, as that night several men dressed as tramps went to McParlan’s boardinghouse and waited hours for his arrival, knocking on the door numerous times in unfulfilled hopes of finding him in.
Once again, McAndrew had come to the rescue. When he and McParlan reached Shenandoah, he said, “You will not go to your boarding house. . . . You will sleep with me.”34 McParlan acquiesced, and therefore stayed safely at McAndrew’s home while his own was surrounded by killers.
The next day McParlan again unsuccessfully attempted to see Father O’Connor, following which he met up with Linden. “I told the Captain that I came to the conclusion that they had had a peep at my hand, and that the cards were all played.”35
Still, he wanted one last chance to redeem the situation before conceding the game was truly over, so he asked Linden to “take means to protect me, and that he would do it in such a way that it would not be noticed around Mahanoy Plane.” Linden “fetched four or five men there, and had them to keep a close shadow on me, and keep themselves as unobserved as possible, while I was in Callaghan’s [tavern] and to watch me till I went to Father O’Connor’s.”36
Little did McParlan know how seriously Linden took that particular commission. “A plot has been formed to murder my Friend whom you know of,” Linden wrote to Schuylkill County district attorney George Kaercher. “My Friend is to go and see the priest who is represented as being the Party who branded him a traitor if the Priest acknowledges himself wrong all may yet be well if on the contrary he proves his story correct the assassins are not only selected but have been kept at Shenandoah since last Wednesday to put him out of the way at once. . . . I will be on hand to either prevent murder or arrest the parties and if I cannot save my Friend I can easily die with him but it will cost the murderers more than one life. . . . I trust that things may turn out well but please dont blame me if someone is hurt in case shooting is begun for if my Friend is killed Jack Kehoe can say his prayers in short metre if I die for it.”37
As it turned out, McParlan’s visit confirmed the depths of Father O’Connor’s knowledge, because the priest identified him as a Chicago detective working for Pinkerton’s.38 He also believed McParlan to have participated in the Molly Maguire outrages—thereby making him the worst of both worlds. Most alarming, however, O’Connor stated that other priests knew more than he did. It was time to leave. Realizing that Martin Dooley, a member of the Mahanoy Plane AOH lodge who had been following him, was listening from the next room, McParlan loudly defended the order that he might “get out of there with my life.”39 The plan worked: Dooley was impressed by the detective’s stand.
But McParlan knew what he had to do, and still shadowed by Linden’s men, he took the train to Pottsville, where he spent the night guarded by Linden himself. Early the next morning the two headed to Philadelphia.40 McParlan could finally breath easily, knowing that—after two and a half years of constant danger—he would never again need to return to Schuylkill County.
• • •
The disappearance of one of the most visible and dangerous Molly Maguires produced widely differing reactions in Schuylkill County. AOH members who had been part of the plan to terminate him were undoubtedly frustrated by his escape, and the members of the public who wished to hang him—at least those who realized he was no longer there—probably had mixed feelings of disappointment that he had evaded them and relief that he was gone. His continuing absence probably convinced some that Kehoe had been right about him being the bad seed, whereas others thought it only meant that he had been the victim of a “clean job.” The friend who knew most about all of this—Frank McAndrew—wasn’t telling anyone anything, because he fled as well around the time of McParlan’s disappearance, to Ireland.41
Most of the regular members of the AOH—and certainly the majority of the average folks McParlan knew in Shenandoah and other areas “over the mountain”—would probably not have thought much about him at all, particularly as the weeks passed, as they would not have known about Kehoe’s concerns, and would have assumed his low profile meant he was bedridden again, or simply that he would be back, probably with queer cash and more tall tales to tell.
In reality, upon his departure from the anthracite region, McParlan debriefed with Franklin and Linden, then with Pinkerton in Chicago, before returning to Philadelphia several weeks after his hurried departure. It turned out to be a beautiful spring in Philadelphia, with moderate temperatures and pleasant weather,42 and McParlan was given time to relax and enjoy life with no grueling cases. He was able to attend church regularly, take communion, and go to confession, the latter two for the first time since he had entered the anthracite region, because he had believed it improper to do so while acting as a member of a banned society.43 He was also able to feel like a respectable man again, with reputable friends. And without the stress of being under cover, his physical condition improved and his hair grew back.
McParlan’s respite was to be a brief one, however. Pinkerton received a request from Gowen that he reconsider allowing his operative to testify openly in court.
It wasn’t as though the prosecution was struggling. About three weeks after McParlan disappeared, twenty-four-year-old Edward Kelly went on trial in Mauch Chunk. There was an expectation that Kerrigan would testify, and the defense attempted to thwart this by having him tried with Kelly. This ploy was rejected, as was the request for a change of venue based on the Lehigh and Wilkes-Barre Coal Company “spen
ding large sums of money in the preparation of, and pressing the prosecution against him.”44
In fact, the attorneys for the Commonwealth were so confident that they proceeded entirely without Kerrigan. The strategy worked perfectly, as essentially the same set of witnesses produced the same damning information as in Doyle’s trial.45 The defense was even less challenging, its only clever tactic being to sit Kelly’s brother—who closely resembled him—near the defendant. This confused one witness into incorrectly identifying the brother as the killer, but it had no impact on the outcome. On April 6, little more than a week after the trial began, Kelly was found guilty. Shortly thereafter he was sentenced to hang.
With the second conviction, newspapers throughout the northeastern United States suddenly grabbed hold of the more sensational aspects of the trials, denounced the Molly Maguires as “red-handed assassins,” and attacked those who had opposed the coal companies—and were therefore assumed to be linked with the outrages. Sadly, one of those thus attacked was John Siney, who had just returned to St. Clair a defeated man after his national union had collapsed due to financial problems and internal dissension. One of Siney’s most outspoken critics had long been Robert Ramsey, the editor of The Daily Miners’ Journal, who at the end of the Long Strike had bitterly and inaccurately written: “If ever a man deserved the penitentiary for the villainy that he has set in motion and produced—the injury he has done the miners and the laborers, and the destruction of business caused by his rascality in deceiving the miners and using them for his own purposes to advance his own interests, and to put money into his own pocket, that man is John Siney!”46 Now Siney, who more than any other individual had kept the Molly Maguires in check via his WBA policies and tactics, found himself branded “a pettifogger who had never handled a pick in his life” and part of the “herd of ruffians” most closely affiliated with the criminals.47
Meanwhile, on the same day that Kelly was pronounced guilty, Kerrigan’s “leaked” confession appeared widely in the press. “That is the order of the Molly Maguires and nothing else,” he said about the Ancient Order of Hibernians. “The Purpose of the Molly Maguires, or AOH, is to kill people and burn down dwellings. The notion is that it is to protect workingmen, but really they are all of the most hardened villains.”48 Such comments were, needless to say, music to Gowen’s ears.
Yet nothing was certain. The next trial was scheduled for Pottsville, and although District Attorney George Kaercher was joined by Albright, Hughes, and local lawyer Guy Farquhar, the challenge of proving the five men guilty of Yost’s murder was tricky. They had Kerrigan’s confession, but, coming from an accomplice, it might be limited by the judges. Even more difficult would be convicting the murderers of Sanger and Uren, for Kerrigan had known nothing of that arrangement. Thus, it became obvious that the key to both cases was McParlan, who had not only heard the assassins’ confessions but could explain the tortuous motive linking Yost and Jones. For Gowen, McParlan’s testimony was crucial.
With so much hanging in the balance, Gowen appealed to Pinkerton to allow his operative to testify. The principal declined to force him, however, leaving the decision up to McParlan, who initially refused. On April 27, only a week before the start date of the Yost murder trial, Albright wrote to Kaercher that “it looks very much as if we are not to get the testimony of the detective. It will be too bad if he fails us in this, I judge Mr Linden controls this matter.”49
Linden did not actually hold such sway over McParlan, but he definitely encouraged the detective to testify, as apparently Pinkerton himself did, after submitting to Gowen’s pressure. But it was not until the silver-tongued president of the Reading met directly with McParlan that the operative gave in. Robert A. Pinkerton, Allan’s son, wrote many years later that “it was agreed by Mr Gowen, that if Mr Pinkerton would allow McParland to appear as a witness in the Mollie cases, that he (Mr Gowen) would act with the District Attorney in the prosecution.”50 There is no reason to think Gowen’s participation would have swayed McParlan, and it is likely that Gowen planned on being involved regardless, but what is clear is that he was able to manipulate McParlan just as he could virtually anyone else.
Thus, when Gowen finished his appeal, McParlan reportedly sat thinking silently and deeply for a full five minutes. Then, perhaps somewhat reluctant but determined to make the best possible job of it, he agreed to return to Schuylkill County and testify.51
It was never recorded just how Gowen managed to convince McParlan, but there were several lines of reasoning that he likely used, in addition to his remarkable charm and persuasive power. First, he would have pointed out the advantages McParlan’s participation would have for the advancement of his career with Pinkerton’s were the prosecutions successful. Second, and perhaps most important—as when McParlan had accepted the assignment almost three years before—was the positive impact his testimony would have on the Catholic Church. This would have been not only because the Church had openly thrown its power against the Molly Maguires and stood to be embarrassed if its members were able to get away with their crimes, but because it was a chance to testify about his meeting with Father O’Connor, and thereby to dispel the widespread rumors that the priest had informed Kehoe that McParlan was a detective. Although it was true that O’Connor had done so, McParlan would still be able to protect the priest, avoiding further embarrassment to the Church. These were powerful arguments for McParlan.
Gowen’s final contention was likely to have been that McParlan’s mission had been revealed, and so there was no reason not to testify. As his cover was blown, there was no longer an issue either of safety or of a long-term investigation preventing him from taking the stand.52
These last two issues were directly related, as Gowen confirmed to Archbishop Wood not long after the trial for the Yost murder began: “It seems to me that the Lord is on our side, for if it had not been for Father O’Connor we could never have had the success we are now meeting with in our efforts to crush out this society.” The detective had been promised that he would never need testify, Gowen continued, and “had it not been for Father O’Connor making his mission known we could not have used him as a witness—but when his true character was discovered there was no longer any object in secrecy & by using his testimony we have been enabled to arrest all the leaders of the organization except those who ran away when Kerrigan turned informer & we will undoubtedly be able to break up the whole society.”53
Whatever Gowen’s arguments, McParlan was convinced, and he prepared to take the stand, in public, against the men who had considered him a coconspirator, an ally, and a friend.
CHAPTER 9
MCPARLAN ON THE WITNESS STAND
Gowen’s anticipated destruction of the Molly Maguires and the Ancient Order of Hibernians began in earnest on May 4, in front of a Pottsville courtroom jammed to capacity four hours before it officially opened.1 A full panel of three judges presided: President Judge Cyrus L. Pershing, who had been the Democratic candidate for governor in 1875; Thomas H. Walker; and David B. Green. The four prosecution lawyers—joined by Gowen the next day—faced a defense that would, more or less, appear in most of the following trials: Bartholomew, Ryon, Kalbfus, and Martin M. L’Velle, an Irish-Catholic practicing in Pottsville.
For two days, the defendants were allowed to sit with their families while the legal teams fought over impaneling a jury. In the Mauch Chunk trials, the defense had gladly taken Pennsylvania Dutch, hoping any language difficulty would result in an acquittal. But after two guilty verdicts, the defense was now concerned about such men—while the prosecution happily accepted them. William Becker, for example, asked to have the voir dire conducted “in Dutch as I am light on English. . . . I would not understand the witnesses.” Nevertheless, he was accepted for the jury, as was Levi Stein, who admitted, “I don’t understand much English.”2
Those looking for sensation were supplied it in full measure during Kaercher’s opening stateme
nt: “We will produce to you the full and complete confession of James Carroll and Hugh McGehan of their part of this murder, made to James McKenna, a detective, whom they knew by that name, but whose real name was James McParlan.” The effect was instantaneous: “Carroll was as if struck by lightning. He could scarcely get back the breath which seemed to be lost to him. Boyle shook like an aspen, and the other prisoners became grave as judges. A thrill of excitement and astonishment went through the audience.”3 They now knew Kehoe had been right about “McKenna” being a spy, and there had been no “clean job” resolving the problem.
Soon there was more thrilling news. Near the end of Kaercher’s statement, word raced through the courtroom that a dozen or so Molly Maguires were being led to the jail in chains. It was true—indeed, it had been orchestrated for just this moment. The Coal and Iron Police had made a lightning series of early morning arrests, including Kehoe, Lawler, Northumberland County delegate Dennis Canning, Schuylkill County treasurer Chris Donnelly, and Lost Creek bodymaster Patrick Butler. The entire organization appeared to be going on trial.
That afternoon, after the initial witnesses set out the details of Yost’s death, the prosecution called McParlan to the stand. As the side door to the courtroom opened, the audience pushed to the rail for a better view of “the terror of the Mollies.” Accompanied by Linden and two bodyguards, who would remain with him for the next year, McParlan entered, dressed “in the height of fashion.”4 He also had a full head of short, chestnut hair, slightly darker than it had been before he lost it. He seated himself in the witness chair and, devoid of the boisterousness and rowdiness that had marked Jim McKenna, quietly, calmly, and without hesitation began a remarkable four days of testimony.
With Gowen’s careful guidance, McParlan detailed the original purposes of his investigation, his early days in the anthracite region, and his inquiry into the Yost murder. He repeated the confessions that were made to him, and explained the trade of the murder of Yost for that of Jones in detail. He identified Roarity’s pistol, which McGehan had used to shoot Yost, told of how Kerrigan had shown it to him, established that it had reached Doyle and had subsequently been used to kill Jones, and explained that it had been found in the bushes near the spring where the three culprits were arrested. He also described Kerrigan’s role in both crimes. By the end of the day his testimony had probably already sealed the defendants’ fate.
Pinkerton’s Great Detective Page 17