The Murder of Jim Fisk for the Love of Josie Mansfield

by H. W. Brands

  “No.”

  “Did you go searching about in the hall and parlors, crouching and bending about?”

  “No.”

  “Did you say before firing, ‘Now, I have got you’?”

  “I made no such remark.”

  “You cried out to Fisk not to fire?”

  “That is the only word I spoke. I was searched downstairs for a pistol, the pistol I bought on Broadway, next to Delmonico’s.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “I object!” the district attorney shouts.

  Tremain looks at him and at Judge Ingraham. “What for?” he says. “We offer to show that by reason of threats that had been communicated to him he got that pistol.”

  Ingraham sustains the objection.

  Tremain resumes the questioning. “Did you have a cane in your hand?”

  “Yes, a light walking stick. I had on a large pair of dogskin driving gloves.”

  “When you fired?”

  “Yes, and I also had on a very large driving coat of Irish frieze. I had it made to drive out over the roads with in rough weather. It was very large and clumsy. It was seven or eight inches larger than an ordinary walking coat.”

  “Before you met Mr. Fisk at the hotel, had any warning or information been communicated to you of threats made by Mr. Fisk to do you injury?”

  “I object!” the prosecutor cries.

  The judge asks Tremain: “Within what time?”

  “Within a month; for a long time before.”

  Ingraham overrules the objection.

  Tremain asks Stokes: “Had you been warned or informed of threats to take your life before this meeting?”

  “I had.”

  “What was the nature of the threats communicated?”

  Objection! Overruled.

  “Had you heard that Fisk had made threats against your life?”

  “Numerous times.”

  “When was the last warning that you received of his threatening to kill you prior to the homicide?”

  Stokes reflects for a moment. “I think it was December 20.”

  “Was this the first time you had seen him after you heard of that threat?”

  “I think it was.”

  “What knowledge did you possess at the time of this meeting in relation to the character of the deceased?”

  Objection! Overruled.

  “Did you know what the character of the deceased was?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What was it?”

  Prosecution counsel Beach interrupts. “Define as to what,” he demands.

  Tremain looks to the judge: “Do you want me to lead the witness?”

  “Yes, so far,” Ingraham replies.

  Tremain turns to Stokes. “As to disposition and temperament,” he says.

  “I knew him to be a very vindictive, unscrupulous, desperate character, a man who stopped at nothing to carry out his designs at all hazards.”

  “Before you met the deceased on this occasion, speak whether recently, and when, you had been followed by ruffianly looking persons whom you believed to be sent by the deceased to pursue you.”

  Objection; sustained.

  “Whom you were informed were sent by Fisk to pursue you?”

  Objection; excluded. Rephrased. Excluded. Rephrased again: “Had you, nights and days for a long time prior to this meeting, traveled in covered carriages from fears and apprehensions that you would be attacked at the instigation of Fisk?”

  “I did. I always traveled in carriages, night and day ever since my trouble with Fisk, and for that reason.”

  “For how long?”

  “I should think for twelve months, if not longer.”

  “Did you get persons to go with you and protect you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Had Mr. Fisk told you prior to the meeting that he had a plan all laid for railroading you to state prison?”

  “Yes, sir, he told me he had it all arranged with the district attorney’s to railroad me to state prison, and I communicated it last summer to Assistant District Attorney Fellows, at Saratoga.”

  “Never mind that.”

  “Mr. Fellows said it wasn’t so.”

  Tremain turns to the court stenographer: “Don’t take that. It is not responsive to the question.” He asks Stokes: “Did he say to you at any time that they had graveyards for those who crossed their track?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Was it at a dinner party?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Where?”

  “At Miss Mansfield’s.”

  The audience sits up at Josie’s name, and they look toward her veiled figure. She evinces no reaction.

  “Who were present?”

  “Mrs. Williams, and I think another gentleman.”

  “Who was that?”

  Stokes lowers his voice: “Judge Barnard.”

  A loud murmur in the court at the statement that the judge was consorting with the seductress, or at least was enjoying her company.

  “Never mind that,” Tremain orders the court stenographer. He asks Stokes: “How long had you labored under these apprehensions of attacks you have spoken of—how long before the meeting?”

  “Since the arrest. He had me arrested once and put in jail. Ever since that day—I think it was January 1871.”

  Tremain asks whether Fisk had ever said to Stokes: “We rule New York with a rod of iron, as completely as Robespierre ruled France.”

  Objection; excluded.

  Had Fisk told Stokes that one man who had been prepared to testify against him had been put on a ship bound for China?

  Objection; excluded.

  Had Fisk and his ruffians forcibly seized Stokes’s oil refinery in January 1871?

  Objection; excluded.

  Tremain says he has no further questions and sits down.

  Stokes takes a breath and asks for more water.

  The prosecution cannot let Stokes’s version of the shooting go unchallenged, of course. Assistant District Attorney Garvin commences the cross-examination. “When did you purchase the pistol you had on this occasion?” he asks Stokes.

  “I think about six months before the occurrence.”

  “Do you recollect whether you bought more than one?”

  “Only one. I bought another at this place previously.”

  “Did you ever carry a pistol before one or the other of these two pistols?”

  “No, I never carried a pistol until I became afraid of Fisk.”

  “What kind of overcoat had you?”

  “A light overcoat.”

  “The one you generally wore?”

  “I seldom wore it. It was a conspicuous overcoat. I got it more especially as I intended to go to Europe, and I thought it a good overcoat to go there with.”

  “What kind of hat did you wear?”

  “A black high hat.”

  “Do you know who the lady was you went to see?”

  “No, sir. I should think she was a guest of the hotel.”

  “Did you ever ascertain what was her name?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Do you remember when you came to the head of the stairs seeing anybody there or in the hall leading to the dining room?”

  “I remember a good many persons in the hall leading to the dining room.”

  “You say that Redmond was on the stairs when the first shot was fired?”

  “No, I thought Redmond was between the first and second door. I have an idea he saw me, because he described my having hands on the banisters. I recollected somebody going downstairs and out, and I had an idea it was him.”

  “Had you ever been up those stairs before?”

  “I had never been on the second floor of the Grand Central Hotel in my life.”

  “Was any word spoken by Fisk?”

  “No, sir.”

  “By you?”

  “All I said to him was ‘Don’t fire.’ ”

  “You have a pretty clear
recollection of everything that occurred until you got downstairs?”

  “Yes, sir, although I was somewhat bewildered.”

  “How far up the stairs had Fisk got when the firing took place?”

  “He was on the first platform. As soon as he got on the platform he pulled his pistol out.”

  “Did he fire?”

  “I would not like to swear whether he fired his pistol or not. If he did, it was not pointed at me. I did not see him extend his arm at all.”

  “You intended to shoot at that time?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And did shoot?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you know your pistol was loaded?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How lately had you loaded it?”

  “Not since the time I bought it, six months before.”

  “At the time you fired, you intended to hit Mr. Fisk?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The district attorney, seeming happy that he has cast doubt on Stokes’s story—Did Stokes see a gun in Fisk’s hand or not? Was Redmond on the street or on the stairs? Was there really a woman who caused Stokes to enter the Grand Central?—lets the prisoner step down.

  The defense next calls Josie Mansfield. Spectators, jurymen, lawyers, the judge all watch the veiled woman as she rises from her seat and walks slowly to the witness box. “Mrs. Mansfield’s dress was rather décolleté,” a World reporter torn between titillation and scandalization will recount in the next day’s paper. “Her thin muslin over-shirt set off her plump shoulders. The region that laryngitis attacks was only covered by a heavy gold chain and an amulet or cross. She had heavy earrings of a blue color. A high black hat, surmounted by a blue feather, gave her what printers might call a ‘bold-face-extended’ look. A heavy wisp of hair hung free from among her braids. A black lace shawl was cast loosely over her shoulders. On her arms were heavy gold bracelets, and on her hands violet-colored gloves.” Josie lifts her veil to acknowledge the judge and the jury; all in the courtroom lean forward to see the face of the woman at the heart of the drama that has sent one man to the grave and has put another on a path that might end at the gallows.

  “On the 6th of last January,” defense counsel John Townsend asks, “were you engaged in any proceedings in the Yorkville Police Court?”

  “Yes, sir, a libel suit against Mr. Fisk,” Josie responds in a soft voice. “The proceedings were commenced some time in November, I believe. I was in court on the 6th of January. Colonel Fisk was not there. Mr. Stokes was there. On that day I was very ill. I left the court about two o’clock, in company with my cousin.”

  “When had you prior to that time seen Mr. Fisk?”

  “About three weeks before.”

  “Where?”

  “At my own house.”

  “Was the interview brought about through his agency?”

  “He wrote me a note asking for an interview.”

  Townsend hands her a note; Josie identifies it as the one in question. Townsend starts to read the note but the prosecution objects and Judge Ingraham sustains.

  “When did you receive that note?”

  “About the 15th of December. Colonel Fisk called on me about half past ten o’clock that night.”

  “Did he at that interview make any threats against Stokes?”

  “He said that unless I returned to him he should kill Mr. Stokes.”

  The spectators whisper excitedly; Judge Ingraham glowers at them.

  “Did he at that time exhibit any pistol?” Townsend asks.

  “He did. It was a handsome pistol, silver mounted, with a pearl handle. I took it in my hand and examined it.”

  “Did you communicate what Mr. Fisk said, to the prisoner, Stokes?”

  “I did. A day or two afterward I told Mr. Stokes that Mr. Fisk had called upon me to see if I would not release him from that case in the Police Court, and promised to give me all the money I was suing him for, but I told him I would not release him unless he would publicly acknowledge that King’s affidavit was a fraud and a libel. He said that as far as he personally was concerned he did not care so much, but there were so many people involved that he could not make such a statement. I refused to withdraw the suit unless he would acknowledge that I was in the right. He said then that I must bear the consequences. I said, ‘What?’ He drew his revolver and said, ‘I shall shoot Stokes.’ I said, ‘Oh, no, you won’t do anything like that.’ He said, ‘Well, you will see. There will be blood shed before you get through. You better release me. I beg of you not to appear against me again.’ I said, ‘I most assuredly shall, because I shall be vindicated in this affair.’ Mr. Fisk remained about half an hour. No one else was present. When he spoke of shooting Stokes, he spoke in a very decided manner, as if he meant to do what he said.”

  “Did you give Mr. Stokes any advice at the time you made this statement to him?”

  “I told him he should be more careful than he had been. I knew what a dangerous man Fisk was. He had, prior to that time, made use of threats nearly every time he came to my house after we separated.”

  “State what you said in regard to what Colonel Fisk said in reference to the disposal of Eaton.”

  The reference to the assault on Dorman Eaton stirs the crowd as it had done during the opening remarks of the defense. It also moves the prosecution to object. Judge Ingraham overrules.

  Townsend rephrases: “Did you ever state to Stokes at any time what Colonel Fisk had said in reference to his being disposed of in the same way that Eaton had been?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I had already told him what had been done to Eaton, and I told him how easily it could be done to him.”

  Judge Ingraham asks for clarification: “Fisk told you, and you told that to Stokes?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What else did you say to Mr. Stokes?”

  “That Mr. Fisk said that he and Gould and another party had arranged to attack Mr. Eaton. I told Mr. Stokes that he should be very careful of himself, that Mr. Eaton would be disposed of next day. I told him this because he doubted Mr. Fisk’s power.”

  Townsend resumes the defense’s questioning: “When you saw a pistol in Fisk’s possession about the 15th of December, had you seen one prior to that time in his possession?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “On how many occasions?”

  “Several.”

  “Was any person present at any time when Fisk showed these besides yourself?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Who?”

  “My cousin, Mrs. Williams.”

  The defense concludes its questioning of Josie, and Townsend takes his seat. District Attorney Garvin rises and approaches the witness to conduct the cross-examination. “You say you saw him have a pistol on several different occasions?” he asks her, regarding Fisk. “Was it always the same pistol?”

  “I think so.”

  “How long do you speak of?”

  “Ever since we came from Jersey City in 1868.”

  “How many pistols did you see him have?”

  “I should suppose eight or ten.”

  “Do you know of his carrying pistols, or did he always leave them at home?”

  “He carried them, but not always. He carried them on several occasions—on Black Friday, for instance, he carried a pistol for a long time. And when we went up to Albany on the Susquehanna business.”

  “Do you know whether he carried a pistol on other occasions?”

  “Yes, sir, when we were in Jersey City, and when we went away traveling—about the month I left him.”

  “What month was that?”

  “September 1870.”

  “How long did you say you had been acquainted with Stokes?”

  “Since February 1869.”

  “And with Fisk?”

  “Since February 1867.”

  “How long had you resided in that house?”

  �
��Three years the first day of that month.”

  “Was that the house where you say you had the conversation with Colonel Fisk?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “On this day of the examination”—before Judge Bixby in the Yorkville court—“did you leave anybody at your house except the servants?”

  “No, sir, the house was closed that day, and when I came home I had a terrible headache—terrible headache. No one called that afternoon except beggars, no visitors that afternoon at all.”

  “When did you first hear of the shooting?”

  “Not until between five and six o’clock.”

  “How did you hear of it?”

  “A newspaper reporter came to the house for intelligence, and my cousin went to the door. She came and told me of it. I did not believe it then.”

  “Have you ever seen the prisoner since that day?”

  “Never until today.”

  “Did you see Fisk after the shooting, and before his death?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Did you see him after his death?”

  “No, sir.”

  The district attorney indicates that he has no more questions, and Josie steps down.

  The testimony of Stokes and Josie has contradicted the prosecution’s assertion of cold-blooded murder. Stokes feared for his life before entering the Grand Central Hotel on the day of the shooting; in the stairwell he saw Fisk pull a pistol, or thought he did; his shots were fired in self-defense. So Stokes has said. Josie has corroborated Stokes’s reason for fear and Fisk’s possession of a gun.

  But, doubtless worried that the jury will judge the siren and her paramour less than credible, the defense hedges its bets. It summons expert witnesses who suggest that Fisk died not of shock from the gunshot wounds but from the opium administered for the pain. “A man in the prime of life, in unusually sound health, receives a severe injury from a pistol-shot wound,” defense counsel Townsend says to Dr. John M. Carnochan, physician and surgeon. “That man being a man of temperate habits in the use of spirituous liquors, the shock is recovered from, his pulse seventy-six, respiration twenty-four, the wound having been inflicted about half past four in the afternoon, his pulse having fallen very low, about half past six his pulse is seventy-six and respiration twenty-four, and about half past ten his pulse is natural and respiration normal, his intelligence good—would you apprehend any danger from shock?”