David Herlihy
Page 20
The call for an independent search party quickly gained support. James P. Barr, the secretary of the Keystone Bicycle Club, who had written both Worman and Overman to ask testily "if they intended to do anything in the Lenz matter," started a public conscription with Pratt, the sporting goods dealer. The men asked concerned wheelmen to contribute between one and five dollars so that they could dispatch at once "a party of four to look for the plucky wheelman."
The Press praised their initiative: "They have waited as long as patience will hold out for the firm that sent Lenz on his trip around the world awheel to do something in the line of rescuing him, or at least finding out what has become of him." It predicted that the men would have "no trouble" finding support, given that "no one in all Pittsburg is more popular with the riders of the bicycle than Frank Lenz."
In fact, contributions quickly flowed in. Nor was there any shortage of volunteers. A. C. Moeckel, a friend of Lenz who had left the jewelry business to join the booming cycle trade, offered to quit his post at once to head to Turkey. Darwin McIlrath, who was about to embark with his wife on a world cycling tour on behalf of a Chicago daily, expressed his willingness to "hunt Lenz down." Many others across the country wrote to offer their services.
The vibrant campaign was soon taken over by a committee headed by Langhans and Purinton. They immediately appealed to Congressman John Dalzell and Governor William J. Stone for governmental support. They recognized, however, the pressing need to identify Lenz's last known location. At the suggestion of Reverend Wilson, they wired Dr. William'S. Vanneman, a missionary in Tabriz, asking: "Where is Bicyclist Lenz? Ask Khoi and Bayazid." Langhans also wrote to Sachtleben to ask for the names of any people he knew along the caravan road who might be in a position to assist the search.
In early December, Purinton received two replies from Erzurum in the same post, both confirming, for the first time, that Lenz had reached Turkey. The British consul, Robert Wyndham Graves, wrote: "From private inquiries I have made I learn that a traveler answering in all respects to Mr. Lenz, passed the Turkish frontier at Kizil Dizeh, near Bayazid, sometime in May last. He continued his journey after a short halt, and from that moment nothing more has been heard of him. I have requested the Governor General of the province to make careful inquiries." The missionary William Chambers reported that the cyclist was seen on May 7 in Dyaden, Turkey, about 150 miles west from Tabriz, placing Lenz a good twenty miles past the border, in the Alashgerd Plain.
Over the next few weeks, information trickled in from Persia confirming that Lenz had made it safely out of that country. John C. Mechlin, an American missionary based in Salmas, reported that he had seen Lenz in that city in early May and had endeavored to dissuade the young adventurer from heading into Turkey alone. His helper saw Lenz a bit farther on, in Khoi, and postmen had reportedly seen the wheelman across the border. Alexander MacDonald, the minister in Teheran, affirmed: "We have certainly traced Mr. Lenz out of Persia into Turkey. Now it would be best to contact our minister in Constantinople."
Of course, the fact that Lenz had made it to Turkey was not necessarily welcome news, given the troubled state of that country. As the Press observed, "It almost gives a death blow to the last spark of hope." Graves, for one, gave a most somber assessment. "Your relative must have been robbed and made away with somewhere in the dangerous districts of Bayazid or Alashgerd," adding: "It will be difficult now to clear up the mystery of his disappearance."
The mere mention of Dyaden brought back bad memories to Sachtleben and Allen, who had stopped there four years earlier on their own tour. "Our little room was filled to suffocation," recalled Allen, "and the curious crowd was not disposed to heed our requests to be left alone. We threw them out bodily. Thirsting for revenge, they mounted the roof, and until far into the night stomped down the mud and earth from the unplastered ceiling." Allen sincerely hoped that Lenz had not been compelled to make a deferred payment "for our indiscretion."
Vanneman, whose cable arrived a few days after the letters from Graves and Chambers, offered an equally stark conjecture: he imagined that Lenz had gotten safely across the Alashgerd Plain, then "probably disappeared in Deli Baba Pass 80 Miles from Erzurum." Sachtleben submitted an eerily similar theory:
In all probability Lenz disappeared about half way between Bayazid and Erzeroum. About midway between these two towns is the wild mountain gorge of Deli Baba. Mr. Allen and I were warned not to take this route when we were over there, but we had no choice. I remember well our feelings as we entered the pass. We traveled up the narrow defile and had to stop at a Kurdish village about half way up on account of a terrific hail storm. At this village we had several things stolen from us. Usually when this occurred we acted in a high manner and asserted our rights boldly. But on this occasion we swallowed our pill with the best possible grace. Discretion was decidedly the better part of valor. And Lenz's position would be more dangerous than ours. There were two of us and he was alone. We could watch all sides, while he could face only one way. But once our backs were turned the natives took courage and were equal to any murderous deed.
Worman, meanwhile, continued to hold out hope that Lenz was still alive, though he admitted to the State Department that his own inquiries "have as yet brought forth no satisfactory results." In fact, Cook & Son had yet to get anyone near the area of interest, given the heavy snow and the resistance of Turkish officials to foreign investigators. The London office warned Worman that even if it should manage to get investigators to the site, he should expect to pay a premium for their services: "The cost of traveling in Armenia is considerable, especially in the face of the existing troubles between the Turkish troops and the Armenians."
As 1894 came to a close, Worman faced mounting pressure to send an investigator to Turkey, as well as scathing criticism for his clumsy handling of the affair. "As far as we know," fumed one of Lenz's friends, "Outing has not taken the trouble to do more than write letters. They could offer no consolation to his mother worthy of the name." Nor did he care for the callous way in which Worman had discouraged Lenz's friends from making inquiries abroad, only to withhold the results of his own correspondence. The American Wheelman of New York City accused Outing of having recklessly risked Lenz's life, only to "pass around the hat" as soon as he vanished.
A defensive Worman sent out a circular vigorously defending his actions and denying that he was soliciting contributions. He insisted that Cook & Son was doing everything possible to get to the troubled region and appealed for the public's patience and understanding. He also tried to defuse his critics with a show of goodwill. He wrote Purinton offering to cover any expenses he had incurred in his correspondence abroad. When Lenz's old friend Ned Friesell dropped by Worman's office, he received a warm reception. "Our talk lasted over two hours and covered every phase of the Lenz case," Ned wrote his brother Charles. "The doctor went over with me a pile of correspondence a foot high. There were letters from British and other consuls, excepting American, bearing dates considerably earlier than the feeling of uneasiness in Pittsburg."
Still, Worman realized that he had to do more if he hoped to salvage his good name. He had no alternative left but to preempt the Pittsburgh committee and send an investigator of his own to Turkey as soon as possible, to prove his sincerity if nothing else. He had a practical incentive as well: the Mutual Life Insurance Company of New York would not pay the $3,000 coverage to Mrs. Lenz without indisputable evidence of her son's death.
But whom should he send? One obvious choice for a lead investigator was the British cyclist Robert Louis Jefferson, who had just published the book To Constantinople on a Bicycle: The Story of My Ride. Cycling Life of Chicago, which had been highly critical of Worman's inertia, claimed that Jefferson was eager to swing into action: "A cablegram would start him in two days. In a week he would be in Erzurum. In three weeks more he could ascertain all that it were well we should know."
Worman turned instead to a man he knew and trusted: Robert Bruce, th
e editorial assistant he had hired in 1890 fresh out of Oswego High School, and Lenz's former travel mate. For four years Bruce had performed his duties admirably, until he moved to Boston that past summer to write for rival Bicycling World. Though only twenty-one years old, he exuded remarkable poise and maturity. A Boston reporter described him as "cautious and cool, with plenty of reserve force, perseverance and patience; a man who maps out a definite purpose and strives to accomplish that end."
Worman figured that Bruce's intimate knowledge of Lenz might prove helpful, giving him special motivation to investigate if nothing else. Indeed, Bruce freely admitted that he would not even have considered the dangerous assignment had it not been for his devotion to the lost cyclist, whom he described as the bravest man he ever met. "I actually doubt if he knew the meaning of fear," Bruce reflected. "There was nothing in his mental or physical makeup corresponding to the timidity most men feel in the presence of danger." Still, Bruce conceded, that very daredevil propensity "to show fight regardless of consequences" might well have been Lenz's undoing.
Bruce's friends worried, however, that the young man was about to embark on a futile and possibly fatal mission of his own. His fellow students at Boston University, where he had just completed his first term, feared for his safety. Dean W E. Huntington strongly advised his pupil to reject Worman's offer, insisting that "the people who send you would get the advertising and benefits while you would be running a great risk for a nominal sum."
Bruce nonetheless felt that he owed it to Lenz's mother and friends, not to mention his beleaguered former boss, to make the heroic effort. Even if he failed to find the man alive, he would at least give solace to Lenz's family and friends by uncovering the cyclist's fate and bringing back his remains for proper burial. And of course, if he should discover evidence of foul play, he would seek justice. Moreover, Bruce would have the high honor of completing the tragic but noble ride whose first several thousand miles he had covered with Lenz.
On January 7, 1895, the Boston papers announced Bruce's mission. The investigator discussed his itinerary with a local reporter. "I shall leave for New York in a few weeks as soon as my wheel is made for me. I shall then sail for Havre, then train to Constantinople. My wheel I shall leave there, to be taken up only after I have finished my search for Lenz." In the capital city, Bruce would meet up with escorts versed in the local languages, either native guides furnished by Cook & Son or volunteer missionaries. After crossing the Black Sea by steamer to Bantoun (Batumi), the party would head south to Erzurum, "the place where Lenz never reached," to begin its search.
"I shall work along to Bayazid," Bruce elaborated, "where Lenz is reported to have been seen. I shall carry with me a wallet with papers having his signature and photographs, to show to the natives while I inquire: 'Have you seen or heard of him?' I shall follow each road until I am satisfied that none of the natives have seen him." Added Bruce: "In case I don't find him in three months, I shall give up the search and have my wheel shipped from Constantinople to Teheran, where Lenz's narrative left off. There, I will take up the thread of the story and continue the journey to its completion."
As Bruce hastily began his preparations, he enjoyed an outpouring of goodwill. At the clubhouse of the Massachusetts Bicycle Club, he received a rousing round of cheers and a signed copy of Stevens's book Around the World on a Bicycle. He also had a long conversation with the Reverend James L. Barton, the foreign secretary of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions (ABCFM). Barton gave Bruce a letter of introduction to present to the agency's missionaries in the region. He also authorized two of his men to leave their posts, if necessary, to assist the cause: George C. Raynolds in Van and Chambers in Erzurum.
The public had barely received the welcome news of the Bruce mission when the Pittsburgh committee announced that it was about to dispatch an investigator of its own: none other than William Sachtleben, the famous globe girdler who already knew the territory of Turks. The sudden prospect of two distinct missions rushing off to Turkey after so much delay befuddled the public. Marveled Cycling Life: "How to reconcile the original state of masterly inactivity with the present fever to find Lenz is the subject of nightly discussions wherever wheelmen congregate."
For Worman, the Pittsburgh project spelled nothing but trouble. He had no desire to see a second search party in Turkey over which he would have no control, much less one that threatened to overshadow and outshine his own. Worman decided there was but one thing to do: meet with Sachtleben and, if possible, hire him away from the Pittsburghers, even if that meant reneging on the Bruce deal. And he knew just where to find his man: at the National Cycle Show, which had just opened in Chicago.
The massive show had given the strongest evidence yet that the country had truly gone bicycle-mad. Despite the bitter cold and abundant snow, tens of thousands of men and women had flocked to the "twin armories" on the lakefront to see the latest cycle designs and accessories. Hundreds of firms nationwide were now catering to the seemingly insatiable demand, and all the big brands were present. The typical machine cost under $100 and featured tubular tires glued to lightweight, American-made wooden rims. In all, it weighed about twenty-five pounds, or about half the weight of Lenz's antiquated mount. Among the novelties was a folding model and a strange self-moving contraption with a petrol-powered engine called the "motor cycle."
In the wee hours of January 11, Worman boarded a train to Chicago. The next morning, he rushed over to the armories to catch the last day of the show. The crowd was especially large thanks to the presence of Arthur A. Zimmerman, the great professional racer who had made an astronomical $40,000 the past season in Europe. Fighting his way to the stand of the Overman Wheel Company, Worman cornered Charlie Overman, Albert's brother. Hollering over the din of the brass band, the editor asked Charlie if he had seen Sachtleben. Told that the agent was expected to pass by the booth sometime that morning, Worman asked Overman to detain Sachtleben for an urgent conference.
Later that morning, on cue, Sachtleben strolled over to the Overman stand. Charlie had barely delivered Worman's message when he suddenly pointed into the crowd and gushed: "Here comes Mr. Worman now!" Sachtleben spun around and spotted "an important looking man" making a beeline toward him.
"Mr. Sachtleben I presume?" the little doctor uttered with a perfect German accent.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Worman," replied the cyclist with a knowing smile as the two shook hands.
"I'd like to talk to you about our lost correspondent, Mr. Lenz. Would you care to join me for lunch?"
"With pleasure," Sachtleben replied.
During their meal, Sachtleben could readily see that Worman was "full of anxiety" over the Lenz affair. Recalled the wheelman many years later: "He was leaning toward the belief that Lenz had been captured, and was being held a prisoner by the barbarous Kurdish tribes." Sachtleben, however, would have none of that. "My previous experience with these lawless Kurds led me to think that they had secretly made away with Lenz." As the two argued back and forth on the subject, Worman suddenly blurted out: "How'd you like to go out in search of him?" Replied the cyclist without flinching: "I would be glad of the opportunity."
Worman then outlined his offer. Although the payment exceeded that of the Pittsburgh committee, it fell significantly short of Sachtleben's expectations. He politely pointed out that he would require a larger sum to justify putting his life at risk, noble though the cause was. The two amicably agreed to resume their discussion in a few days, once Worman was ready to present a new offer. Sachtleben, meanwhile, returned to Alton to mull things over.
Certainly a major concern for the wheelman was the stark realization that Lenz "was past being found." It was fun to fantasize, of course, about creeping into a Kurdish camp in the dead of night to slice the cords that had kept Lenz in bondage all this time. But Sachtleben knew well that there would be no joyous encounter in the wilds a la Henry Morton Stanley and David Livingstone. He had lost his opportu
nity to meet Lenz.
Still, the proposed mission to turbulent Turkey was not without possible benefits, especially if he could find Lenz's remains, unravel his fate, and bring about a measure of justice in the event of foul play. He would earn the eternal gratitude of Mrs. Lenz, the wheel world, and the American public. And if his work compelled the Turkish government to pay Mrs. Lenz an indemnity, he knew he could expect a liberal reward.
Even if he did not fully succeed in that mission, he reasoned, it would certainly satisfy his pent-up cravings for more adventure. It would also thrust him back into the international limelight and renew his reputation as a world wanderer and roving reporter par excellence. While in Turkey, he might even delve into the Armenian massacres and make himself an even more valuable commodity on the lecture circuit.
Besides, as he confided to a local reporter, he had long contemplated a "future career devoted to visits to foreign lands and the writing of travel books." While abroad, he could prepare a work illuminating "Armenia and its recent troubles," one that would cover "every phase of life." Yes, he told the journalist, he would almost certainly go to Turkey "if Outing will somewhat increase their offer of remuneration."
A few days later, Worman did just that, and a deal was struck. The editor agreed to advance his correspondent $1,300 and underwrite his expenses "to the farthest point east." After concluding his investigation, Sachtleben, rather than Bruce, would complete Lenz's trip all the way to Pittsburgh. Although he would be responsible for his own expenses during the cycling portion of the journey, he would share in all magazine and book-related profits. Satisfied with his terms, Sachtleben immediately began to plan for his long journey.