David Herlihy
Page 21
The revelation that Sachtleben would be taking Bruce's place caused a flap in the press. The Boston papers disputed Worman's claim that Bruce had voluntarily withdrawn in deference to his "widowed mother," charging that it was Worman himself who had withdrawn the promised financial support. Bicycling World affirmed that its writer "stood ready to proceed at once on his mission," adding that it was aborted "through no fault of his own." The Wheelman's Gazette surmised that Lenz's old friend had been "thrown overboard ... simply because Sachtleben could command more advertising."
As Worman had anticipated, however, the general reaction was largely favorable given Sachtleben's seemingly stronger qualifications. Not only was he six years older than Bruce, but he was familiar with Turkey and its customs. The Pittsburgh committee threw its full support behind him. Declared Langhans: "If anyone in the world is able to find Lenz, Sachtleben will do it. If Lenz is alive he will find him. If not, he will discover what has become of him."
In early February, while Sachtleben was still at home waiting for Worman to give the go-ahead, grim news broke. Le Vélo, a Parisian cycling daily, published a dispatch from a "reliable source" in Armenia affirming that Kurds had shot and killed Lenz in the Deli Baba Pass between the towns of Kourdali and Dahar. "The news has long been expected," lamented the American Athlete, "and there is but small doubt of its authenticity."
Undaunted, Sachtleben vowed to find the murderers by tracking down telltale clues such as Lenz's "clothing or wheel." He was growing increasingly frustrated, however, with Worman, who had yet to give a green light. Moreover, the "five men on horseback" the editor had originally promised as an escort quickly dwindled to a single companion, an unidentified "young man from Chicago." Now it appeared that he would have to go it alone.
When Langhans called on Sachtleben in mid-February, the Pittsburgher felt compelled to reassure the folks back home that the mission was still on. "He has been so long getting started,"
Langhans conceded, "that most people have come to look upon his trip as another bluff." Langhans insisted, however, that "there is no bluff about it this time. I saw the contract signed by the Outing people, and I know that he will leave for Turkey in a short time. I saw his paraphernalia all packed and his route laid out. All he is waiting for are marching orders."
Langhans took pains to exonerate Sachtleben and instead laid the blame for the additional delay squarely at Worman's feet: "The Outing people claim that it would be useless to start him out when the country where Lenz disappeared is covered up in snow. But Sachtleben himself says if he were there now he could be doing a great deal of preliminary work that will have to be done anyway."
Meanwhile, as February slipped away, the news from abroad became ever more discouraging. Cook & Son informed Worman that it had made no headway whatsoever in the Lenz investigation. Moreover, it doubted that Sachtleben would make it as far as Erzurum, even after the spring thaw, given the prevailing political climate. "At present no one is allowed in the country," explained a representative, "and although some newspaper correspondents have ventured there, our agent feels sure they will be turned back." Minister Alexander Watkins Terrell concurred, affirming to the secretary of state: "I can see no prospect of such a mission being successful."
Worman, however, was determined to stick to his plan. "I trust our government is sufficiently strong," he wrote Secretary of State Walter Q. Gresham, "to force a way into the country for our envoy, where an American boy known and admired by thousands of his fellow citizens, lies either in bondage, or is slowly wasting away by disease, or worse yet, murdered."
Finally, on February 27, Worman instructed Sachtleben to head immediately to New York, where his steamer was to leave in three days for France. The wheelman bid hasty goodbyes to his family and friends. The Telegraph described his dramatic departure: "A large crowd gathered at Union Depot and gave him an ovation as the train moved out. Will's popularity in his native town was at its height last night. His display of nerve at undertaking such a perilous trip and his undaunted determination were admired by all present. He expressed himself as having nothing to fear and started out on his journey with a cheery 'good-bye.'"
That same day, the Pittsburgh papers fanned yet another sensational rumor to the effect that Frank's mother had at last heard from her son, who was allegedly safe and sound in Russia! The shocking news drew more than one hundred anxious wheelmen to the Lenz residence that day. Alas, the papers soon clarified, Mrs. Lenz had simply received another letter from Outing reiterating its theory that Lenz might have sought refuge in Russia.
Sachtleben himself paid a quick visit to the Lenz home, where he met Mrs. Lenz, Langhans, Purinton, and a host of Frank's friends. Though he knew better, he promised them he would do everything in his power to bring Frank home alive. That failing, he vowed to bring back the wheelman's remains for a Christian burial and, in the event of foul play, to identify and prosecute his killers. He told them all how much he regretted that he had not lingered a while longer in Shanghai, so that he could have had the privilege to meet such a brave and noble man.
For Mrs. Lenz, the emotion was almost too much to bear. The day before, she had received a letter from Tabriz with a photograph of Frank seated on his bicycle in the royal gardens, taken by the crown prince himself. Waldo Wagner, the resident Austrian military adviser, conveyed His Excellency's deepest sympathies and his willingness to assist in the search. Though it was now apparent that Lenz had vanished in Turkey, not Persia, Mrs. Lenz was deeply touched by the prince's show of concern. And even though Frank appeared haggard in the photograph, she cherished it as the last image she would ever have of her beloved son.
A jubilant Worman announced Sachtleben's departure in the March issue of Outing and "the abandonment on the part of Lenz's personal friends of a direct search." Even Purinton, Worman noted, "has withdrawn from the search, satisfied that Outing is covering the field as thoroughly as it can be done under existing circumstances." Most satisfying of all, Worman affirmed, were the many letters he had received from Mrs. Lenz, expressing her gratitude for his "untiring efforts" to find her missing son.
Finally, in the wee hours of March 2—exactly ten months after Lenz's last communication from Tabriz—Sachtleben marched aboard the steamship La Champagne. All hopes for a satisfactory resolution to the Lenz saga now rested squarely on his broad shoulders. As the Telegraph put it, "The entire success of the trip rests with Will." He planned to return to New York that fall bearing conclusive, if unhappy, findings. Should he succeed in his onerous task, vouched the New York Times, he will "cover himself in glory."
11. CONSTANTINOPLE, TURKEY
March 23, 1895
"YOUNG MAN, YOUR FAME has preceded you," declared Alexander Watkins Terrell in a thick southern drawl from behind piles of papers stacked on his desk. Cracking a soft smile, the sixty-eight-year-old minister, who bore a strong resemblance to Samuel Clemens, waved a copy of the New York World as his long-overdue visitor made his approach. The opened page revealed Sachtleben's likeness, accompanied by a long article on his mission in Turkey.
After an exchange of handshakes, Sachtleben settled into a plush chair facing Terrell's desk. The portly minister politely inquired how the trip had gone so far. The correspondent replied that he had enjoyed a smooth transatlantic sailing, followed by a short but gratifying sojourn in bicycle-mad Paris. He relished his three days on the luxurious Orient Express, though he neglected to mention his brief stop in Vienna, where he met with a famous Arctic explorer to discuss his possible participation in an upcoming expedition. He was about to say how impressed he was by the crowded city's new train station when the minister suddenly broke off the conversation.
"Bigelow, come in here, please," bellowed the minister after spotting his assistant in the doorway. "I want you to meet Mr. Sachtleben. He's just come from America to look for Lenz's bones." The startled investigator dutifully rose to shake hands yet again, trying hard not to appear ruffled by Terrell's "plain style of introducti
on imported from Texas."
Once the awkward distraction was concluded, Sachtleben got straight to his objective: a passport from the Turkish government granting permission to travel to Turkish Armenia. At the very least, he hoped to reach Erzurum, the largest city near the presumed location of Lenz's grave.
"I'll do the best I can for you," Terrell intoned, his demeanor suddenly turning serious. "But I hardly think it is possible for you to get your permission—if you succeed in getting one at all—for several weeks." The minister stressed the severity of the ongoing unrest in Turkish Armenia and the sultan's resolve to bar all foreigners from that troubled region. He pointed out that several prominent foreign newspapers had been trying for months to send correspondents, to no avail.
In fact, the sultan had effectively sealed off Armenia since late August, when his soldiers and allied Kurds suppressed the Sassun revolt. The rampage quickly spread to neighboring towns before engulfing the entire province of Bitlis, a mountainous region in eastern Turkey. The situation remained extremely tense. The Europeans were already clamoring for an international investigation. It would eventually conclude that some ten thousand Armenian civilians had been massacred and scores of villages razed.
Terrell warned Sachtleben that even if he managed to get to the remote region awash in blood, he would probably learn nothing new about Lenz's fate. "The Turkish government has made two separate inquiries," the minister revealed, "without any result. They gave up the mystery as unfathomable." The minister observed that the porte was even suggesting that Lenz might never have entered Turkey in the first place, or that he exited it at some point. Terrell paused for effect, then shook his head vigorously. "No, young man, let me advise you to return the same way you came. Take my advice; use your wheel on the other side of the water in God's country."
Sachtleben could barely conceal his seething contempt for Terrell, whom he had already sized up as lazy and inefficient, if not downright corrupt. Before they parted, however, the investigator managed to extract a solemn promise from the busy minister: he would appeal directly to the grand vizier to get Sachtleben his travel papers, stressing the special circumstances of the mission. As the two rose, the wheelman started to thank Terrell, but the blunt minister snapped: "Don't thank me until you have something to thank me for."
In fact, Terrell had little desire to plunge into this hopelessly muddled affair. He had no pity whatsoever for a young man foolish enough to have tried to cycle through such hostile territory unescorted. Nor did he sympathize with an equally rash young adventurer who was itching to head off to that same wretched region to search for his hero's bones. Months earlier, when the first letters reached his desk inquiring about Lenz, he had blithely ignored them. The pile soon rose to about forty sheets, all begging for news about the missing wheelman. He would gladly have continued to steer clear of the affair altogether had he not received explicit instructions from Washington to investigate Lenz's "whereabouts and condition."
Terrell was already swamped with work. On his desk were some three hundred outstanding grievances from American citizens, mostly missionaries seeking compensation from the Ottoman government for alleged losses of property and life. And that pile, too, was bound to rise with the latest outbreak of violence. Pressing these claims was a time-consuming and thankless chore that had earned him nothing but scorn from the missionary community, which charged that he was soft on the vile sultan and remiss in his duties.
He had only just been through the headache of the celebrated case of Anna Melton. In June 1893, shortly after Terrell's arrival in Constantinople, this young American missionary had left the oppressive heat of Mosul (now in Iraq) for a peaceful mountain village, only to find herself assaulted one night by a bedside intruder. Bleeding profusely, she somehow managed to wrest away his club, whereupon he scampered out the window onto the rooftop. In the shadows she spotted an accomplice. A year after the ordeal, Melton complained to the American press: "It took long enough to make any arrests, although the guilty persons were well known." Finally, largely through the efforts of another American missionary, the Reverend E. W. McDowell, eleven Kurds were arrested. Eight were eventually convicted, but an appeals court in Baghdad had just released them all, citing insufficient evidence. The missionaries were now berating Terrell for his appalling "laxity" in the matter.
When he had embarked on his diplomatic career nearly two years earlier following a failed senatorial bid, Terrell had had far greater things in mind than the monitoring of American grievances or the rubberstamping of forms. Cashing in his political chips with the Cleveland administration, the loyal Democrat had sought the most influential position he could land. A prestigious post in western Europe being beyond his reach, he welcomed the opportunity to cultivate a rapport with the sultan. Although the Ottoman Empire had been in steady decline for decades, having recently lost its European foothold in the Balkans, it still ruled over large swathes of land in the Middle East and North Africa. And its future—known as the "Eastern question"—was of great strategic importance to other world powers.
Indeed, Terrell fancied himself a visionary elder statesman who was ready to leave his mark on the world. In truth, he was not without talent or credentials. An impressive orator, he had been for many years an effective power broker in Austin, crafting key legislation such as the charter establishing the University of Texas. Though largely self-taught, he was well-read and held surprisingly progressive views on some topical issues, such as favoring higher education for women. He was also an amateur archaeologist who planned, in his free time, to scour the region in search of ancient artifacts to send back to his beloved university.
From day one, however, the job had fallen far short of his expectations. For starters, he found himself assigned to a modest hotel room rather than the stately residence he had envisioned. Not only did he have no personal attendants, but his office staff was skeletal. He had to do much of the grunt work himself—including filing those interminable petitions from the miserable missionaries. Even more humiliating, he often found himself stewing in the palace parlor while the sultan gave priority to weightier European ambassadors.
Despite these aggravations, Terrell refused to keep a low profile. On the contrary, he vigorously curried favor with the sultan. He insisted that his controversial policy had already yielded important concessions, such as an unprecedented imperial decree allowing a woman, the missionary Mary P. Eddy, to practice medicine in the Ottoman Empire.
To his detractors, however, the former Confederate colonel was little more than a washed-up southern politician clumsily masquerading as a distinguished diplomat. To their minds, this would-be statesman was in fact a boorish, self-serving sycophant and a disgrace to his countrymen. Even his supposed admirer—the widely reviled sultan—reportedly deplored Terrell's raw demeanor and disgusting habits, especially his incessant tobacco chewing and spewing.
A story circulating among the missionaries epitomized Terrell's laughable limitations. Once, at a lavish state dinner held in the American's honor, His Excellency reportedly watched in horror as one of Terrell's wads landed on his precious carpet. The sultan wryly suggested to the minister that he take better aim the next time. The dense diplomat, however, failed to take the hint and continued his indiscriminate onslaught all evening long, mortifying the honored guests.
Terrell's dubious devotion to Christianity was another sore point with the missionaries. One American reverend went so far as to charge that "Minister Terrell has embraced the Mohammedan faith." Groused another: "We might as well have a Mohammedan as American minister, for all that Terrell does for us." Even fellow diplomats were often critical of their colleague. One consul recounted a disturbing display of irreverence: "At a gathering of Turkish officials Terrell said that he was not a Christian, but believed in God as the Turks do. The sentiment was loudly applauded by the Sultan's officers."
An American minister, upon hearing of that incident, fulminated:
Terrell showed himself to b
e a cad by making such a remark. Christianity is the religion of this country, as far as it can be said to have a national religion. And in thus discrediting Christianity Mr. Terrell cast a reflection on his country. Even if Mr. Terrell himself is an infidel, and I don't know whether he is or not, it was not the act of a gentleman to say so under such circumstances. He did incalculable harm to the American missionaries in Turkey, and they constitute nine-tenths of the American residents.
That critic further alleged that the Turks were richly rewarding Terrell for his appalling acquiescence: "I hear that the Sultan has decorated Terrell's wife and daughter with jewelry, and that the minister himself cuts a brilliant figure in the court society of Constantinople to the neglect of American interests." As an example of a case crying out for Terrell's attention, the critic cited that of a missionary who had been waiting for two years for permission from the porte to add a chimney to his house. Summarizing the consensus among the local missionaries, the critic declared: "Mr. Terrell has allowed himself to be soft-soaped into forgetting what he is here for."
No, Terrell had no desire to add to his already oppressive workload. The last thing he needed was another high-profile trial involving an American citizen. To be sure, Lenz was no missionary. But Terrell was certain that the resident Christian community would rally to the wheelman's cause, making even more demands on his precious time and distracting him from weightier matters, such as the plight of Armenian refugees and the future of the Ottoman Empire.
On his second full day in Constantinople, Sachtleben visited the offices of Cook & Son. There he met the manager, Thomas Mill, the man who had alerted Mrs. Lenz about her son's unclaimed baggage. Mill led his visitor to Lenz's abandoned trunk. The wheelman was surprised by its ample contents, which included "clothes, correspondence and notebooks, and all manner of curios." Nearby was a large box Lenz had shipped amounting to "a small bicycle shop." It contained "worn-out parts of his bicycle and a full supply of new tires, pedals, inner tubes, etc."