232 “to take a laugh”: Smith, American Gothic, 99.
232 Our American Cousin the previous year: Titone, My Thoughts Be Bloody, 352–353.
233 The second door had a peephole: I chose not to repeat the common claim that Booth drilled this peephole. Logic suggests he was far too busy that day making other preparations, moving to and fro about Washington. A convincing historical denial of the peephole claim can be found in W. Emerson Reck, A. Lincoln: His Last 24 Hours (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 1987), 73.
233 “Well, I guess I know”: Tom Taylor, Our American Cousin (New York: Samuel French, 1869), 37.
233 “Sic semper tyrannis”: That these were John Wilkes Booth’s words checked with multiple reliable sources, including Doris Kearns Goodwin, Team of Rivals (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2005), 739.
233 “Stop that man!”: That these were Major Rathbone’s words checked with multiple reliable sources, including Reck, A. Lincoln: His Last 24 Hours, 102.
234 “Melancholy . . . heavy-hearted”: CW, Notebooks and Unpublished Prose Manuscripts, 2:767.
235 Whitman gave his new love: Miller, Walt Whitman’s Drum-Taps, editor’s introduction, xliii.
235 “I heard the pistol”: Bucke, Calamus, 26.
CHAPTER 16: A BRIEF REVIVAL
237 The funeral train: Details about the train, its course, and the onlookers from multiple sources, including Victor Searcher, The Farewell to Lincoln (New York: Abingdon Press, 1965).
237 “What did you ever”: SP, August 5, 1865.
237 “How to Write War Lyrics”: Ibid.
238 “Muck-a-Muck”: SP, October 8, 1865.
238 an “inconceivable number”: SP, September 9, 1865.
238 The saloon was now in a new location: The very first issue of the revived Saturday Press (August 5, 1865) has an ad for Pfaff’s, giving the saloon’s address as 653 Broadway. As for when Pfaff’s moved: it’s listed at 647 Broadway in Trow’s New York City Directory for 1865. The directory is for the year ended May 1, 1865. Thus, Pfaff’s must have moved sometime between May and August 1865 (when the ad with the new address appeared in the SP).
238 “The National bird”: Philadelphia Inquirer, November 27, 1892.
238 “Beerdrinkers Song”: SP, August 12, 1865.
238 “Life in a Bar-Room”: SP, January 13, 1866.
238 “Abraham Lincoln was a most”: SP, September 16, 1865.
239 “A teetotal correspondent”: SP, August 19, 1865.
239 “O Captain! My Captain!”: SP, November 4, 1865. The version of the poem that appeared in the SP is slightly different from the familiar version. For example, here are the last four lines of the first stanza as they appeared in the journal:
But O heart! heart! heart!
Leave you not the little spot,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Of course, “spot” and “dead” don’t rhyme. Because this is jarring to anyone familiar with the more famous version, I reproduced that one in my account:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Source: Leaves of Grass (final edition), 337–338.
240 “him I love”: Ibid., 328.
240 “Ever-returning spring”: Ibid.
241 “all the slain soldiers”: Ibid., 336.
241 one did run in the SP: SP’s review of Drum-Taps, January 27, 1866.
241 “the most sweet and sonorous”: Daniel Mark Epstein, Lincoln and Whitman: Parallel Lives in Civil War Washington (New York: Random House, 2004), 250.
241 “Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog”: SP, November 18, 1865.
241 “The papers are copying it”: Alta California quoted in Albert Bigelow Paine, Mark Twain: A Biography (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1912), 1:279.
241 Credit is also due Artemus Ward: Details from multiple sources, including John Pullen, Comic Relief: The Life and Laughter of Artemus Ward (Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1983).
242 “rat-terriers and chicken cocks”: SP, November 18, 1865.
242 “Mr. A Ward,” it begins: Ibid.
242 “The ‘Jumping Frog’ was”: North American Review, April 1894.
243 “I am getting too old”: SP, April 28, 1866.
243 “Of late, however”: Trenton Gazette quoted in SP, May 19, 1866.
243 “originally composed of about”: Albert Parry, Garrets and Pretenders: A History of Bohemianism in America (New York: Covici, Friede, 1933), 60.
243 “a peculiar mixture”: Ibid.
243 “Decimal Currency, Weights, and Measures”: SP, March 3, 1866.
CHAPTER 17: ALL FALL DOWN
245 “C. Pfaff and die!”: SP, August 5, 1865.
246 On November 21, 1866: Donald Dulchinos, Pioneer of Inner Space: The Life of Fitz Hugh Ludlow (New York: Autonomedia, 1998), 231.
246 writing over the previous ten years: Ibid., 231.
246 Malkasten, as he dubbed it: Details about Bierstadt’s mansion from multiple sources, including Nancy Anderson and Linda Ferber, Albert Bierstadt: Art & Enterprise (Brooklyn: Brooklyn Museum, 1990).
246 “I am the happiest”: Gordon Hendricks, Albert Bierstadt: Painter of the American West (New York: Harry Abrams, 1975), 167.
246 “I pity the strange”: Dulchinos, Pioneer of Inner Space, 226.
246 “Fitz . . . from his long-continued”: Andrew Shores, “Fitz Hugh Ludlow, a Biography” (Union College, June 1980), 41.
247 “calling it ‘Camp Rattlesnake’”: Fitz Hugh Ludlow, The Heart of the Continent (New York: Hurd and Houghton, 1870), 433.
248 “Since Mr. Ludlow”: Atlantic, July 1870.
248 Ludlow died in a little cottage: Details from Helen Ludlow, sketch about her brother Fitz Hugh, Special Collections, Union College Schaffer Library.
249 “I have everything”: Reader, March 1903.
249 “would have made St. Anthony”: Victoria & Albert Museum, London, webpage.
249 “I have the advice”: Allen Lesser, Enchanting Rebel: The Secret of Adah Isaacs Menken (Philadelphia: Ruttle, Shaw & Wetherill, 1947), 210.
249 mind of a young Arthur Conan Doyle: Michael Foster and Barbara Foster, A Dangerous Woman: The Life, Loves, and Scandals of Adah Isaacs Menken (Guilford, CT: Lyons Press, 2011), 262.
249 “the face of the most beautiful”: Arthur Conan Doyle, Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1892), 12.
250 The French, even more than the British: Details of Menken’s run as an actress in Paris from multiple sources, including Foster and Foster, A Dangerous Woman.
251 “a very beautiful woman”: Ibid., 259.
252 “I am lost to art”: Bernard Falk, The Naked Lady: Life Story of Adah Menken (London: Hutchinson, 1934), 224.
252 “The Menken is dead”: Menken obituary, publication and date unknown, Special Collections, John Hay Library, Brown University.
252 Various accounts attributed it: Possible causes of death from various obituaries and reminiscences, including Chicago Tribune, April 28, 1878.
253 Menken had cobbled it together: Lesser, Enchanting Rebel, 212–213.
253 “Dear Miss Menken”: Adah Isaacs Menken, Infelicia (London: J. C. Hotten, 1868), dedication page.
253 His new act spoofed moving panoramas: Discussion of these from multiple sources, including John Pullen, Comic Relief: The Life and Laughter of Artemus Ward (Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1983).
254 “moonist”: T. W. Robertson and E. P. Hingston, Artemus Ward’s Lecture (New York: G. W. Carleton, 1869), 159.
254 “she fainted on Reginald’s breast”: Ibid., 185.
254 “that true Transatlantic type”: Don Seitz, Artemus Ward: A Biography and Bibliography
(New York: Harper and Brothers, 1919), 205.
254 “The audience fairly laughed”: Ibid., 198.
255 “He had that unfortunate desire”: Joseph Jefferson, The Autobiography of Joseph Jefferson (London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1889), 320.
255 he arranged for a pharmacist: Pullen, Comic Relief, 167.
255 “I am so fearfully weak”: Seitz, Artemus Ward, 211.
256 “Death has gathered”: New York Times, April 11, 1875.
256 post he would hold for forty-four years: Gloria Goldblatt, “Ada Clare: Queen of Bohemia” (unpublished manuscript, 1990, Billy Rose Theatre Collection, New York Public Library for the Performing Arts), 220.
256 not “genuine Boston”: M. A. DeWolfe Howe, The “Atlantic Monthly” and Its Makers (Boston: Atlantic Monthly Press, 1919), 81.
257 called “the vultures”: James Cross Giblin, Good Brother, Bad Brother: The Story of Edwin Booth & John Wilkes Booth (New York: Clarion Books, 2005), 208.
257 Edwin tossed in his brother’s costumes: Details from Otis Skinner, The Last Tragedian: Booth Tells His Own Story (New York: Dodd, Mead, 1939), 144.
257 “Stale lager-bier”: Round Table, May 19, 1866.
258 “I shall withdraw”: National Magazine, September 1905.
258 “If the name Ada Clare”: Ibid.
258 Clare dropped by the offices: Account of visit to agent’s office and dog bite from multiple sources, including Goldblatt, “Ada Clare.”
259 “Poor, poor Ada Clare”: WW to Ellen O’Connor, March 8, 1874, CW, The Correspondence, 2:285.
259 Aubrey would grow up to be an actor: Goldblatt, “Ada Clare,” 267.
260 “Henry Clark”: Daily Inter Ocean, August 12, 1888.
260 seen on the Bowery: Brooklyn Eagle, May 25, 1884.
260 “shriveled and shabby”: Detroit Free Press, April 18, 1875.
260 “actual want”: New York Daily Graphic, April 16, 1875.
260 “And now, my dear fellow”: Clapp to Edmund Stedman, May 14, 1874, Special Collections, Butler Library, Columbia University.
261 “He was a witty and pungent”: Frederick Douglass to George Clark, August 11, 1883, Raynors’ Historical Collectible Auctions, Burlington, NC, accessed online.
261 “Henry Clapp stepped out”: WWC, 1:236.
261 checked out was Thackeray’s: Clapp to Stedman, May 31, 1874, Special Collections, Butler Library, Columbia University.
261 “I have been feasting”: Ibid., May 22, 1874.
261 “With the death of Henry Clapp”: Boston Globe, April 13, 1875.
CHAPTER 18: “THOSE TIMES, THAT PLACE”
263 472 M Street: Gay Wilson Allen, The Solitary Singer: A Critical Biography of Walt Whitman (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1955), 379.
263 job for the US attorney general’s office: Details about WW’s job from multiple sources, including Dixon Wecter, “Walt Whitman as Civil Servant,” PMLA, December 1943.
264 “binding stipulation”: John Binckley to George Corhill, April 16, 1868, collection of scribal documents copied by WW while working in US attorney general’s office, accessed online at the Walt Whitman Archive.
264 “writ of error”: Henry Stanbery to Edwin Stanton, October 4, 1866, ibid.
264 “nolle prosequi”: J. Hubley Ashton to Benjamin Bristow, October 11, 1866, ibid.
264 “I am Sir”: Henry Stanbery to Schuyler Colfax, December 12, 1867, ibid.
264 “Often we would go”: WWC, 2:511.
265 “We took great walks”: Richard Maurice Bucke, ed., Calamus: A Series of Letters Written During the Years 1868–1880 by Walt Whitman to a Young Friend (Peter Doyle) (Boston: Laurens Maynard, 1897), 26.
265 “My love for you”: WW to Peter Doyle, August 21, 1869, CW, The Correspondence, 2:85.
265 In 1874, Emerson published: Details from Ralph Waldo Emerson, ed., Parnassus (Boston: Houghton, Osgood, 1880). An 1880 edition was consulted, but the content is the same as the first printing in 1874.
266 deemed “remarkable”: Ibid., Emerson’s introduction to the collection, x.
267 “the bigots, the dilettanti”: William Douglas O’Connor, The Good Gray Poet: A Vindication (New York: Bunce & Huntington, 1866), 38.
267 “He has been a visitor”: Ibid., 7–8.
267 On January 23, 1873: Allen, Solitary Singer, 447, meticulously identifies the date of WW’s stroke.
268 “After several hours”: Richard Maurice Bucke, Walt Whitman (Glasgow, Scotland: Wilson & McCormick, 1884), 46.
268 “hospital poison”: WW to Louisa Van Velsor Whitman, June 14, 1864, CW, The Correspondence, 1:233.
268 “whack,” as Whitman called it: David Reynolds, Walt Whitman’s America: A Cultural Biography, 4.
268 “Farewell my beloved sons”: Allen, Solitary Singer, 452.
269 “I shall range along”: WW to Eldridge, November 17, 1863, CW, The Correspondence, 1:185.
269 publish seven separate editions: Because such a variety of printings of Leaves of Grass appeared during Whitman’s lifetime, it is hard to pin down what truly qualifies as a separate edition. Scholars tend to credit Whitman with anywhere from six to twelve editions. I count seven after consulting a variety of sources, including Amanda Gailey’s essay “The Publishing History of Leaves of Grass,” published in A Companion to Walt Whitman, edited by Donald Kummings (Oxford: Blackwell, 2006). The seven: 1855, 1856, 1860, 1867, 1871–1872, 1881–1882, and 1891–1892.
270 “that unkillable work”: WW to Abby Price, July 30, 1866, CW, The Correspondence, 1:282.
270 “Walt Whitman, poet”: Brooklyn Eagle, July 11, 1886.
270 “the muffled sound”: Critic, April 23, 1887.
271 “He related the death”: William Barton, Abraham Lincoln and Walt Whitman (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1928), 211.
271 “He is a bird”: WWC, 8:348.
271 cut a deal with Mary Davis: Elizabeth Leavitt Keller, Walt Whitman in Mickle Street (New York: Mitchell Kennerley, 1921), 16.
271 Whitman would repair: Author’s tour of the Walt Whitman House, 330 Mickle Boulevard, Camden, NJ, September 27, 2013.
272 Vincent Van Gogh painted: Jean Schwind, “Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ and Whitman: A Study in Source,” Walt Whitman Quarterly Review (Summer 1985).
272 “in an upper spiritual”: Richard Maurice Bucke, “Portraits of Walt Whitman,” New England Magazine, March 1899.
272 On August 16, 1881: CW, Daybooks and Notebooks (New York: New York University Press, 1978), 1:253.
272 9 West 24th Street: As Pfaff’s address in 1881, ibid., 252.
272 “Ah, the friends and names”: CW, Prose Works, 1892, 1:277.
Further Exploration
While researching America’s first Bohemians, one of the great pleasures for me was exploring their remarkable work. This was a talented, eccentric, and passionate group, working during an especially tumultuous era in American history. Sadly, much of their output has been forgotten. But not gone: It’s thrilling to be able to hunt down assorted 150-year-old works and bits of realia, often with the aid of the very modern Internet. If you wish to learn more about these fascinating and startlingly forward-thinking artists, here are some recommendations.
EDWIN BOOTH (NOVEMBER 13, 1833–JUNE 7, 1893)
As the greatest tragedian of the nineteenth century, Edwin Booth’s work was necessarily confined to the stage—there were no movie side projects to capture his acting style for future generations. But late in life, Booth made a pair of wax-cylinder sound recordings in which he delivered brief passages from Hamlet and Othello.
Booth’s Hamlet has been lost. His Othello remains, however, though the sound quality is extremely poor. Still, there’s value in simply hearing Booth’s deep, sonorous voice and getting a flavor for his famous naturalistic acting style: unembellished, unhurried, almost languid. The rec
ording is widely available. It appears on many CDs such as Great Historical Shakespeare Recordings and a Miscellany (Naxos). It is also easy to find the recording on the Internet.
HENRY CLAPP JR. (NOVEMBER 11, 1814–APRIL 10, 1875)
Clapp’s hugely influential Saturday Press is filled with the works of the Pfaff’s set, providing a vivid record of America’s first Bohemia. Whitman’s best-known poem—“O Captain! My Captain!”—appeared first in the journal, as did such less familiar poems as “You and Me and To-Day,” later retitled “With Antecedents.”
The SP is also a great way to get to know the King of Bohemia himself in all his jaundiced glory. Each issue contains an editor’s note by Clapp, a showcase for his fierce wit. Not to be missed are Clapp’s book reviews, most of them scathing. He appears to have gotten a special relish from savaging popular works of the day such as George Eliot’s The Mill on the Floss. The SP is available at a handful of public and university libraries. Fortunately, all 157 issues are available online at the Vault at Pfaff’s, a digital archive maintained by Lehigh University.
ADA CLARE (JULY 1834–MARCH 4, 1874)
“Few women are strong enough,” wrote Ada Clare, “to choose between truth and the world’s good opinion.” She chose truth. In her provocative essays, the Queen of Bohemia was decades ahead of contemporaries, exploring such topics as the element of sadomasochism present in corsets, hoopskirts, and other women’s fashions of the day. Clare contributed a regular column, “Thoughts and Things,” to the Saturday Press and later became a columnist for the Golden Era.
Sadly, the Golden Era—an important publication and one that was to West Coast Bohemians what the SP was to those back East—is difficult to find. Only a handful of libraries have the publication, typically as an incomplete set. A few issues containing essays by Clare can be found online, such as the April 3, 1864, Golden Era featuring her satirical “The Man’s Sphere of Influence.” Clare makes all kinds of mischief in this essay by inverting nineteenth-century gender roles: “We do not want man to be too highly educated; we want him sweet, gentle, and incontestably stupid.”
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