Due to the great amount of fat in the President’s midsection, Surgeon Munn was unable to follow the path of the bullet in McKinley’s stomach, and gave up finally, deciding to instead close the wound without removing the bullet. He also failed to drain the wound from the second bullet, allowing a rich environment to flourish for which sepsis to set in.
Dr. Roswell Park, Medical Director of the Exposition and one of the country’s most renowned physicians, had been performing a surgery in Niagara Falls when the emergency call came in, but by the time he was able to reach the Exposition site the surgery on President McKinley had been completed.
As doctors are wont to do, even a physician as esteemed and experienced as Roswell Park did not second-guess nor closely examine the work performed by Dr. Munn on the President, nor question thoroughly enough the details of his procedure.
Moreover, the President should have been taken thereafter to the General Hospital, but was instead inexplicably removed to the private home of Exposition President Milburn.
Secret service man Gallagher who was an eyewitness gave this firsthand account to the Buffalo Commercial:
“Parker struck the assassin in the neck with one hand and with the other reached for the revolver which had been discharged through the handkerchief and the shots had set fire to the linen. While on the floor Czolgosz again tried to discharge the revolver but before he got to the president the Negro knocked it from his hand.”
At Police Headquarters on The Terrace the crowd had grown huge. Throngs had followed hot on the detectives’ heels and were threatening to invade the structure. Police Superintendent Bull recognized the mounting crisis and realized a certain kind of respected personality was needed to handle the roiling mob.
“Send for Regan,” advised city officials.
Michael Regan was called in to take possession of the situation. Charging into the crowd on horseback with a dozen mounted police behind, he cleared the streets surrounding the building inside of an hour and had the President’s shooter taken quietly out a rear entrance and secreted in the old penitentiary on Trenton Avenue.
Regan then returned to headquarters and stood on the steps and shouted to the lingering horde, “Get out o’ this and go home. Yous should be ashamed of yerselves. And most o’ yous, bein’ my very own neighbors!”
They did go home.
The once-defiled and demoted Michael Regan, who had been stripped of his Captain’s rank and put back out on the street as a common patrolman for his enabling of the Sheehan election debacle of 1893, suddenly found himself on top once again, positioned to lead.
...
Vice President Teddy Roosevelt was summoned and quickly arrived in town from his upstate holiday.
Jim Sullivan along with three other detectives was reassigned to shadow Roosevelt, whom as Governor of New York State they had protected on numerous previous visits to the city. Roosevelt had become familiar with the faces of the Buffalo detectives who’d protected him over the years and placed his full trust in these men.
T.R. was the house guest at the Delaware Avenue mansion of Ansley Wilcox, the home located several blocks down the street from the Milburn mansion where the wounded President lay.
Fatigue notwithstanding, Detective Jim Sullivan was electrified by the assassination attempt. Whether shadowing Roosevelt on his visits to the ailing President, or standing guard outside the Wilcox home, he watched like a hawk for any suspicious person or unusual activity anywhere near the Vice President.
A short while after his arrival, assured by McKinley’s physicians of his impending recovery, Roosevelt left Buffalo to return to his family vacation in the Adirondack Mountains.
On September 10, Big Ben Parker appeared in the Pan American Exposition Mall, near the west gate. He had been presented with a season pass by the grateful Exposition Company. A group of people surrounded him, asking if he might sell pieces of his waistcoat and other garments. He politely retold his story to the crowd that had gathered and sold one button from his coat for $1. He provided a quote to the reporter from the Buffalo Times newspaper:
“I heard the shots. I did what every citizen of this country should have done. I am told that I broke his nose—I wish it had been his neck. I am sorry I did not see him four seconds before. I don’t say that I would have thrown myself before the bullets. But I do say that the life of the head of this country is worth more than that of an ordinary citizen and I should have caught the bullets in my body rather than the President should get them. I can’t tell you what I would have done and I don’t like to have it understood that I want to talk of the matter. I tried to do my duty. That’s all any man can do.
“I went to the Temple of Music to hear what speeches might be made. I got in line and saw the President. I turned to go away as soon as I learned that there was to be only a handshaking. The crowd was so thick that I could not leave. I was startled by the shots. My fist shot out and I hit the man on the nose and fell upon him, grasping him about the throat. I believe that if he had not been suffering pain he would have shot again. I know that his revolver was close to my head. I did not think about that then though. Then came Mr. Foster, Mr. Ireland and Mr. Gallagher. There was that marine, too. I struck the man, threw up his arm and then went for his throat. It all happened so quickly I can hardly say what happened, except that the secret service man came right up. Czolgosz is very strong. I am glad that I am a strong man also or perhaps the result might not have been what it was.
“I am a Negro, and am glad that the Ethiopian race has whatever credit comes with what I did. If I did anything, the colored people should get the credit.”
The President Is Dead.
Long Live The President.
Death came painlessly or so it was claimed. Since early evening the night before the President had been unconscious with occasional lucid intervals. In his wanderings he spoke of home and his longing to be there. In conscious moments he asked for his wife, who came close and was comforted by him.
“It is God’s way; His will be done,” the President said to her. To his loved ones gathered round his deathbed he weakly bid “Good-bye all, good-bye.” Then he lapsed into unconsciousness.
In the sick room the team of doctors toiled unremittingly to bring the President back to awareness and into a lucid state. They gave oxygen and stimulated him. When he again opened his eyes, without a moment to be lost they brought Mrs. McKinley to him for the final time.
She saw that he was dying but she did not falter.
Dr. Rixey was with her; she put her arms around her husband’s neck and she kissed him, then crooned over him, patting his ruby face, smoothing his brow already losing the warmth of life. The President, eyes open, looked and looked at her, gazing as if when he finally left her behind, her picture would be forever with him.
He lapsed into unconsciousness even as he gazed at her, and Mrs. McKinley was led out of the room.
President McKinley died at 2:15 in the morning.
As Theodore Roosevelt hurried back to Buffalo to assume his duties as President of the United States, he informed his aides, “The men who were guarding me last week when I was in Buffalo, I want the same men in their same places again.”
He was uncharacteristically nervous.
Among the reliable men T.R. had requested was Detective Jim Sullivan.
The whole city was bereft. First the terrible crime, followed by the optimism at the President’s recovery, then suddenly, with only hours’ warning, the shock of his death.
Buffalo, in the eyes of the many of the nation’s citizens, was to blame for this tragedy.
Alderman Sullivan was ill himself at this time, and in the Common Council meeting presided over by Mayor Diehl, when the resolution of condolence was passed expressing the body’s public statement of official grief, the Alderman’s signature was missing, as he was bedridden.
To help out at home, Hannah took charge of the younger children during much of the day to keep the Alderman’s house quiet and a
llow him his needed bed rest. Accustomed in recent years to her own small brood’s lack of needing her attention, she felt overwhelmed, reminded what it used to be like when her own house was just as full.
Emma Goldman had been arrested in Chicago and was charged with conspiracy in the murder of the President of the United States.
When shown the Associated Press dispatch announcing the death of the President, Goldman, the anarchist being held at the Harrison Street precinct station, carefully adjusted her glasses, read the bulletin, and after a moment’s pause, without any change in her expression, said, “Very sorry.”
Not a single shade of regret or pity colored her countenance, witnesses said.
“I do not see how that can affect my case,” she added, “if it is carried on lawfully and legally. They have no evidence against me. Chief Bull and Chief O’Neill have admitted they have none. They are holding me without evidence. The death of McKinley would only lengthen my term of imprisonment if they convicted me. I feel very bad for the sake of Mrs. McKinley. Outside of that I have no sympathy.”
Buffalo Detective Matt O’Laughlin secured two affidavits from persons who attended the meetings held by Emma Goldman in Cleveland where she had been approached by the assassin Czolgosz. They were to the effect that her utterances were of an anarchistic and inflammatory nature. The affidavits were hoped to secure extradition papers for Goldman’s removal to Buffalo for trial. Popular indignation caused the landlord who owned the house in which the Czolgosz family lived to order them out into the street.
Outside Police Headquarters where the assassin was being held, a crowd surged back and forth at the corner of Franklin and Erie. Daniel Girard, 20 years old of Cortland N.Y. fell unconscious from heart disease. Patrolman Dechart of the Fourth, and Connolly of the Tenth, carried him into Headquarters, where he was attended to by Dr. T.J. Martin, then allowed to depart.
Justice Murphy committed John Heintz age fourteen to the Rochester State Industrial School on the charge of petit larceny. The specific charge was that he stole 25 cents worth of nuts from a slot machine at the Pan-American Exposition. The Buffalo Express report did not mention for how long the boy would be imprisoned.
Rushing back to Buffalo upon receiving word of the President’s fast-approaching end, Theodore Roosevelt’s train arrived at the Exchange Street Station a little past one o’clock in the afternoon on September 14, the same station that had received the body of Abraham Lincoln 36 years before. There was no time to lose.
Roosevelt was met at the station by his friend Ansley Wilcox, whose guest he had been a few days previous when Roosevelt first arrived in Buffalo to visit the wounded President. It was decided that Roosevelt should continue on by train the short way from the Exchange Street Station to the Terrace Station to obviate a possible demonstration on busy Exchange Street.
From the Terrace Station the new President was escorted to his carriage along with his retinue. The carriages in Roosevelt’s convoy were heavily escorted by a platoon of police, including Jim Sullivan, as it headed up Delaware Avenue toward Ansley Wilcox’s home.
As the carriage passed Virginia Street, a block and a half from Wilcox’s mansion, Wilcox leaned over and pointed to the house at No. 472.
“That’s where Mark Twain used to live, T.R., when he resided here,” Wilcox said.
Teddy, a Twain admirer, looked at the lovely home, at that moment thinking to himself that the structure was from a time much less complicated and much less sad than the present.
Little did he know.
Jim Sullivan too, turned and looked at the home as he passed, a flood of memories returning him to age seventeen when he was in the employ of Samuel Clemens at this very house.
A minute later the new President’s carriage drew up in front of the black-shrouded columned portico of No. 641 Delaware, and Roosevelt went inside for a quick lunch with the Wilcox family. It was agreed that immediately following he must drive further up the street to the Milburn home to pay his final respects to the late President and to Mrs. McKinley, in preparation for the funeral.
To their dismay, Roosevelt ordered that the secret service and the battalions of police be discharged from further escort duty, but agreed to keep two mounted Buffalo police and four detectives, including Jim Sullivan.
The detectives and mounted police escorted Roosevelt and Wilcox the nine blocks north to the Milburn mansion, where Jim waited outside.
Roosevelt removed his top hat before entering the home. On the lawn some of President McKinley’s male relatives lingered, having a smoke.
“My condolences, gentlemen,” Jim said to them quietly, “My family is heartbroken.”
The relatives nodded somberly in acceptance as Detective Matt O’Laughlin walked around the back to the Milburns’ carriage house and inspected all sides to see if anything appeared to be amiss. Great crowds had gathered near the death house, but were being held back a respectful distance from the perimeter.
Inside, Theodore Roosevelt inquired for Mrs. McKinley, but did not see her. Nor did he carry out his original intention to view the remains of the dead President, lying at peace in the bed in which he had succumbed, upstairs. He spoke with acquaintances for about fifteen minutes, informing them of the change of plans, then left and entered his carriage, Jim and the other three detectives and the two mounted police following closely.
Judge Hazel soon thereafter arrived at the death house as also did Senator Chauncey Depew. They were told it was at the Milburn house that the swearing-in of the new President would take place. But Roosevelt had changed his mind, feeling the ceremony should occur away from the mournful death house.
Down the street, less than an hour later, Teddy Roosevelt stood in the library of the Wilcox mansion surrounded by Cabinet Members Attorney-General Knox, Secretary Hitchcock, Secretary Wilson and others. No one having had the forethought to summon a photographer, U.S. Secretary of War Elihu Root began, “Mr. Vice-president, I…”
His voice broke and then he stopped, remaining silent for a full minute, saying nothing, trying to maintain his composure. His fellow Cabinet members, gathered about, their eyes filled with tears, their heads bowed, mourned along with him the memory of the beloved man who had lost his life. Tears streamed down the cheeks of Secretary Root. Roosevelt, agitated and trembling, pulled nervously at the lapels of his frock coat.
Root then recomposed himself.
“I have been requested by all members of the Cabinet of the late President who are present in the City of Buffalo to request that for reasons of weight affecting the administration of the Government you should proceed to take the constitutional office of President of the United States.”
Roosevelt stepped toward Root and said, “I shall take the oath of office in accord with the request of you members of the Cabinet, and in this hour of our deep and terrible national bereavement I wish to state that it shall be my aim to continue absolutely unbroken the policy of President McKinley for the peace, prosperity and the honor of our beloved Country.”
Judge Hazel then took in hand a sheet of parchment on which was written the constitutional oath of office, and said, “Theodore Roosevelt, hold up your right hand.”
Judge Hazel read the oath and Col. Roosevelt repeated it after him: “I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States. And thus I swear.”
Then there was a long silence as Roosevelt dropped his chin to his chest as if in prayer.
Judge Hazel next said, “Mr. President, please attach your signature,” handing him the pen with which the new President used to sign his name.
After shaking hands solemnly, and conferring with members of the Cabinet, Roosevelt turned to War Secretary Root and asked him to take a little walk.
“It will do us both good,” T.R. said.
Ansley Wilcox, said, “Mr. President, shan’t I go along with you?”
> T.R. responded, “No, I am going to take a short walk up the street with Secretary Root and will return again.”
The men walked out onto the portico together as the house’s great black volume of mourning bunting strung between the columns fluttered overhead in the breeze. An enormous American flag hung over the short stairway. When they reached the foot of the walk, a couple of uniformed policemen, along with Detectives Sullivan and Lynch who were dressed in civilian garb, began to follow them. T.R. turned and told his secretary, Mr. Loeb, to tell the men that he did not desire protection. “I do not want to establish the precedent of going about guarded,” he said.
Jim tipped his hat respectfully at the request, but thought better of it. “This can’t happen twice, Jerry. We need to tail ‘im, regardless.”
They allowed the new President to walk up the street half a hundred yards or so, then began to follow at a distance, looking fore and aft all the while, Jim and Jerry Lynch trailing behind the President, and Detectives O’Laughlin and Zimmerman across Delaware Avenue on the opposite side. The President did not object. Roosevelt and Root walked as far as the police lines, where bystanders recognized Teddy as he said goodbye to Root and began to create a fuss.
As Root continued on his way, President Roosevelt turned on his heels and quickly headed back down Delaware Avenue toward the Wilcox Mansion, completely alone. Jim and Jerry panicked a bit and caught up to him respectfully with the intention of following behind, but Roosevelt now invited them to walk alongside him.
“I was told by Mr. Wilcox that one of your men here used to be in the employ of Mr. Mark Twain as a boy?” the President asked.
“Uh, it…uh, yes, I was, Mr. President,” Jim stuttered.
“Yes, Mr. Wilcox pointed out the Twain home as we arrived, and said you worked for him there for some years in fact?”
Fingy Conners & The New Century Page 25