My father was not in Buffalo at the time of President McKinley’s assassination, but, like every one in the country, he was deeply moved and shocked by the tragedy. A friend who had been in constant attendance on the President during his visits to the fair grounds wrote to my father: “I remember distinctly on two occasions when we were driving about the grounds, the President called my attention to the inscriptions, reading some of them as we passed along. He was deeply impressed by them and knew that we owed them to you. He read some of them aloud on his last ride to the Temple of Music as we passed along the Liberal Arts Building.”
     On the day of the funeral, my father wrote to a friend:—