The Crime and Its Results

The president had gone from Canton to Buffalo to visit the Pan-American exposition, and on Friday afternoon, September 6th, was holding a public reception in the temple of music, one of the large buildings on the exposition grounds. The assassin, Leon Czolgosz, with a revolver concealed by a handkerchief in one hand, joined the line and, approaching the president as if to accept the extended greeting, shot him twice in rapid succession. One ball struck the breastbone and did little injury; the other entered the abdomen, passed through the stomach, and lodged in the muscles of the back. The secret service men standing by the president’s side, and a negro close by, sprang upon Czolgosz, throwing him to the floor, and there is little doubt that only the prompt action of the police in getting him away to a station-house prevented the crowd from making an end of the miserable assassin then and there.
     The president was immediately removed to an emergency hospital on the grounds, and in less than a [292][293] couple of hours the first bullet had been extracted and an operation performed on the stomach by Dr. Matthew D. Mann, of Buffalo, without which the president probably would not have survived the week. Later in the evening he was removed to the home of John G. Milburn, president of the Pan-American exposition, and surrounded by the best surgical and medical skill, including such well-known men as Doctors Mann, Parke, and McBurney, and the McKinleys’ family physician, Dr. Rixey. For the first few days it was believed, and with increasing confidence, that Mr. McKinley would live, but gangrene set in on an extensive scale and death resulted at about two o’clock in the morning of Saturday, September 14th.
     The body lay in state, and was viewed by great throngs in the Buffalo city hall Monday, September 16th, in the capitol at Washington on Tuesday, and at Canton on Wednesday. The interment was at West Lawn Cemetery, Thursday afternoon, September 19th, the hour being marked in New York and many localities, large and small, throughout the country by practically complete stoppage of traffic and travel of every description. In fact, the funeral service of the day, so far from being confined to Canton, was a national affair. In accordance with President Roosevelt’s first proclamation, and instinctive public feeling, the day was observed by cessation of business and the holding of services, almost universally, throughout the country. More impressive testimonials, both domestic and foreign, have perhaps never been given anywhere upon similar occasion.