Detectives Who Do Not Detect
In view of the awful tragedy which
befel [sic] President McKinley, at Buffalo on Friday last,
and which has filled the breasts of this nation with a dread apprehension
of fatal results—which Heaven forefend! [sic]—it is but natural
that the people should inquire, in their grief and just indignation,
how the dastardly deed was allowed to happen.
It is a thing incredible, that detectives
appointed especially to protect the President in such a motley crowd
as thronged the Exposition, and the ways to the Music Hall, where
stood the Chief Magistrate of the Nation in friendly greeting of
all who might approach—it is incredible, that they should permit
to walk up, in that slow moving procession, the deadly assassin—with
murder shining in his eyes—extending one hand in simulated friendship,
while with the other he held forth the revolver—simply concea[l]ed
in a handkerchief—from which he fired the shots that cut down the
foremost man of the world; and subverted, it maybe [sic],
the will and wishes of seventy-million of people!
Where were the detectives? For we
are told, that the assassin would have fired the third shot into
the President’s body, had he not been prevented by a negro man standing
there as a mere spectator—whose [qu]icker brain realizing the situation,
had interposed [?] strong arm and hurled the assassin to earth [?]
he would have finished the ingrate wretch, ha[d] [n]ot the detectives
awakened about this time, and prevented it!
Yes, they did awaken then, and stopped
the colored Hercules from pounding the life out of the malignant
anarchist—but which they had not done in time to shield the President!
In this country where the execution
of laws is for the most part benign—too benign—no one would like
openly, to advocate mob-law—yet, circumstances may arise in which
the conditions are intolerable—and this is an instance, in which
they did arise!
When an assassin strikes at the person
of a president, he strikes not at one man, but at the whole nation—his
crime is national, and his punishment should be commensurate with
What would one think of a body-guard
of soldiers—guarding the person of their general—who would permit
an assassin who had attempted his life, to live, to boast of the
assault? How much more important it is then, than the safe-guarding
of a general, that the President—the Commander in Chief of the Armies
and Navies, on land and sea—should be better guarded, by a more
efficie[n]t, and a sterner class of men, than were about him on
this occasion, when he came down from his high station to mingle
with all sorts and conditions of men.
All the emotions of the heart are
written in indelible characters on the human counten[a]nce, and
can be surely read by any “detective” worthy of the name. The anarchist,
Czolgoez, could not have marched up to the President, with a co[c]ked
pistol in his hand, with the full purpose of sl[a]yi[n]g him, under
the guise of friendship, without showing emo[tion], or excitement
in his eyes. And he did show it! But there was only one [acute?]
observer there to note this—Parker, [the] colored giant whose strong
arm [s]aved the President’s life—he said: “I saw the man’s eyes
looking at the President in a funny way?”
Where were the detectives all this
time that they could not see what Parker saw? But perhaps, their
intellects were beer-befogged and they could not formulate ideas
so quickly as he, hence, were slower to act.
Some one has said in extenuation,
that they were not expecting anything to happen; and they did not
believe that there was a man in that vast throng who would raise
his hand against the President who is so universally beloved. This
certainly is the reasoning of one possessed of but slight knowledge
of men, and a weak memory; he had forgotten that Lincoln and Garfield—so
beloved of the people—were murdered in cold blood; either one of
whom might have been saved, had there been a single, well-drilled
soldier as a guard, about his person.
This individual has also forgotten
that in this free land there is h[a]rbored the vile brood of Anarchists
who respect [no form of government, no] law, no religion, no God;
and that they are allowed to circulate their papers and to preach
their creed which is as the creed of Moloch, the “horrid king” of
the heathen, who demanded human sacrifices. It certainly is mistaken
kindness, if not the height of folly, to permit Anarchists to congregate
in this country—men who are hostes humani generis!—for it is the
nature of such ingrates to return evil for good.
Czolgosz said if he had not attacked
the President at the Exposition that he would have done so at the
Grand Army mee[t]ing at Cleveland. But this is not true, for the
coward[ly wretch] would never have attacked him there, [because
he?] knew well, that the old soldiers would have killed him on the
spot—they would have “torn him to pieces,” as a veteran has said.
For a like reason it is safe to surmise that no attack will ever
be made, in the Southland, upon the person of a president—for his
assailant would not survive the hour in which the attack was made.
All these things may be wrong and are to be deprecated; but if circumstance
cannot be controlled, it is the part of wisdom to recognize them
as they actually exist.
Since writing the above, we have learned
that the part played by the negro man, in the despatches [sic],
was overdrawn; however, the statements made in that regard, may
serve to show the necessity of having an adequate guard about the
President when his person is exposed to vast masses of people, such
as crowd around him at any public reception.