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His wife threw herself onto him and covered
him with her person to shield him from further violence. The ruffian
deliberately walked around her to find a place to shoot under her, and
finally raised her arm and put his revolver under it, and fired so she
could see the ball enter his head. They then fired the house, but through
the energy of the wife's sister, the fire was extinguished. The Judge had
been married less than a year. He was a young man, but had already won
considerable distinction in his profession. He had held the office of
Probate Judge for Douglas county, and a year before was candidate for
Attorney General of the State.
Mr. Fitch was called downstairs and instantly
shot. Although the second ball was probably fatal, they continued to fire
until they lodged six or eight balls in his lifeless body. They then began
to fire the house. Mrs. Fitch endeavored to drag the remains of her
husband from the house, but was forbidden. She then endeavored to save his
miniature, but was forbidden to do this. Stupefied by the scene, and the
brutality exhibited toward her, she stood there gazing at the strange
work going on around her, utterly unconscious of her position or her
danger. Finally one of the ruffians compelled her to leave the house, or
she would probably have been consumed with the rest. Driven out, she went
and sat down with her three little ones in front, and watched the house
consumed over the remains of her husband. Mr. Fitch was a young man of
excellent character and spirit. He was one of the "first settlers" of
Lawrence, and taught the first school in the place.
James Perine and James Eldridge were clerks in
the "County Store." They were sleeping in the store when the attack was
made and could not escape. The rebels came into the store and ordered them
to open the safe, promising to spare their lives. The moment the safe door
flew open, they shot both of them dead, and left them on the floor. They
were both very promising young men, about seventeen years of age.
Mr. Burt was standing by a fence, when one of
the rebels rode up to him and demanded his money. He handed up his pocket
book, and as the rebel took the pocket-book with one hand, he shot Mr.
Burt with the other. Mr. Murphy, a short distance up the same street, was
asked for a drink of water, and as the fiend took the cup with his left
hand he shot his benefactor with his right. Mr. Murphy was over sixty
years of age. Mr. Ellis, a German blacksmith, ran into the corn in the
park, taking his little child with him. For some time he remained
concealed, but the child growing weary began to cry. The rebels outside,
hearing the cries, ran in and killed the father, leaving the child in
its dead father's arms. Mr. Albach, a German, was sick in his bed. They
ordered the house cleared that they might burn it. The family carried out
the sick man on the mattress, and laid him in the yard, when the rebels
came out and killed him on his bed, unable to rise. These are species of
cruelty to which savages have never yet attained.
One of the guerrillas went to the stable of J.
G. Sands, corner of Pinckney and Tennessee Streets, stole his carriage
horse and the pet pony "Freddie," while engaged in this, four others came
up the alley, one of them was heard to say, "why in h____ are not these
houses burnt." Dismounting to execute their threat, they were met by
"Freddie" running past them, who had escaped from his captor, they were
urged to assist in securing the runaway, at once remounting they all
followed him, who lead them away from this part of town and before he was
again secured they were engaged in other scenes of murder. This
providential escape of the pony undoubtedly saved, not only the houses,
but also the lives of Dr. Fuller, B. W. Woodward and J. G. Sands.
G. H. Sargeant's was on New Hampshire street
between Winthrop and Henry. Early in the day the guerrillas entered the
house and robbed the inmates of all their valuables. Notice was given them
to remove furniture as the house would be burnt. Before applying the torch
one of the party assisted in carrying out the piano. During the burning
Mr. Sargeant, Charley Palmer and a Mr. Young, a printer, were in the yard,
also Mrs. Sargeant, a sister of J. G. Sands Esq., and Mrs. Mary Hanom. A
squad of ruffians fired a volley into the men killing Mr. Palmer, wounding
Mr. Sargeant, but missing Mr. Young, who dropped and feigned death.
Noticing life in Mr. Sargeant one of the men coolly reloaded his pistol
saying he "would soon finish him." Mrs. Sargeant at once fell on her
husband's prostrate body, begging for his life, but the murderer placed
the pistol above her shoulder and sent a ball crashing through his head.
Mr. Sargeant survived eleven days. By this time the body of Mr. Young was
terribly scorched by his nearness to the burning building, but his
presence of mind saved him. The ladies dragged him into the weeds, in line
with the other bodies, covered them with sheets and were know more
molested.
The courage shown by these ladies is seldom
matched by the soldier's in the excitement of a battle. On every side men
were falling, close to them Mr. Williamson was killed, near them Mr. Hay
was shot down. Bullets were flying all about them, but they stood guard
over the dead and dying.
The residence of F. W. Read was probably
visited by more squads than any other place, as it is situated in the
heart of the city. Seven different bands called there that morning. Mr.
read had been drilled with his company the day before and had left his gun
in the store, he started for it but was met at the door by robbers and
retreated back into his house. He ran up stairs and raised his head up to
look out of the window, when a bullet struck the window sill within six
inches of his right eye, the squad piled bedding and books at the foot of
the stairs and set it on fire to burn him out but Mrs. Read put the fire
out. The next squad were for stealing, after demanding as they all did
fire arms at first, they wanted money next and then helped themselves to
whatever they could find. They found in the back side of a bureau drawer a
little box containing a pair of gold and coral armlets used to loop up the
dress at the shoulder of their little girl Addie who had died a few months
before. Mrs. Read begged very hard that he would please not take them as
they had been her little dead child's and she wanted them to remember her
by, the brute replied with an oath "Damn your dead baby, she'll never need
them again." The next squad went in the bedroom, turned the clothes all
down, one took out a big bowie knife and cut the mattress for a yard while
another lit a match to set it on fire, it proved to be a hair mattress and
would not burn, they set the clothing on fire but it was put out. The next
squad that rode up, only came in the house, he looked and seemed satisfied
that there was not much left in the house worth carrying off, on looking
around he coolly said "this is all I want Madame" and stepped up to the
piano and with one jerk pulled off the piano cover which was a new and
very nice one, walked out took the saddle from his horse and put it on for
a saddle blanket. The next squad were half drunk and demanded with an oath
who had put the fire out, Mrs. Read told them she did and would do it
again, the order was given to hold that woman, a villain grabbed her by
the wrists and held her in a vice like grasp, while the others piled up
bedding and books on a cotton lounge under a window and set it on fire and
remained inside until the smoke drove them all on the porch where Mrs.
Read was dragged and held till the casing, curtains and drove them all on
the porch where Mrs. Read was dragged and held till the curtains and
lounge were burning up and out of the top of the window, when they let her
go and said, "Damn you, you can have your home now, if you will put it
out," and went away. Mrs. Read rushed through the smoke into the bedroom,
grabbed a pillow in each hand, and thus protected, shoved against the
window which was so burned that it fell out on the ground and the home was
saved. The next squad was commanded by and officer who inquired for Mr.
Read, and was told that he had gone east for goods. "Where was your
store?" She pointed to where Woodward's Drug Store now is, corner
Massachusetts and Henry street, and replied there it is all burning up.
One man in his squad immediately replied yes there has some one gone east
from that store, there had, it was P.R. Brooks who was then clerking for
Mr. Read, which showed how well posted they were and that their spies had
been here and done their work only too well. Mrs. Read said "you seem to
be an officer, look at this house and at that burning store and say if you
have not punished us enough." The officer turned to his men and gave the
command, "men go away from here and tell all the other squads no to molest
these premises any more today, this family has been punished enough," and
he remained on the porch for one half hour. He was the only one Mrs. Read
saw that day that did not act the brute, and is believed to be a man who
is of high respectability now living in
Missouri. The last man that came
was named Skeggs, to tell what he done would make this story too long, he
was fiendish and brutal, he staid too long and was killed, the only one of
the rebels known to have been killed.
Mr. Thornton had remained in his house till it
was in flames. He then ran out and they shop him three times in the hips.
Another shot struck him back of the shoulders, and passed clear down his
back. Another shot struck his head. The rebel then leaped from his horse
with a brutal oath exclaimed: "I can kill you," and pounded him over the
head with the butt end of his revolver till he fell senseless from
exhaustion. The man was going to shoot again, but Mrs. Thornton ran
between them and prevented him, and the brute soon left. Though so
terribly shot Mr. Thornton still lived, but two bullets in the hip joints
could never be extracted, and he was a cripple for life.
D.W. Palmer, a gunsmith, was wounded and
thrown into the flames of his burning shop. Mr. Langley lived about a mile
from town. He was a fine old gentleman of sixty. He was a peaceable man,
taking no special part in public affairs. He and wife lived by themselves
on a small farm. Two of the pickets stationed outside the town came to the
house. Mrs. Langley begged them "to be merciful: they were old people and
could not live long at best." But her entreaties had not effect, they
hunted the old gentlemen around the house and shot him in the yard. The
first shot not doing its work they shot him again and again. They then set
fire to the house, but through the energies of the old lady the fire was
put out and the house saved.
There were many hair-breadth escapes. Many
ran to the cornfields near to town; others fled to the "friendly
brush" by the river bank. The ravine which runs almost through the center
of town, proved a safe refuge to scores. The cornfield west of town and
the woods east, were all alive with refugees. Many hid in the "Park" which
was planted with corn. Many others who could get no further, hid among the
weeds and plants in their gardens. Mr. Strode, colored blacksmith, had a
little patch of tomatoes, not more than ten feet square. He took his money
and buried himself among the vines. The rebels came up and burned his shop
not more than ten feet off but did not discover him.
Mr. Hampson, who had been, shot lay wounded
close by a burning building. It would be certain death to show signs of
life. His wife, therefore, who stood by him, asked on of the rebels to
help carry her husband's body away from the flames. He took hold of
Hampson and carried him out of reach of the fire without discovering that
he was alive. As soon as she could, his wife helped him on a hand-cart,
and covered him up with rags, and then drew the whole away out of danger.
The rebels she passed thought her crazy for "drawing off that load of old
rags."
One of the most wonderful escapes was that of
Reverend H.D. Fisher. We give an account of it in his own words: "When
Quantrill and his gang came into our town, almost all were yet in their
beds. My wife and second boy were up, and I in bed, because I had been
sick of quinsy. The enemy yelled and fired a signal. I sprang out, and my
other children, and we clothed ourselves as quick as it was possible. I
took the two oldest boys and started to run for the hill, as we were
completely defenseless and unguarded. I ran a short distance, and felt I
would be killed. I returned to my house, where I had left my wife with
Joel, seven years old, and Frank, six months old, and thought to hide in
our cellar. I told Willie, twelve years old, and Eddie ten years old to
run for life, and I would hide. I had scarcely found a spot in which to
secrete myself, when four murderers entered my house and demanded of my
wife, with horrid oaths, where that husband of hers was, who was hid in
cellar. She replied, "The cellar is open you can go and see for
yourselves. My husband started over the hill with the children." They
demanded a light to search. My wife gave them a lighted lamp, and they
came, light and revolvers in hand, swearing to kill me a first sight. They
came within eight feet of where I lay, but wife's self-possession in
giving the light had disconcerted them, and they left without seeing me.
They fired the house in four places; but my wife by almost superhuman
efforts, and with baby in arms, extinguished the fire. Soon after, three
others came and asked for me. But she said, "Do you think he is such a
fool as to stay here? They have already hunted for him, but thank God!
They did not find him." They then completed their work of pillage and
robbery, and fired the house in five places, threatening to kill her if
she attempted to extinguish it again. One stood, revolver in hand to
execute the threat if it was attempted. The fire burned furiously. The
roof fell in, then the upper story, and then the lower floor; but a space
about six by twelve feet was by great effort kept perfectly deluged with
water by my wife to save me from burning alive. I remained thus concealed
as long as I could live in such peril. At length, and while the murderers
were still at my front door and all around lot watching for their prey, my
wife succeeded, thank God, in covering me with an old dress and a piece of
carpet, and thus getting me out into the garden and to the refuge of a
little weeping willow covered with morning glory vines, where I was
secured from their fiendish gaze and saved from their hellish thirst for
my blood. I still expected to be discovered and shot dead. But a neighbor
woman who had come to our help, aided my wife in throwing a few things
saved from the fire over and around the little tree where I lay, so as to
cover me more securely."
Honorable S. A. Riggs, District Attorney, was set
upon by the vilest ruffian of the lot. His wife rushed to his side at
once. After a short parley the man drew his revolver and took aim. Mr.
Riggs pushed the revolver aside and ran. The man started after him, but
Mrs. Riggs, seized hold of the bridle rein and clung to it till she was
dragged round a house, over a wood pile, and through the yard back on to
the street again. Mr. Riggs was still in sight, and the man was taking aim
at him again, when Mrs. Riggs seized the other rein and turned his horse
round, and Mr. Riggs was beyond reach. All this time the man was swearing
and striking at her with his revolver, and threatening to shoot her.
Old Mr. Miner hid among the corn in the Park.
Hearing the racket around Mr. Fisher's house near by, he ventured to the
edge of the corn to gratify his curiosity. He was seen and immediately
shot at. He ran back into the corn, but had not preceded far before he
heard them breaking down the fence. The corn was evidently to be searched.
He ran, therefore, through the corn, and lay down among the weeds beyond.
The weeds only partially covered him, but it was the best he could do. He
had scarcely laid down when the rebels came dashing through the corn, and
stationing a picket at each corner of the field to prevent escape, they
searched the field through but found no one. They did not happen to look
among the grass almost at their very feet.
Near the center of town was a sort of out door
cellar with a very obscure entrance. A woman, whose name we have been
unable to obtain, but who ought to be put on record as one of the heroines
of that day, took her station at a convenient distance from that cellar.
Every poor fugitive that came into that region, she directed into this
hidden cellar. Thus eight or ten escaped from the murderers. Finally, the
rebels noticing that their victims always disappeared when they came into
this locality, suspected this woman of aiding in their escape. They
demanded of her that she should show their hiding place. She refused. One
of them drew his revolver, and pointing it at her said, "Tell us or I will
shoot you." "You may shoot me," answered the brave woman, "but you will
not find the men." Finding they could not intimidate her, the left.
Mr. Bergen was wounded and then taken off with
six or eight other prisoners. After taking them a short distance, their
captors shot all of them dead but Mr. Bergen. He was lying down
exhausted from loss of blood, and for some reason they passed him by.
There he lay among the dead, feigning death. After lying a short time, a
rebel rode up, and discovering he was not dead, took aim at his head and
fired. He felt the ball pass and instinctively dropped his head, and the
rebel supposing he had completed his work, rode off. His head was now
brought under the body of a young man who had been killed with the rest.
There he lay, the living under the dead, till the rebels left town. At one
time, the young man's mother came to wash the blood from the face of her
murdered son. Mr. Bergen begged her not to move her son's body, as his
only hope of life was in laying his head under the lifeless corpse.
Several saved themselves by their ready wit.
An officer in the camp of recruits, when the attack was made, ran away at
full speed. He was followed by several horsemen, who were firing at him
continually. Finding escape impossible, he dashed into the house of a
colored family, and in the twinkling of an eye, slipped on a dress and
shaker bonnet, passed out the back door and walked deliberately away. The
rebels surrounded the house, and then some of them entered and searched,
but found no prey.
A son of John Speer hid for some time under
the side walk. The fire soon drove him into the street, which was full of
rebels. He went boldly up to them and offered his services in holding
horses. They asked his name, and thinking that the name Speer would be his
death warrant, he answered "John Smith, and he remained among them
unharmed to the last.
One man was shot as he was running away, and
fell into the gutter. His wife thinking him, killed, began to wring her
hands and scream. The rebel thinking from this her husband was dead, left.
As soon as he was gone, the man said, "Don't take on so, wife, I don't
know as I am hit at all." And so it proved.
Mr. Winchell, being hard pressed, ran into the
house of Rev. Charles Reynolds, Rector of the Episcopal Church. Mrs.
Reynolds at once arrayed him in female attire, and shaved off his
moustache with a knife, and set him in a rocking chair with a baby in his
arms, and christened him "Aunt Betsie." The rebels searched the house but
did not disturb "Aunt Betsie."
Mr. G. Grovenor, had a narrow and almost
providential escape. He lived where he now does corner of Berkely and New
Hampshire streets. While standing on his porch a rebel rode up within ten
feet of him and snapped his pistol at him, it missed fire. It failed the
second time, but at that instant, another gang rode up and the leader said
"don't shoot that man," and told Mr. Grovenor to go to the cellar or
somewhere. The house was now in flames, but he secreted himself in the
cellar under the back kitchen, until the danger had passed. One gang
ordered Mrs. Grovenor to draw water for themselves and their horses. A
young man, more human than the others alighted from his horse, and told
her he would draw the water. This young man said he had no idea that any
such murderous work was contemplated. He was told, they were going to
re-capture some horses that had been stolen. He had not killed anyone nor
set fire to any houses and was not going to.
General Lane, who was of course among the
first sought for, hearing them coming, jumped from his bed, seized an ax
and chopped the door plate from his front door and then fled in his night
clothes to the corn field west of his house, taking the door plate with
him; passing through the field he obtained clothes from a house on the
outskirts of town and commenced to gather a posse for resistance and
pursuit.
John Speer had a son 17 years of age who was
sleeping in the Republican office building, and not the slightest
trace of him has ever been found. Another son was also brutally murdered.
Mr. Joseph Savage who lives two miles
southwest of town had just arose and was out back making his morning
toilet. When he heard the tramp of horses feet coming up the road, and
presently heard a loud knocking at the door. He supposed the horsemen were
Union troops and the caller, a soldier who wished to make some inquiry.
After completing his toilet he opened the door, and the man who had
evidently come to murder him was just going out the gate. Mr. Savage owes
his life to the deliberate manner in which he performed his morning wash.
Among the last brutal murders perpetrated, was
the killing of Mr. Stone and two or three others at the City Hotel or
Whitney House, where
Quantrill had promised protection and as far as he
knew evidently kept his word. But two drunken ruffians, came at the last
and hearing the weeping and wailing of some women who had just heard that
their husbands were lying in the street dead, demanded what all the fuss
was about? On being told, they replied, "we'll give you something to
cry for," and immediately commenced firing into the hotel which was full
of people. The old man stone as he was called, was the first to fall, at
least two others were killed and several wounded.
"As the scene at their entrance was one of the
wildest, the scene after their departure was one of the saddest that ever
met mortal gaze. Massachusetts street was one bed of embers. On this one
street, seventy-five buildings, containing at least twice that number of
places of business and offices, was destroyed. The dead lay all along the
sidewalk, many of them so burned that they could not be recognized, and
scarcely be taken up. Here and there among the embers could be seen the
bones of those who had perished in the buildings and been consumed. On two
sides of another block lay seventeen bodies. Almost the first sight that
met our gaze, was a father, almost frantic, looking for the remains of his
son among the embers of his office. The work of gathering and burying the
dead soon began. From every quarter they were being brought in, until the
floor of the Methodist Church, which was taken as a sort of hospital, was
covered with dead and wounded. In almost every house could be heard the
wail of the widow and orphan. The work of burial was sad and wearying.
Coffins could not be procured. Many carpenters were killed, and most
living had lost their tools. But they rallied nobly, and worked night and
day, making pine and walnut boxed, fastening them together with the burnt
nails gathered from the ruins of the stores. (It sounded rather harsh to
the ears of friends, to have the lid nailed over the bodies of their loved
ones; but it was the best that could be done.) Thus the work went on for
three days, till one hundred and twenty-two were deposited in the
Cemetery, and many others in their own yards. Fifty-three were buried in
one long grave. Early on the morning after the massacre, our attention was
attracted by loud wailings. We went in the direction of the sound, and
among the ashes of a large building, sat a woman, holding in her hands the
blackened skull of her husband, who was shot and burned in that place. Her
cries could be heard over the whole desolated town, and added much to the
feeling of sadness and horror which filled every heart."
The rebels were in the town from about five
o'clock until nine. About that time a body of United States mounted
troops, who had left Kansas City the night before, as soon as
Quantrill's
movement were known, were seen approaching from the east about eight miles
distant. The rebel pickets saw them first from the hill where the
university now stands. The forces were at once called together and they
left town by the road leading south, thus avoiding the troops. These
latter struck across the prairie and overtook the rebels about ten miles
south of
Lawrence. For some reason, no attack was made, and the two bodies
marched in sight of each other all day, and at night the rebels escaped to
their hiding places in
Missouri. The first ten miles of their route out of
town was marked by burning farm buildings and haystacks -- they continuing
their murderous work.
The population of
Lawrence was about 2,000,
and there could not have been more than 400 men, a very large number being
in the army. The proportion of killed among these was vastly greater than
in the bloodiest battle of the war. There were left about eighty widows
and 250 orphans. The whole number killed was about one hundred and fifty.
One hundred and forty-three bodies were found and buried. Several were
killed and burned in buildings and their bodies never found, twenty five
were wounded, two of whom died a few days after.
There were between 300 and 400 in the company.
About one-half were rebel cavalry thoroughly drilled; the other half were
the ruffians of the border. They were the same clans who had disturbed the
country in the early days of
Kansas
-- "the border ruffians." They
remembered their former defeat, and for all these years had been nursing
their wrath to keep it warm. The former clan were the most effective, the
latter, the most brutal.
Quantrill was once a school teacher in Ohio.
He came to
Kansas before the war and lived in
Lawrence six months. He went
by the name of Charly Hart. He boarded at the City Hotel, where he kept
his prisoners during the slaughter. He became implicated in a horse
stealing affair, which at that time was a fatal disease, and left for
parts unknown. When the war broke out he found it convenient to take his
place on the rebel side of the line. His fate has always been involved in
mystery. He has been reported killed at a dozen different times, and has
been reported as living in half a dozen different places. There is little
doubt however, but he was killed or disabled in the spring following the
raid. About June 1864 he very suddenly disappeared from the field of
action, and was never present again. There is a belief that he died of
wounds and disease some time after this in the hospital at Louisville,
which is not unlikely.
Conclusion
Many other states including Ohio, Indiana and
Pennsylvania had severe raids during the war, but none that approached the
Quantrill Raid in complete destruction of life and property. The
Legislature of their states have assumed the losses and paid the
sufferers, while the Legislature of
Kansas have never done anything for
the widows and orphans, whose husbands and fathers helped cut out from the
"Great American Desert" the best and richest agricultural state that God's
bright sun ever shone upon.
Notwithstanding there is about money enough in
the State Treasury to pay it, or the fact that it would be only a tax of
one mill on the dollar each year for four years, if it were necessary to
raise the funds that way, there is a moral certainty that the United
States would assume the debt and pay back to the state the just claim it
has been reserved for the legislature of 1865 to immortalize themselves,
by paying a bill for their relief, which in justice they should and we
have no doubt but will do.
Killed 134, Wounded 22, Missing 3.
Added March, 2009
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About
the Article: The Lawrence Massacre is based on a letter written by
Reverend Richard Cordley, pastor of the Congregational Church and eye
witness to Quantrill's Raid on
