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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.
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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.
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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
