Infamous America - BOOTH Ep. 5 | "American Brutus"

Episode Date: April 28, 2020

Booth and Herold attempt a dangerous river crossing and it does not go as planned. Edwin Stanton's manhunt snares more conspirators, including those who helped Booth during the escape. And in Washington, hundreds of thousands of people pack the capital city for the funeral ceremonies of President Lincoln. For more details, please visit www.blackbarrelmedia.com. Our social media pages are: @blackbarrelmedia on Facebook and Instagram, and @bbarrelmedia on Twitter. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Five years before the assassination, John Wilkes Booth was rehearsing a play in Richmond, Virginia. He noticed a militia unit called the Richmond Gray's preparing to board a train. They were on their way to Charlestown, Virginia, for a hanging, but not just any hanging. This was a special hanging, if there was such a thing. U.S. troops and Virginia militia units were being sent to guard the proceeding. Among them were cadets from the Virginia Military Institute, who were chaperone and a general. by their eccentric instructor of natural philosophy, Thomas Jackson. In two years, he'd be known by another name, Stonewall.

Booth asked the young men of the Richmond Grays if he could join them for the trip. They found him a uniform, and he hopped on the train. He rode up to Charlestown and stood in a field with hundreds of other soldiers. This was as close as he would ever get to serving in the army. He was pretending, which was what he did best. About 10 o'clock in the morning, on December 2nd, 1859, the condemned man arrived. He rode in a wagon and sat on top of his coffin. The troops around the Gallows braced for a violent uprising.

After all, that's what this man had dedicated his adult life to. He was John Brown, the fanatical abolitionist. He and his sons had killed five people with swords during the events known as Bleeding Kansas. Two months ago, he and his supporters stormed the federal arsenal at Harper's Ferry. Their goal was to steal weapons and then lead a slave revolt that he hoped would end slavery for good. The plan didn't work, and he had been captured by a unit of Marines under the command of Brevet Colonel Robert E. Lee. A year and a half later, Lee would be offered command of the entire U.S. Army by the new president, Abraham Lincoln. And Lee would turn him down.

Here, in December 1859, John Brown was being hanged for treason, murder, and leading an insurrection. He was reviled by people in the South who could think of nothing worse than a slave uprising. But Booth admired Brown's qualities. He hated Brown's goals, but he admired Brown's willingness to act openly and with force. Booth stood in the crowd in his borrowed uniform and watched John Brown climb the steps to the platform of the gallows. Brown was not allowed to make a final statement. Instead, he'd written a note and given it to his jailer. It essentially predicted the Civil War.

The note said, I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood. I had, as I now think, vainly flattered myself that without much bloodshed, it might be done. Exactly five years later, Booth wrote a letter about the recent re-election of President Lincoln. He said Lincoln was not fit to stand in the footprints of an inspiring and rugged hero like John Brown. And then, four months later,

Booth assassinated President Lincoln. In doing so, Booth thought he would be hailed as a hero by the South in the same way that many in the North hailed John Brown as a hero. Booth no doubt thought that a song would be composed by some grateful citizen of the Confederacy that glorified his deed the way the song John Brown's body had become the anthem of the North. That song had been transformed by Julia Ward Howe into the standard we now call the Battle Him of the Republic. But as John Wilkes Booth sat in a pine thicket in southern Maryland, he felt his dreams of glory fade away. John Brown had been reviled by some and loved by others. Booth was reviled by everyone.

His journey was no longer about parading into the South's. as a conquering hero. It was simply about survival. And on this night, he was finally ready to take the next step. Welcome to Infamous America. I'm your host, Chris Wimmer. This is a seven-part series about one of the largest manhunts in American history, the search for John Wilkes' booth after he assassinated President Abraham Lincoln. Here's Chapter 5, American Bruges. On Tuesday morning, April 18, 1865, Three days after the death of the President, thousands of people lined the street around the White House. The immense crowd stretched for more than a mile.

For eight hours, they filed into the East Room to view the body of President Lincoln. Many people kissed his coffin as they passed. They moved quietly and respectfully. One observer noted that prejudices seemed to be left behind for the time being. The observer said that the refined and cultured walked side by side with the poor and downtrodden and the emancipated slaves. No one seemed to care about societal and racial divides. Many cried, and some left little tokens beside the coffin.

And while the citizens grieved, the manhunters kept hunting. Tips rolled in quickly now. After Mary Sorat had been arrested yesterday, detectives learned about her tavern in the Maryland countryside. Investigators went to Sarat'sville and learned that the man who rented the tavern knew the actor John Wilkes Booth. The tavern keeper, John Lloyd, had fled the area after he'd heard about the assassination,

but then he decided to come back. He thought it would look more suspicious if he was absent. He was on his way home when detectives stopped him on the road. They arrested him and took him back to Washington for interrogation. On the same day, investigators learned about a doctor in southern Maryland named Samuel Mudd. The doctor's cousin George gave them a tip. Dr. Mudd had grown very nervous after Booth and Harold left his farm. He confided in his cousin George that two strangers had arrived at his house in the middle of the night.

That night had turned out to be the night of the assassination. One of the strangers had a broken leg. The doctor treated the injury and the two men left the following evening. Dr. Mudd asked his cousin to take the information to the cavalry that was portrayed. controlling the area. He thought that if he volunteered the information through his cousin, he would look less suspicious. On Tuesday the 18th, the cavalry followed up on Cousin George's tip. An investigator rode to Dr. Mudd's farm and questioned him about the visitors he'd received

three nights ago. Mud was evasive. He gave vague answers and claimed he didn't know the strangers. He did not recognize the man whose leg he treated. He also said the two men had ridden west when they left his house. In reality, they'd ridden south. The investigator didn't know that yet, but he didn't trust Mud. He thought Mud was guilty of something, but he couldn't prove it.

He planned to return at a later date and arrest him. The funeral for President Abraham Lincoln happened the next day, Wednesday, April 19th. The president's body was still in the east room of the White House. He lay in a mahogany coffin with a white satin interior. The upper lid was open so that his head and shoulders were visible. One observer said he looked quiet and natural, despite the fact that his traumatized right eye was still black and swollen. The room had two huge chandeliers that were now draped in black.

The rest of the room was likewise decorated in black. The window shades were pulled down and the light was dimmed. 600 people crowded into the room for the service. including the president's sons, Robert and Tad. Mary Lincoln was too overwhelmed with grief to attend. When the service was finished, the president's casket was loaded into an elaborate hearse that was drawn by six gray horses.

The hearse left the White House and moved out into Pennsylvania Avenue. It was greeted with a spectacle that the country had never seen before. Thousands of people had streamed into Washington to be part of the ceremonies. Every hotel was sold out. It was said that as many as 6,000 people slept on the floors in the hotel lobbies just to be there. Every building and light post and fence was draped with black crape. People who couldn't afford such lavish decorations used little bits of black ribbon or cloth. Spectators lined the avenue 12 deep.

They stood on every rooftop. They hung out of every window. Kids climbed up into trees to get better vision. views of the largest procession the city had ever witnessed. It was estimated that 40,000 people marched behind the hearse as it traveled toward the Capitol. Every type of societal group in the city was represented. Every branch of the military was there. And Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton, made sure that African-American troops were given a prominent place. The journey from the White House to the Capitol was only about a mile and a half, but just one military unit in the procession

stretched for more than two miles. When the hearse finally arrived at the Capitol, eight soldiers carried the President's casket into the rotunda. A select few people were allowed to view the President's body in the Capitol that day, including General Ulysses S. Grant and President Andrew Johnson. The following day, the doors of the Capitol opened at 8 a.m. for a public viewing. Another 25,000 people walked past the coffin to pay their final respects to Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln. Around the nation, church services were coordinated to take place at the same time as

the President's funeral. Reports estimated that around 25 million people attended the services. If true, that was only 6 million shy of the total population of the United States of America. On April 20th, four hours before the people of Washington began their second viewing of President Lincoln, another conspirator was arrested. At 4 a.m., The cavalry surrounded a house in Germantown, Maryland, 30 miles north of Washington. A sergeant banged on the door. The son of the homeowner answered. The cavalry had received a tip about a suspect who might be staying at the house. The young man talked about his cousin who had been there earlier, but had left for another town. A sergeant announced that he was going to

search the house anyway. Three soldiers pushed past the young man. As they moved from room to room, they discovered the other family members, and then the cousin who called himself Atwood. In reality, he was George Atserrat. Edwin Stanton's forces finally located the man who was supposed to kill Vice President Andrew Johnson. They hauled him back to Washington for interrogation. When the sun rose that morning

and people all over the country grabbed their newspapers to read about the latest happenings in the manhunt, the citizens of Philadelphia received a treat. A letter from John Wilkes Booth was printed in the Philadelphia Inquirer. It was dated 1864 and it was likely written six months earlier in November 1864, right after the president's re-election. It laid out Booth's political and ideological beliefs and talked about the kidnapping plan. Booth had given the letter to his sister Asia in Philadelphia.

She and her husband put it in a safe, unopened, and forgot about it. After the assassination, they remembered it and opened the envelope. Asia's husband thought they should publish it because it would show that they had no knowledge of the assassination plot. The letter had remained sealed all this time, so they couldn't have known about Booth's plan. The husband took the letter to a local provost marshal. The marshal agreed to the publication. The next day, it appeared in the paper. It would be more than four pages long by our modern typewritten standard.

Here's some of what Booth said. To whom it may concern, I love peace more than life, have loved the union beyond expression. For four years I have waited, hoped, and prayed for the dark clouds to break and for the restoration of our former sunshine. To wait longer would be a crime. All hope for peace is dead. I have ever held the South were right. The very nomination of Abraham Lincoln four years ago spoke plainly.

War, war upon southern rights and institutions. His election proved it. This country was formed for the white, not for the black man. And looking upon African slavery from the same standpoint held by those noble framers of our Constitution, I, for one, have ever considered it one of the greatest blessings that God ever bestowed upon a favored nation. When I aided in the capture and execution of John Brown, I was proud of my little share in the transaction,

for I deemed it my duty and that I was helping our common country to perform an act of justice. My love, as things stand today, is for the South alone. Nor do I deem it a dishonor in attempting to make for her a prisoner of this man, to whom she owes so much of misery. A Confederate doing duty upon his own responsibility, Jay Wilkes Booth. The publication plan did not have the desired effect. Edwin Stanton ordered the arrest of two of Booth's brothers and his brother-in-law.

They were taken to Washington, like everyone else. On the same day the letter was published, and while thousands of people streamed into the Capitol to view President Lincoln, Stanton issued a staggering reward. He created wanted posters with photos of Booth, David Harold, and John Sarant. The flyers offered $100,000 total for information that led to the assassin and his two remaining conspirators. The bounties were $50,000 for Booth and $25,000 each for Harold and Sarant. Down in Southern Maryland, Thomas Jones heard about the reward.

He could earn $75,000 in the blink of an eye if he led the cavalry to the Pine Thicket, where Booth and Harold were hiding. Jones was maybe one of three people who knew they were there. During the war, he'd lost all his money in his farm and his wife while helping the South. Now he had the chance to make the equivalent of more than $1 million in today's money, and he didn't take it. He'd given his word that he would get the two fugitives across the Potomac River, and he meant to do it.

At the same time, he learned about the reward, he heard that the manhunter's were moving east. For days, they'd sorted and sifted through almost every inch of Charles County, but they hadn't found a hint of Booth or Herald. Now they were moving east into St. Mary's County, which encompassed the peninsula that jutted into the Chesapeake Bay. For Booth and Harold, it was now or never. Jones hurried to the pine thicket to tell them that they would cross the river tonight.

It was dark by the time Jones reached the thicket and delivered the news. Booth and Harold must have been overjoyed. They'd been hiding in the woods for five days and four nights, and now they were finally, finally going to cross the Potomac River into Virginia. But like every inch of their journey since Booth jumped down from the president's box at Ford's Theater, it was going to be tough. They needed to make it to Jones's house near the river. They would use his boat to cross,

but his house was two and a half miles away, and they only had one horse, Jones's horse. Jones and Harold heaved Booth into the saddle. Every movement caused the actor to groan in pain. When Booth was situated, Jones moved out in front to act as their guide and scout. Harold led the horse by the reins, and he began the trek to Jones's house. Reports say it was foggy that night. Booth and Harold would have moved almost blindly through unfamiliar territory.

Jones was 50 yards up ahead. he was barely visible in the mist, and sometimes he was lost completely. They navigated a patchwork of cart paths and hidden trails and public roads. Jones often stopped dead in his tracks as if he heard something. He stood stock still and waited. When he felt it was safe, he whistled, and they continued. They passed two houses in the darkness, and both passings were nerve-wracking experiences. One was home to a large family that always had lots of kids running around.

The other was home to a family with several dogs. Their anxiety was sky high, but they slipped by both houses without raising any alarms. Somewhere between 9 p.m. and 10 p.m., they arrived at Jones's house. Jones made them wait outside while he ran in to get them food for their trip, and to eat a little bit himself. When Jones walked into his home, his former slave Henry sat at the dinner table. Henry had been out fishing, and Jones made sure he'd left the fishing boat in the usual spot. Jones's family was also home. They asked no questions when he hurried inside and wolfed down some food and then left again.

And they had no idea the assassin of President Lincoln sat on a horse under some pear trees about 50 yards away. Jones delivered the food to Booth and Harold. They inhaled it. Then they started moving again. They'd come two and a half miles, but they still had one more mile to go to get to the river. When they were 300 yards from the water, they were forced to abandon the horse.

Booth would have to move on foot from here. Harold and Jones helped him struggle down to the riverbank. They found the boat at the edge of the water. Harold and Jones helped Booth climb into the small craft. They put the weapons and Booth's crutches inside. Then Jones gave them a candle and a compass. Booth sat in the stern. He would use the candle and the compass to guide them,

and he would steer with his single oar. Harold sat in the bow, and he would do the hard work by rowing with two oars. Booth tried to give Jones a fistful of money for his kindness over the last five days, but Jones only accepted $18 as payment for the boat. Jones cautioned Booth to hide the flame of the candle with an oilcloth coat so it wouldn't be spotted on the dark river. Then he told them about their next contact. Her name was Mrs. Cuisenberry, and she lived at the mouth of a creek where they should land in Virginia.

With that, Thomas Jones pushed the boat away from shore and never saw Booth and Harold again. Harold pulled hard on the oars and drove the boat into the Potomac River. In just a few seconds, they lost sight of Thomas Jones standing on the riverbank. They must have been exhilarated. They'd wanted to make this crossing five nights ago, but they'd been delayed at Dr. Mud's house because of Booth's leg. Then they got lost after they left Mud's house. Then they were forced to sit in the pine thicket because the delays had allowed the manhunter's to catch up.

But now, they had to cross two miles of water, and they would be in the Confederate state of Virginia. It wouldn't mean they were home free, but Booth would feel a lot better. The Confederate capital at Richmond, Virginia had fallen three weeks earlier, and the state was essentially in union hands, but reaching it was still a vital step toward the ultimate goal of reaching the deep south, where Booth was sure he'd find sanctuary. And now Booth became anxious. Union gunboats patrolled the river. He and David Herald were out here on their own, and neither were experienced Bucon.

boatmen. Booth struggled to read the compass. They were supposed to go straight west across the river, but it looked like they were heading northwest. If they stayed on this course, they would miss the little chunk of Virginia they were aiming for and end up back in Maryland. Booth tried to guide them in the right direction, and Harold pulled the oars with all his might, but they failed. The wind and the waves pushed them north and they ran aground in Maryland. They were exhausted. dejected, and stranded. They were in a creek near a farm known as Indian Town. They were obviously not where they wanted to be,

but at least Harold knew where they were. He recognized the area, and he knew some people who lived nearby. They traveled to Indian Town Farm and met the owner, John Hughes. Hughes and Harold were friends, and Hughes allowed the fugitive to stay on his property. But once again, Booth and Harold had to spend the daylight hours waiting. It was April 21st, seven days after the assassination, and they were still only 30 miles from Washington. Booth pulled out his date book and chronicled his recent experiences in a journal

entry. It was the most lofty entry of his 12 days on the run. Here's much of what he wrote. After being hunted like a dog through swamps, woods, and last night being chased by gunboats till I was forced to return wet, cold, and starving, with every man's hand against me, I am here in despair. And for why? For doing what Brutus was honored for, for what made Tell a hero. And yet I, for striking down a greater tyrant than they ever knew, am looked upon as a common cutthroat. My action was purer than either of theirs. One hoped to be great himself. The other had not only his countries, but his own wrongs to avenge. I hoped for no gain.

I knew no private wrong. I struck from my country and that alone. A country groaned beneath this tyranny and prayed for this end. Yet now behold the cold hand they extend to me. God cannot pardon me if I have done wrong. Yet I cannot see any wrong except in serving a degenerate people. The little, the very last. little I left behind to clear my name, the government will not allow to be printed. So ends all.

For my country, I have given up all that makes life sweet and holy, brought misery upon my family, and am sure there is no pardon in the heaven for me since man condemns me so. God try and forgive me, and bless my mother. Tonight I will once more try the river with the intent to cross, though I have had a greater desire in almost a mind to return to Washington and in a measure clear my name, which I feel I can do. I do not repent the blow I struck. I may before God, but not to man. I think I have done well, though I am abandoned with the curse of Cain upon me.

Tonight I try to escape these bloodhounds once more. Who, who can read his fate? God's will be done. I have too great a soul to die like a criminal. Oh, may he, may he spare me that, and let me die bravely. Booth would not die bravely. He didn't know it yet, but he was just five days away from his death. And despite the claims in his journal that he would cross that night,

the night of the 21st, he didn't. For reasons lost to history, he and Harold stayed in Indian town for two days. When they attempted their second crossing of the Potomac River on the night of the 22nd, they had just three more days of freedom remaining. Next time on Infamous America, Booth and Herald finally make it to Virginia. They slowly worked their way south to the site of Booth's last stand, the Garrett Farm. As Booth and Harold make slow progress, Edwin Stanton's forces pick up their pace. They receive tips that lead them almost to the doorstep of the fugitives.

The manhunt is nearly done. That's next week on Infamous America. Research for this season was provided by Joey McAdams. Editing and sound design by Dave Harrison. I'm your writer and host, Chris Wimmer. If you enjoyed the show, please leave us a rating and a review on Apple Podcasts or wherever you're listening.

Please visit our website, blackbarrelmedia.com, for more details and join us on social media. We're Black Barrel Media on Facebook and Instagram and B-Barrel Media on Twitter. Thanks again. We'll see you next week.