The Hour of Peril: The Secret Plot to Murder Lincoln Before the Civil War by Daniel Stashower Page A
Authors: Daniel Stashower
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Chicago “without a dollar” and could not continue his journey without financial help. Both Jones and Pinkerton pledged to do what they could. “There is a Democratic meeting in the city today,” Pinkerton said. “I’ll go down and make them give me enough money to send you and these slaves to Canada.”
Pinkerton recalled that he left the house in a “determined frame of mind,” but he soon realized that his plan had a serious flaw. The Democratic meeting he had mentioned was, in fact, a session of the Chicago Judiciary Convention. Although many of the participants would undoubtedly be sympathetic to the plight of Brown’s runaways, few of them would want to pledge support openly in a legal forum. Pinkerton made some concession to the delicacy of the situation by declining to make the request himself. “I was too well known as being an anti-slavery man,” he said, “and I thought my absence from the meeting would be the best thing.” Instead, he dispatched a pair of friends to circulate what he called a “subscription list” among the delegates. When they returned without a single donation, however, Pinkerton took the matter into his own hands. “I decided that I must have the money,” he said. “I was willing to pay something myself but I could not pay the whole.”
Pinkerton’s new tactic was nothing if not direct. Bursting into the meeting hall, he jumped to the stage and motioned for silence. “Gentlemen,” he began as a stunned silence fell over the room, “I have one thing to do and I intend to do it in a hurry. John Brown is in this city at the present time with a number of men, women and children. I require aid, and substantial aid I must have. I am ready and willing to leave this meeting if I get this money; if not, I have to say this. I will bring John Brown to this meeting and if any United States Marshal dare lay a hand on him he must take the consequence. I am determined to do this or have the money.” Folding his arms, Pinkerton stepped back and waited.
For several moments, the audience of “astonished jurists” simply stared at Pinkerton in uncomfortable silence. Then, with a conspicuous clearing of the throat, a young politician rose and made his way forward, holding out a fifty-dollar bill. With a curt nod of thanks, Pinkerton took off his hat and held it out. One by one, the others formed a line and filled the hat with bills. Within minutes, Pinkerton had collected nearly six hundred dollars. When the last man had passed, Pinkerton inclined his head. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said. Placing the hat back on his head, he left the hall without another word.
Later that afternoon, Pinkerton and his elder son, William, collected John Brown and his fugitives from the various homes where they had been lodged the night before and prepared to send them on their way. Pinkerton made arrangements with railroad superintendent C. G. Hammond—“a friend to me and also to the colored people”—to have a special passenger car readied at the Chicago depot. As a grateful John Brown took his leave, he turned and offered a warm farewell, along with a pregnant word of warning: “Friends, lay in your tobacco, cotton and sugar because I intend to raise the prices.” When the abolitionist was safely aboard the train, Pinkerton laid a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Look well upon that man,” he said. “He is greater than Napoleon and just as great as George Washington.”
* * *
THIS OPINION REGARDING JOHN BROWN would be sorely tested in the months to come. Though Pinkerton had received strong support from Hammond and other powerful railroad men, not all of his colleagues were so sympathetic to the abolitionist cause. One of Pinkerton’s closest friends during these years was the vice president and chief engineer of the Illinois Central, a young West Point graduate named George Brinton McClellan. Pinkerton and McClellan were an unlikely pair. In contrast to the rough-hewn
Pinkerton recalled that he left the house in a “determined frame of mind,” but he soon realized that his plan had a serious flaw. The Democratic meeting he had mentioned was, in fact, a session of the Chicago Judiciary Convention. Although many of the participants would undoubtedly be sympathetic to the plight of Brown’s runaways, few of them would want to pledge support openly in a legal forum. Pinkerton made some concession to the delicacy of the situation by declining to make the request himself. “I was too well known as being an anti-slavery man,” he said, “and I thought my absence from the meeting would be the best thing.” Instead, he dispatched a pair of friends to circulate what he called a “subscription list” among the delegates. When they returned without a single donation, however, Pinkerton took the matter into his own hands. “I decided that I must have the money,” he said. “I was willing to pay something myself but I could not pay the whole.”
Pinkerton’s new tactic was nothing if not direct. Bursting into the meeting hall, he jumped to the stage and motioned for silence. “Gentlemen,” he began as a stunned silence fell over the room, “I have one thing to do and I intend to do it in a hurry. John Brown is in this city at the present time with a number of men, women and children. I require aid, and substantial aid I must have. I am ready and willing to leave this meeting if I get this money; if not, I have to say this. I will bring John Brown to this meeting and if any United States Marshal dare lay a hand on him he must take the consequence. I am determined to do this or have the money.” Folding his arms, Pinkerton stepped back and waited.
For several moments, the audience of “astonished jurists” simply stared at Pinkerton in uncomfortable silence. Then, with a conspicuous clearing of the throat, a young politician rose and made his way forward, holding out a fifty-dollar bill. With a curt nod of thanks, Pinkerton took off his hat and held it out. One by one, the others formed a line and filled the hat with bills. Within minutes, Pinkerton had collected nearly six hundred dollars. When the last man had passed, Pinkerton inclined his head. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said. Placing the hat back on his head, he left the hall without another word.
Later that afternoon, Pinkerton and his elder son, William, collected John Brown and his fugitives from the various homes where they had been lodged the night before and prepared to send them on their way. Pinkerton made arrangements with railroad superintendent C. G. Hammond—“a friend to me and also to the colored people”—to have a special passenger car readied at the Chicago depot. As a grateful John Brown took his leave, he turned and offered a warm farewell, along with a pregnant word of warning: “Friends, lay in your tobacco, cotton and sugar because I intend to raise the prices.” When the abolitionist was safely aboard the train, Pinkerton laid a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Look well upon that man,” he said. “He is greater than Napoleon and just as great as George Washington.”
* * *
THIS OPINION REGARDING JOHN BROWN would be sorely tested in the months to come. Though Pinkerton had received strong support from Hammond and other powerful railroad men, not all of his colleagues were so sympathetic to the abolitionist cause. One of Pinkerton’s closest friends during these years was the vice president and chief engineer of the Illinois Central, a young West Point graduate named George Brinton McClellan. Pinkerton and McClellan were an unlikely pair. In contrast to the rough-hewn
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