The Steamship Globe Explodes on the Chicago River on November 8, 1861.

TERRIBLE CALAMITY. So screamed the headline of the Chicago Tribune on November 9, 1861. 

The Globe was one of the oldest of our lake craft in commission. She came from the stocks as a side-wheel steamboat in 1848. Subsequently, she was altered to a propeller. Her present engines were comparatively new, having taken the place of the old ones, which were condemned about four years prior. She was registered as a B-2 vessel, with a valuation of $17,000 ($538,600 today). She was insured for $5,000, but as marine policies do not cover loss or damage by an explosion, the loss fell entirely upon her owner, Mr. William O. Brown, of Buffalo, N.Y. She was commanded by Captain Amos Pratt, one of the oldest and best of lake navigators.

1860s Chicago River, looking west toward Wells Street from Clark Street.

The steamship Globe, tied up at a Wells Street dock on the Northside of the main branch of the Chicago River that the disaster claimed the lives of 15 people. Captain Pratt had left the boat at about 7:30 am, about two hours before the explosion. His belief was that after the boat docked, water was drawn down in one of the boilers while the other boiler was kept at low pressure for moving the boat and hoisting freight.

On the morning of Thursday, November 8, about nine o'clock, the people in the vicinity of Clark and Wells streets were startled by a tremendous explosion upon the Northside of the river, and at the same instant, the air was filled with a shower of beams, iron, and splinters of every description. Captain Pratt, was found unconscious, lying at Hale's dock along with the remains of the propeller from the Globe.

Terrible Explosion of the Steamer Globe, at Hall's Dock, Chicago, Thursday, November 8, 1961. Sketch by H. Petrie.

The tremendous sound of the explosion reverberated for miles. People rushed to the docks to witness the spectacle. The ship, torn apart for two-thirds of her length, sank almost immediately with about 20 feet of her upper works still visible. It was immediately clear that the death toll would be large.

The Globe had only arrived about five hours earlier that morning from Buffalo, N.Y. with a cargo of apples and other merchandise. She had also brought some passengers, all of whom had left the vessel. The engineers and firemen were in the engine room inspecting a cylinder head. The steam had been blown off from one of the boilers and the fire put out, the other boiler had but little steam in it. While they were thus occupied, the boiler exploded with terrific force, tearing the propeller into atoms, and covering the adjacent parts with the wreck of the ill-fated vessel. The crew numbered twenty-five in all and it is feared that most of them have perished. The force of the shock was terrible. The long block of buildings adjoining the Northside of the river was shaken as if by an earthquake. The windows were all broken and some ceilings were destroyed.

The wreck of the steamer as it appeared after the explosion. Carrying away the dead bodies. Sketch by T. Williams.

Some idea may be formed of the wonderful power concealed in a drop of water from some of the particular effects of the explosion. The iron of the boilers was ripped asunder (into pieces) as if it had only been made of paper. The boilers were literally torn to shreds, and one of them, less torn than the others, was twisted and collapsed like an old felt hat that had been consistently sat upon.

Among the dead were several individuals who were as much a victim of fate as of the explosion of the steamer. 

James R. Hobby, 25-years-old, was assisting a clerk who had gone on board to check on a shipment for his employer. The clerk had returned to the office moments earlier, leaving James to finish the work. 

Mary Golding, 15-years-old, was on the dock with her ten-year-old sister, picking up apples that had fallen from broken barrels, part of the ship’s cargo. Mary died. Her sister, who was less than ten feet away, was uninjured and ran to her parent's home at Franklin and Kinzie, screaming that “somebody had fired a cannon at Mary and killed her.”  

Patrick Donahoe was killed by a large oak beam as he stood in front of a saloon on Wells Street. A father and two daughters who had booked passage on the ship and left it after it docked, returned to pick up their luggage just before the disaster. The father and one of his daughters died. The other daughter survived.

A piece of timber, weighing some two hundred and fifty pounds, was thrown across the river and into the office of Stewart, Youle & Co., in the Board of Trade Building. It entered via the window and landed in the middle of the room. Mr. Stewart had left the room scarcely a minute before the intrusion of the unwelcome projectile.

The rear of the Board of Trade Building shows the hole made by a piece of timber weighing 250 pounds that was blown across the river.

One of the fenders of the boat, weighing two hundred pounds, was blown through the air and hurled into the rear of Larrabee & North's hardware store, over a block from the dock, and cutting out a circular piece, a foot in diameter, from the center of a thick iron shutter.

The hole in an iron shutter in the rear of Larrabee & North's hardware store.

The explosion of the steamer was of such force that huge pieces of the vessel were hurled in all directions, prompting incredible stories of near-misses. 

Nelson Luddington was driving his buggy along Wells Street when a stick of firewood from the Globe completely destroyed the buggy.  A 200-pound piece of chain was hurled through the window of a produce dealer, slamming into a heavy iron safe, which prevented it from traveling through the wall into the adjoining office where several people were at work.

A 200-pound deck beam rocketed through the fourth-floor window of a business on Lake Street, near Wells. A large piece of chain, about five feet long, fell through the roof and ceiling of the Merchants’ Police Station on Wells Street and passed between two men as they lay sleeping after doing night service.

Captain Pratt surmised that the explosion was caused by “carelessness on the part of someone,” most probably by failure to check the system adequately before introducing cold river water into a red-hot boiler that had no water in it. The boilers had passed an inspection by United States officials the previous May in Buffalo, N.Y.

The Globe lay where it sank until April of 1862 as the parties involved in its removal fought over who would pay for the operation. In February of that year, the Chicago City Attorney ruled that the city was most certainly not responsible for cleaning up the wreckage. By March the boat’s owners had hired contractor Martin Quigley to clean up the wreckage, paying him $1,500 and any material that he could salvage. In that process, another crewmember’s body, believed to be the fireman’s, was found on March 18, 1862.

In a short two-sentence blurb on April 3 the Tribune reported that three tugboats were towing the hulk toward Miller & Hook’s dry dock on the north branch of the river. “It is good riddance to our river,” the paper concluded.

The accident, as horrible as it was, could have been a lot worse. “... it was a hair's breadth escape for hundreds,” The Tribune observed, “when with a violence an explosion of gunpowder could scarcely parallel, a boiler is thus blown up in the very heart of a busy city, and sends its fearful missiles whirling hundreds of feet through the air to land at random in our streets. Reviewing the disaster, it's almost miraculous, to see how few lives were lost, and amid all the sorrow, this is an abundant cause for congratulation.” 

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

Naperville, Illinois, Fire Department; History of the Early Years.

Joseph Naper is credited with founding the Naperville settlement along the DuPage River in 1831. The Settlement became a stagecoach stop on the road from Chicago to Galena around 1835. Naper drew the first plat in 1842. The promise of good land drew people from the east to the new frontier. Named for Joseph Naper, Naperville is the oldest municipality in DuPage County, Illinois, incorporated as a village in 1857 and in 1890 as a city. Today, Naperville sits in DuPage and Will Counties.

Records between 1831 and 1857 are few. It cannot be determined how many fires occurred. At the first village council meeting on May 4, 1857, ordinances were enacted, empowering the village to purchase fire equipment, establish water supplies from fire companies and appoint a fire marshal. Unfortunately, these ordinances, it seems, were not acted upon, except it appears tough not stated explicitly a fire marshal was appointed. If indeed the position was filled, the job would have been to supervise the bucket brigade.

On July 6, 1874, a fire broke out at the New York Hotel. Despite the bucket brigades, the fire continued to gain headway. Village officials telegraphed the City of Aurora, who sent a fire engine by way of a railroad flatcar. After extinguishing the fire, Aurora returns to their city. Shortly thereafter, a separate fire broke out at “Egerman’s Barn.” The village council debated if they should request Aurora to return. It seems the bucket brigade handled the fire, and Aurora remained in quarters. The fact that there were two serious fires in one day raised the question of arson, but no charges were pursued.

In August of 1874, the village board met on the subject. After two major fires occurred in the downtown area, some members questioned if a fire department was needed. The faction for a Fire Department won. The Naperville Fire Department was founded and chartered by the City of Naperville and the State of Illinois that year. A committee was appointed to purchase fire equipment. 

Fire companies began to form, although the dates are uncertain. The Joe Naper Fire Company № 1 existed by mid-September 1874. Hose Company № 1 was probably in service at the same time.

On November 28, 1874, the purchasing committee reported that they acquired an engine, hose cart, brooms, speaking trumpets, and 700 feet of 2½ inch hose. The cost was $1752.50 ($42,000 today) for everything. The committee was thanked and dissolved. The date that the equipment arrived is not recorded, but it appears it was on hand by November 28th.

The engine was a Lysander Button & Sons Lysander Button & Sons hand side stroke water pump fire engine № 3 with the serial number 628. 

PHOTO: A Lysander Button & Sons hand side stroke water pump fire engine, 1872.
Early fire pumpers were a great improvement over the bucket brigade system of fighting fires. Now instead of throwing water onto a fire from small buckets, hand pumper engines were utilized, pulled to the scene by teams of firefighters. The men would line up along the sides of the pumper and raise and lower the long “brakes” you see running parallel along this engine. The motion would operate the pump, which in turn fed water through a hose. The stream of water thrown by this engine can reach up to 200 feet.

It is preserved at the Naper Settlement firehouse in downtown Naperville. This apparatus was the sole fire protection for the village until 1907. The first working fire for the engine may have been December 8, 1874, for a fire Stenger’s Barn. Unfortunately, there is no specific mention of it in the records.

Another fire occurred on December 13, 1874, behind Steven's Drug Store. There was no time for the reported fire, but it took most of the night to extinguish.

On December 18, 1874, a fire broke out near the corner of Main and Jefferson. When it was extinguished, the Post Express offices and several other buildings were damaged or destroyed. One report stated that the Joe Naper Fire Company could not immediately operate due to mechanical problems.

When the village council met on December 19th, an ordinance was proposed that all saloons close upon a fire alarm and remain closed until the emergency has passed. The ordinance was amended and passed at the next meeting.

On January 2, 1875, the council passed another ordinance that finally established and defined the fire department. It is not clear what changes were made or what warranted the action.

On September 29, 1875, the Rescue Hook and Ladder Company was established. This brought the department to three companies alongside the Joe Naper Fire Company and Hose Company № 1.

Naperville Hose Company Fireman Badge, Year Unknown.

The position of Fire Marshall was created by the 1857 ordinance and it added the position of Assistant Fire Marshal. They were, respectively, Willard Scott Jr. and B.B. Boecker. (NOTE: A descendant of Mr. Boecher served as Chief of the Lisle-Woodridge Fire Department for many years.)

Each company was self-governing. Seemingly the fire marshal's authority was confined to the fire ground. Rules and bylaws were established. Fines would be levied on members who failed to attend drills. Uniforms were only to be worn for company functions. Members could be fined or expelled for attending the parades while intoxicated. Typical companies planned and held social events such as dances to raise funds in addition to the income from membership dues. Revenues were used to purchase uniforms and equipment. 

At first, there were no firehouses. Equipment was stored in barns around the village. In 1875 the fire companies made a proposal. Naperville was the DuPage County seat up to 1865. At that time, all records and county offices moved to Wheaton. The old courthouse was virtually abandoned. The fire companies suggested that the building be renovated and turned into a firehouse. Permission was granted and, with a combination of money raised by the fire companies and village funds, the restoration took place. The firehouse was located near Benton Avenue and Court Place on the village square.

Over the next few years, some changes took place. The Joe Naper Fire Company disbanded and reformed at least twice for unknown reasons.

No major fires were recorded from 1875 to 1887. The journals tell of drills, inspections, etc.

The 1875 ordinance gave the authority to the Fire Marshal to run monthly drills. The natures of the drills are not recorded, but I assume they involved water supply pumping and stretching hose. In addition to the drills, there was the annual inspection conducted by the village council.

Up until 1883, the only sources of water were wells and the Du Page River. During the summer, the river was too shallow to allow for drafting. In that year, an ordinance was passed to create a system of cisterns (a tank for storing water) for firefighting. The system was not installed until 1887.

Also, in 1887, the fire department purchased a Silsby steam fire engine for $2,800.00 ($80,500 today). The Enterprise Engine Company was formed to operate the new engine. Delivery of the new engine took place in September of 1887, with Mr. Silsby performing the test himself. It was a festive event. People picnicked and watched the spectacle.

In 1888 the council determined that the old courthouse was no longer suitable as a firehouse. A parcel was purchased known as Sieber property was purchased. It was located on the Southside of Jefferson Avenue between Main and Webster Streets. The house opened in November of 1888 and later took an address of 126 West Jefferson.

In 1890 Napervilleincorporated as a City. The City Council first met on August 15, 1890, and codified the village ordinances into city ordinances. Most were merely reiterations. An entire chapter was devoted to the fire department. A significant change was made to the office of the Fire Marshall. There were now two assistants. All three offices were mayoral appointments for the term of one year.  They were given complete control over the fire companies and all persons at the scene of fires.

The new ordinances also created the positions of chief engineer and two assistants. They were assigned to the Enterprise Engine Company. The other members of the company had no say in the appointment. Up to this time, existing members voted to admit all new recruits. The engineers and the fire marshals were part-time employees of the city and were salaried.  

The ordinance also fixed the number of members that each company could have on the roster:

• Enterprise 35 (including the engineers)
• Joe Naper 80
• Hose Company 135
• Rescue Hook and Ladder 20.

It appears, though, that these numbers were not often reached.

By 1896 Naperville listed four hose carts on its inventory. It is unclear when they were purchased, although one was purchased with the Silsby steam fire engine.

From 1894 to 1897, only twelve fire responses are listed in the records of the Hose Company. All seem to be minor incidents. The annual inspection and monthly drills continued as they had before.

The Silsby steam fire engine proved to be a problem. Too heavy to be pulled by hand, it, of course, required horses. The city did not consider it cost-effective to purchase their own horses. Upon receiving an alarm, animals had to be pressed into service from residences or local livery stables. Consequently, the hand-drawn Joe Naper Engine Company often extinguished the fire before the steamer arrived and got up a head of steam.

In 1903 a referendum passed for the construction of a water and sewer system. It was completed in 1905, and fire hydrants were installed in 1906. It was believed that the new system would provide suitable pressure for plug lines. Hose carts were quartered around town for this purpose. Also, in 1905, a standard addressing system was introduced.

After the new water system became, operational changes started to occur in the department. The Silsby steam fire engine was sold. Pay for the chief engineer was decreased. The pay for drill and fire responses to the members changed.

The city was divided into four districts with a hose cart stationed in each one. Rescue Hook and Ladder ran out of the centrally located existing firehouse on Jefferson. Another change occurred about the same time. The Chief Fire Marshals had to be reappointed every year. Now that no longer happened. Marshals now served until they resigned or until they were removed.

At 03:00 on August 24, 1911, a phone call was received reporting fire through the roof at Saints Peter & Paul Catholic Church's Carolus Hall School. The alarm was delayed since no procedure was established for the operator to alert the fire department. The building was damaged extensively and was unusable for a prolonged period of time.

Ruins of Carolus Hall (Saints Peter & Paul Parish's elementary school) after the fire on 8-24-1911.  After rebuilding and the dedication in 1912, Wenker Hall was renamed in memory of the previous Pastor. There were 250 students enrolled in 8 grades at that time.

1912 marked a milestone in the Naperville Fire Department's history. Until then, the only records available were newspaper stories, letters, and a single fire department log page of Hose Company № 1. The department logs are available, beginning in 1912.

The logs are not very detailed. What can be discerned is that the most numerous fires were grass fires caused by cinders from the Burlington locomotives. Chimney fires occurred on average of about fifteen calls per year.

In 1916 the city replaced Hose Company № 1 cart with an International Model H Chemical engine.  It ran out of the Central Fire Station on Jefferson.  It was a three-quarter-ton truck holding two thirty-gallon bicarbonate tanks and two acid chambers. The unit responded to all alarms city-wide, along with the hose carts for the respective district.

In 1916 Naperville planned a “Homecoming “celebration to show off the town’s progress over the years. A souvenir book was printed containing a description of the fire department.

Companies № 1 and № 5 ran from the fire station. Company № 1 was the International Model H, and Company № 5 was a Hook and Ladder. Ten men were authorized to each. Companies № 2 and № 3 had hose carts and covered the West Side and East Side, respectively, with four men each. Company № 4 had the North Side with a roster of seven men. The Joe Naper Engine Company was not mentioned. 

On May 11, 1918, the department had its first automatic alarm malfunction. A short caused the alarm to go off at the Central Station. 

On October 25, 1918, the Naperville Fire Department responded to a serious fire at Edward Sanitarium, now Edward Hospital. The log house burned down. The cause was listed as a soup cooker.

The call volume for the Naperville Fire Department was around thirteen a year. 1920 saw a jump to 20 calls, some were serious incidents. Another fire at Edward Sanitarium caused $25,000 ($341,000 today) in damage. March 1st saw a fire on the Hunt Estate at what was described as a shoe factory. Damage was listed at $10,000 ($136,500 today). March 14th, a fire occurred at the Goodwin residence. After companies left the scene, the fire rekindled. The house was a total loss. Several chimney fires were reported during the winter, but no more major incidents.

On November 13, 1920, the Naperville Fire Department responded to a fire at the Schwartz Lumber Company along the railroad tracks. All available resources were used, hose carts, the chemical engine, hook and ladder, and the Joe Naper Engine Company. Winds fanned the flames, creating an ember and exposure problem. Aurora was called for additional aid. The fire resulted in $11,000 ($150,000 today) in damage. The cause was never determined.

At four o’clock in the morning on June 4, 1922, Bertha Keller reported a fire at Saints Peter and Paul Church. The building was heavily involved upon arrival. The attack was defensive and mainly to protect exposures. People at the scene gasped when the steeple collapsed.

Steeple falling over as fire completely destroys
Sts. Peter & Paul Catholic Church on June 4, 1922.

On July 16th, 1922, Boeker’s Coal and Grain suffered a $30,000 ($487,500 today) loss when fire consumed a grain bin. (The Boeker's were a prominent family in Naperville. One of their descendants, Paul Boecker, served as a Naperville Firefighter and became the Chief of Lisle Woodridge Fire Protection District.) On October 1st and November 11th, fires occurred at the Kroeler Furniture Factory nearby. The building was equipped with a water reservoir and pump preventing serious damage. On June 15, 1923, Grace Evangelical Church burned, but a total loss was averted. On July 29th the Goodwin’s barn burned. October 24, there was a fire at the North Central boiler building. This was the only one of the several fires whose cause was determined to be a malfunctioning oil heater.

With such an outbreak, arson was suspected but never proved. Points of origin were similar and other coincidences, but no further action could be taken without modern investigation techniques. Regardless of the cause, there was increasing concern about the level of fire protection in the city. The entire force consisted of one hand pump, five hose carts, and a motorized chemical engine.

On July 24, 1924, the council announced bids for a motorized fire truck. In February 1925, the contract was given to Ahrens Fox to buy a 1000 GPM pumper for $13,000 ($207,500 today). 1925 is considered the beginning of the modern age for the Naperville Fire Department.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

Account of Captain Edwin Eliaphron Bedee, in the Union army who was part of the historic tragedy witnessed President Lincoln get shot at Ford's Theatre.

Captain Edwin Bedee (1837-1908)

Captain Bedee was seated in the second row on the left side of the theatre in the back of the orchestra. A commanding view could be had of President Abraham Lincoln watching the play. The sound of a shot rang out above the actor's voice on stage. Captain Edwin Bedee stared as a man vaulted from the President's box onto the stage.

Little did  Edwin Bedee, 12th Regiment, New Hampshire Volunteers, know when he enlisted, August 18, 1862, in Meredith, New Hampshire, that he would witness the tragic shooting of one of American's greatest Presidents, Abraham Lincoln, on the fateful day of April 14, 1865.

When Captain Bedee saw the man drop onto the stage from the President's box, his first reaction was to pursue the fleeing assassin. Instead, Bedee, like the rest, listened as Booth boldly uttered the incredible words, "Revenge for the South!"

Sensing a catastrophe, Captain Bedee sprang from his chair, climbed over some rows, bolted past the orchestra and footlights, and across the stage in the direction Booth had disappeared.

A scream shattered the mounting noise. "They've got him!" Bedee presumed the assassin was caught. Another scream. It was Mrs. Lincoln.

"My husband is shot!" A doctor was called for. Captain Bedee reeled around and bounded across the stage towards the box. As he was scaling the box, a man appeared and stated he was a physician. Captain Bedee stepped aside, pushed the doctor up to the railing, and followed directly behind. Had the Captain not given assistance to the surgeon, he would have been the first to reach Lincoln. The only entrance to the box was believed locked by Booth when he slipped in to do his foul act, which apparently kept anyone from hastily entering from the outside passageway.

President Lincoln lay reclined in his chair, his head tilted back as though he were asleep. The doctor searched for the wound seeking some evidence of blood or torn clothing, the surgeon started to remove Lincoln's coat and unbutton his vest. Meanwhile, Captain Bedee was holding the president's head. Suddenly, he felt a warm wetness trickling into his hand. "Here is the wound, doctor," Captain Bedee said as one of his fingers slid into the hole in the back of Lincoln's head where the ball had only moments before forced an entry.

During the removal of some of the president's clothing, papers fell from his pocket. Mrs. Lincoln, apparently rational in spite of the shock of the calamity handed the packet to Captain Bedee remarking, "You are an officer, and won't you take charge of these papers?" Captain Bedee took the papers while she removed others from her husband's inner pocket and placed them in Dedee's hand.

By now others had gained entrance to the box through the door. One was a surgeon. Together the two doctors worked over the President and then Lincoln was removed to the house across the street from the theater, Bedee helped carry the dying man. He waited at the house where Secretary of War Stanton was soon to arrive. Upon the Secretary's arrival, Captain Bedee delivered the papers to him writing his own name and regiment upon the wrapper which Stanton placed around the documents. Secretary Stanton gave the Captain two assignments: first to go to the War Department with a message, and secondly, to contact the officer in command at Chain Bridge on matters dealing with the escaping assassin.

When the missions were completed Captain Bedee returned to Stanton. The Secretary thanked him for his diligence in handling the duties assigned to him and also for caring for the President's papers. He was then told to return to his post of duty.

The following day Captain Bedee was with his regiment. That evening an officer brought an order for the Captain's arrest. Apparent misunderstanding of the connections between Bedee, Lincoln's papers, and the assassination had made him a suspect within the War Department. Captain Bedee was so distraught that he telegraphed the department explaining the situation.

For two days Captain Bedee was kept under arrest. Finally, his release came, with an explanation of the confusion. Immediately the Captain wrote Secretary Stanton a personal letter stating that his honorable record during the war years would now have a very serious blemish if the details were not clarified. The Secretary wrote back explaining the error caused by the lower echelon in his department and gave proper acknowledgment to Captain Bedee for the commendable acts performed by him in the handling of Lincoln's papers. Thus the good captain was completely exonerated from any suspicious association with the murder of President Lincoln.

How did Captain Bedee happen upon this sorrowful moment of American history?

Edwin Bedee was born in Sandwich, New Hampshire, and grew up in the area. he was a printer by trade prior to the war. At 24 he enlisted and spent three months in a New York regiment but hastily returned to Meredith upon his release to join the 12th Volunteers, wanting to be with fellow New Hampshire men.

Mustered in as a sergeant major of the regiment, Bedee was soon promoted to the rank of first lieutenant. At the battle of Chancellorsville, he was wounded and yet assumed command of his regiment when those higher in command were either killed or unable to lead.

At Chancellorsville, Bedee's ability to make decisions under the pressure of battle was recognized, and he was promoted to captain. A year later, at Cold Harbor, Virginia, Captain Bedee was severely wounded. Recovering from his wounds, Bedee went back to action. This time he was captured at Bermuda Front, Virginia. He was paroled in February of 1865. Shortly thereafter, Captain Bedee was selected to serve on the staff of General Potter and went to Washinton on special duty. On Friday evening, April 14, 1865, be decided to attend Ford's Theatre.

The play was "Our American Cousin." It was being performed for the last time. Captain Bedee was fortunate to obtain a seat for the house was sold out. In fact, his seat gave him a full view of the President's box and its occupants. Because the audience was laughing at the antics on stage at the time, few heard the shot that felled the President.

A month after this tragic and involved affair, Captain Bedee was promoted to the rank of Major. Soon he was mustered out of the army along with his regiment.

When the war was over, Major Bedee caught the speculating craze and was lured to the South African diamond fields. But within a few years, he sold out, returning to Boston, and established himself as a successful diamond trader.

During his later years, Major Bedee, now a man of moderate wealth gave generously to the churches and other institutions in the town of Meredith. He purchased a statue in honor of the 12th Regimental Volunteers and had it placed on the lawn of the Meredith Public Library.

Major Bedee died at the famous Pemigewassett House in Plymouth, New Hampshire, on January 13, 1908, just five days after his 71st birthday. He never married. His body lies in the Meredith cemetery beneath a simple monument.

Little, if any, recognition has even been given Major Bedee in many accounts written on Lincoln's death because his role was that of a dutiful officer acting in a crisis. Had the circumstances surrounding Lincoln's personal and official papers not been so minor in the wake of such a tragic event, Major Bedee might have become nationally exposed as a suspect in the plot to assassinate President Lincoln. His innocence brought oblivion.

A typical style of many Civil War statues. Major Edwin E. Bedee's monument to the 12th New Hampshire Volunteer Regiment has a colorful history. The regiment participated in many of the fiercest battles of the Civil War, including Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, and Cold Harbor. Local soldiers reportedly sustained the highest percentage of casualties of any unit in the Union Army. Major Bedee himself was injured twice and later spent several months in a Rebel prison camp. Bedee paid for the statue because he wished "to keep alive the memory of our fallen brave."

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

43 Story Plunge! 3 Killed Inside Marina City Tower Core Construction Site.

Three workmen plunged 43 floors (of the final 64-floors when completed) on September 15, 1961, in the fall of a scaffold-elevator inside the core for the east tower (completed before tower 2) at the new Marina City (aka Marina Towers) apartment project (converted to condominiums in 1977).

Marina City's East Tower core (foreground) where three men fell to their deaths.

The victims, all carpenters, were going up the core shaft with forms for concrete when the scaffold slipped off a hoisting cable hook from which it was suspended. A workman 5-feet above them was the only person who saw the scaffold fall.

FIRST TO DIE ON JOB

The dead were identified as James R. Toner, 24, of 10605 Throop street; Wallace E. Kumpula, 42, of 3231 N. Racine avenue; and Homer Fields, 33, of 8911 Normandy Avenue, Oak Lawn.

They were the first fatalities in the construction of the twin 64-story apartment towers on the north bank of the Chicago River between State and Dearborn streets. The towers are destined to become the first large circular apartment buildings and the world's tallest (at 588-feet each) reinforced concrete structures.

"We were raising forms inside the core and I was about 5-feet above them," said Mike Einsele, 26, of 7206 S. Western avenue. "They were standing on the scaffolding, and I guess a cable slipped. I heard a loud noise and I turned around to look. The bodies bounced crazily, hitting one obstruction after another until they hit bottom. I heard the thuds when they hit and I got sick. I got out of there then."

FOREMAN IN PERIL

A carpenter foreman standing on a ladder above the scaffold had a narrow escape. The ladder, which was supported by cables at the 46th floor and extended below the 43rd-floor level, was jerked from under him when hit by the falling platform.

"I grabbed a beam right there and hung on," said Ed Schreck, 32, of 3024 Jonquin lane, Downers Grove. "I thought I was a goner, for sure, but I wasn't going to let go. An ironworker on a deck at that level worked his way over and got hold of by back and dragged me up to the deck."

ONE WORKER STEPS ASIDE

Will Bridges, 42, of 6039 Vernon Avenue, said he was 10 stories below the scaffold level and had stepped out of the line of the scaffold's fall to get a drink of water. "Everyone inside the core heard them fall," Bridges said. 

Lee Bronson, superintendent for the McHugh Construction Company, general contractor, directed workmen who dug into debris at the bottom of the core to recover the bodies. All were taken to Henrotin Hospital, where they were pronounced dead.

James McHugh, an officer of the company, said the hook holding the scaffold sling had apparently moved or tilted in such a way that the sling slipped off the hook. He said the heavy wooden forms being taken up on the elevator may have jammed along the wall on the way up, causing tension on the hook and possibly bending it enough to permit the cable to slip off.

CALLED A FREAK ACCIDENT

"One of the workers heard a carpenter on the scaffold say, just before the fall, 'It jammed a bit'," McHugh said. He described it as a freak accident that did not involve any structural failure or failure of safety devices.

All workmen were called out of the core and work was halted for the day after the tragedy. One workman on the project, unable to find his brother who also worked there, rushed to the hospital and identified one of the dead men as his missing brother. A few minutes later, the brother was found safe at the building site.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

A Freak Michigan Avenue Bridge Accident Occurred in Chicago on September 20, 1992.

The closure of the Michigan Avenue bridge threw a monkey wrench into downtown traffic on Monday, and there was little relief in sight. Mayor Richard M. Daley, who visited the scene, said he didn't know when the Bridge would reopen.

Meanwhile, crews planned to brace the southeast leaf of the span, one of four comprising the Bridge, to ensure it was stable enough to allow removal of debris.

The southeast leaf sprung open unexpectedly Sunday afternoon, sending a construction crane plummeting to the street and slightly injuring six people. The crane crashed through Michigan Avenue to Lower Michigan. The span rose so violently that it ripped off its structural mounts and twisted down and back into a concrete counterweight pit.

The Raised South Leaf of the Michigan Avenue Bridge in Chicago.

The Bridge has been undergoing a two-year reconstruction in a $31 million ($58 million today) project was scheduled for completion by late November. The southeast leaf was the last segment to be renewed.

Because of the work on the leaf and removal of some heavy steel, it has become unbalanced, officials said. But it was unknown how it became unlocked, permitting it to spring up.

Officials said a section of nearby Wacker Drive from Wabash to Stetson Avenues that was closed after the accident could reopen on Tuesday.

Jesus Lopez escaped serious injury Sunday when a leaf of the Michigan Avenue bridge suddenly sprang up, causing a 70-foot crane to come crashing to the street, damaging his car and others, and injuring six people.

"We were waiting for the bridge to come down so we could go back to work," said Lopez, a bridge maintenance worker. Lopez was parked on the south side of Wacker Drive, sitting in the driver's seat of his Ford Escort, when the southeast leaf of the Bridge unexpectedly rose, and the crane sitting on the Bridge came barreling down. Its cab became wedged in the gap between Wacker Drive and the Bridge. The boom, the crane's moveable post, toppled across Wacker Drive. Two traffic light poles, a crossing gate, and a Chicago police patrol car were damaged.

The huge iron ball and hook attachment to the end of the cable that runs along the boom bounced off the asphalt of Wacker Drive, leaving about a 4-inch crater and smashing through the rear driver's side window of Lopez's car, mangling the door, roof, read quarter panel and back seat.

"I guess I was just lucky," Lopez said, patting a silver cross that hung from his neck and trying to catch his breath. "I'm glad I wasn't sitting in the back seat."

The six who were injured were passengers on a CTA bus. All of them were treated for "bumps and bruises" at area hospitals and released. According to police, Michigan Avenue from Randolph Street to Ohio Street was closed to vehicle traffic.

The accident led to an acknowledgment on the part of the city that none of its inspectors had the experience or training to determine the proper balancing of weight on a bridge under construction.

The contracting team working on the Michigan Avenue bridge during the freak accident bears full responsibility for the costly mishap, experts hired by the city. The investigators exonerated the city bridgetender on the scene when the span's southeast section suddenly flew open. And on December 3, 1992, Chicago Transportation Commissioner J.F. Boyle Jr. asserted the man was "absolutely blameless."

The unnamed employee, a 12-year veteran, insisted to investigators that he did not activate the switch that normally operates a lock on the 1,700-ton bridge section. But even if he hit the switch inadvertently, the contractors were supposed to have disconnected it.

The three unsafe conditions were found by engineers included:

• Two locks-6 1/2-inch thick steel bars located under the rear of the leaf and designed to secure it in the "down" position were bent instead of straight, robbing them of strength.
• Motors that engage and disengage the locks were left fully operational.
• Electrical circuitry connecting lock motors with controls in the bridgetender's tower was fully connected, while safety features were bypassed.

Though the "unsafe construction procedures" set the stage for the accident, it had not been determined what actually triggered the Bridge's release. Possibilities include a structural failure of the rear locks or a mechanical or electrical disengagement of the locks. For the bridgetender to fully disengage the locks, he would have had to press control for eight seconds.

The investigation had gone to the point where they could go no further.

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The Michigan Avenue Bridge was renamed the "Du Sable Bridge" in October of 2010 to honor the "Father of Chicago," Jean Baptiste Pointe de Sable (the "du" of Pointe de Sable is a misnomer. It is an American corruption of "de" as pronounced in French. "Jean Baptiste Point du Sable" first appears long after his death) a French Haitian and the city's first non-native settler.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

Train Runs Into Open Bridge on September 21, 1941; Engine Stops Short of Plunging into the Chicago River.

The Midnight Special, Chicago & Alton train to St. Louis, Missouri, carrying about 100 Pullman passengers, ran into an open bridge on Sunday, September 21, 1941, at 21st Street and the south branch of the Chicago River. The bridge had been opened to permit a freight boat to pass. There were automatic signal lights guarding the approaches to the bridge.

Nearly half of the locomotive went beyond the end of the bridge approach and slanted perilously over the water. Had it gone a few feet farther the engine would have fallen off the track and plunged into the river.

The train had left Union Station at 1 o'clock a.m. At about the same time a boat, tentatively identified as the Canadian freighter, "Lavaldoc," was clearing the railroad bridge, which is owned by the Pennsylvania system. The bridge was still raised as the Alton train approached. The engineer jammed on the brakes, and brought the train to a stop but not until the small front wheels and the first drive wheels had left the rail ends. No one was injured, police said. Four sleeper cars were detached and taken back to Union Station.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

Did John Wilkes Booth Break his Leg Jumping from Lincoln's Box at Ford's Theatre? I Think Not.

History says Presidential Assassin John Wilkes Booth broke his leg as he jumped from the President's Box to the stage, claiming Booth's spur was caught on the red, white, and blue flag that draped the front of the area where the Lincoln party sat. In the 21st century, however, historiography must go toe-to-toe with forensic history. 

Actor/Assassin John Wilkes Booth

Upon a closer examination of primary sources, including letters from both Booth and the doctor who treated him, there is now a greater possibility of creating doubt over when Booth actually broke his leg: was it as he landed on the stage at Ford's Theatre, or later in the evening as he raced away from the scene of the crime?

President Abraham Lincoln's box at Ford's Theater, Washington DC, April 1865. 

President Lincoln, his wife Mary, and two guests, Major Henry Rathbone and his fiancée Clara Harris, were late arriving at the theatre for the start of the play. The Lincoln party made its way to the Presidential Box, on the right-hand side of and elevated from the stage. Unbeknown to any of them, a man by the name of John Wilkes Booth, a well-known actor, was approaching the Presidential Box as well.

In 1968, Ford's Theatre officially reopened as a national historic site and theatre producing live performances.

John Wilkes Booth was born on May 10, 1838, near Bel Air, Maryland. Booth was the second youngest of ten children. His father, Junius Brutus Booth, was a famous actor and eccentric with a reputation for heavy drinking. John and his siblings were raised on a farm, which was worked by the family's slaves. Booth attended the Milton Boarding School for Boys and later St. Timothy's Hall as a child. To those who knew him, it seemed only natural that he would follow in his father's footsteps by being on stage.

John Wilkes Booth took his last drink at the Star Saloon across the street from Ford's Theatre fifteen minutes before he shot Abraham Lincoln.

As Booth neared the Presidential Box, Charles Forbes, a personal assistant to the President, stopped him. Booth calmly showed Forbes something, but what exactly is unknown.

He was allowed to pass, where he entered the Presidential Box as quietly as possible and wedged a piece of wood between the door and the wall. This would prevent anyone from entering.

Booth then crept up behind Abraham Lincoln and raised his pistol to the back of the President's head. He shot at point-blank range and then sprang toward the front of the box. But before Booth could escape, Major Rathbone leaped from his seat and got a momentary grasp on Booth. Booth began slashing at Rathbone with a large knife he had also carried into the Presidential Box. Major Rathbone received a bone-deep wound to his left arm and fell to the floor, bleeding copiously. Booth was then able to break free. He jumped over the railing of the Presidential Box and landed on the main stage.

Read the nearly unknown story of Captain Edwin E. Bedee at the request of Mrs. Lincoln in the President's box.

In his diary, Booth recorded his thoughts and descriptions of that night. 

The Text of John Wilkes Booth's diary is as follows:

"Until today nothing was ever thought of sacrificing to our country's wrongs. For six months we had worked to capture, but our cause being almost lost, something decisive and great must be done. But its failure was owing to others, who did not strike for their country with a heart. I struck boldly, and not as the papers say. I walked with a firm step through a thousand of his friends, was stopped, but pushed on. A colonel was at his side. I shouted Sic semper before I fired. In jumping broke my leg. I passed all his pickets, rode sixty miles that night with the bone of my leg tearing the flesh at every jump. I can never repent it, though we hated to kill. Our country owed all her troubles to him, and God simply made me the instrument of his punishment. The country is not what it was. This forced Union is not what I have loved. I care not what becomes of me. I have no desire to outlive my country. The night before the deed I wrote a long article and left it for one of the editors of the National Intelligencer, in which I fully set forth our reasons for our proceedings. He or the gov'r-

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 why? For doing what Brutus was honored 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 country's but his own, wrongs to avenge. I hoped for no gain. I knew no private wrong. I struck for my country and that alone. A country that groaned beneath this tyranny, and prayed for this end, and yet now behold the cold hands they extend to me. God cannot pardon me if I have done wrong. Yet I cannot see my wrong, except in serving a degenerate people. The little, the very 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. I have only heard of what has been done (except what I did myself), and it fills me with horror. 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 a greater desire and 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 my God, but not to man. I think I have done well. Though I am abandoned, with the curse of Cain upon me, when, if the world knew my heart, that one blow would have made me great, though I did desire no greatness. 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. I bless the entire world. Have never hated or wronged anyone. This last was not a wrong, unless God deems it so, and it's with Him to damn or bless me. As for this brave boy with me, who often prays (yes, before and since) with a true and sincere heart - was it crime in him? If so, why can he pray the same?

I do not wish to shed a drop of blood, but 'I must fight the course.' Tis all that's left to me."

NOTE: While Booth and Lincoln were not personally acquainted, Lincoln had seen Booth at Ford's Theatre in 1863. After the assassination, actor Frank Mordaunt wrote that Lincoln, who apparently harbored no suspicions about Booth, admired the actor and had repeatedly invited him (without success) to visit the White House.

To better illustrate possible discrepancies among versions of events, these should be examined one claim at a time. Once in the Presidential Box—just before Booth pulled the trigger—he wrote, "I shouted "Sic Semper Tyrannis" (Latin phrase meaning "thus always to tyrants") before I fired." Several witnesses claim not to have heard anything before the shot was fired, including those in the box with the President. One eyewitness, James P. Ferguson, was located in the Dress Circle of the theatre. Ferguson claimed that Booth yelled "Sic Semper Tyrannis" after firing the shot and jumping out of the box.

Therefore, according to Ferguson, it was while on stage that Booth yelled out and not while in the Presidential Box. Another eyewitness confirmed Ferguson's account. Samuel Koontz also claims to have seen Booth as he was running across the stage, exclaiming, "Sic Semper Tyrannis."

Booth then claimed, "in jumping broke my leg" when he leaped from the Presidential Box to the stage. But did he? This claim by Booth is also different from what eyewitnesses' saw. The first witness, Lieutenant A.M.S. Crawford of the Volunteer Reserve Corps, was also seated in the Dress Circle part of the theatre. Crawford stated that "I saw him [Booth] as he ran across the stage on the night of the assassination." Actor Harry Hawk, who was on the stage when Booth jumped, observed Booth "as he was rushing towards me with a dagger" in his hand. Other people in the theatre that night also claim to have seen Booth run, not limp, across the stage. These witnesses included William Withers, Sheldon P. McIntyre, John Downing Jr, Dr. Charles Sabin Taft, and Major General B.F. Butler and Samuel Koontz, who was mentioned above. These people said that John Wilkes Booth ran out of the theatre after landing on the stage. None of them described Booth limping or seeming to be in the slightest bit of pain.

First Eyewitness Accounts

The first eyewitness accounts of Lincoln's assassination are considered the most

accurate as they were taken while still fresh in people's memories. I have isolated the

accounts focusing on Booth's reaction after he jumped onto the stage. Thirteen people described Booth as either running or rushing for the exit; some even stated that he sprang to his feet after jumping to the stage. Others said he "came across the stage" or "fled behind the scenes.

NOT ONE PERSON MENTIONED HE LIMPED OR FAVORED HIS LEG AFTER JUMPING.

Lieutenant A.M.S Crawford – “I saw him as he RAN across the stage”

Harry Hawk – “as he was RUSHING towards me with a dagger”

James P. Ferguson – “as he came across the stage”

Basset – “RAN across the stage”

Edwin Bates – “RUSHED RAPIDLY across the stage”

Frederick A. Sawyer – “RAN with lightning speed across the stage”

Jason S. Knox – “RUSHED across the stage”

Harry Hawk (in a letter to his parents) – “RAN towards me”

Helen DuBarry – “as he crossed the stage”

Julie Adeline Shepherd – “RUSHES through the scenery”

Spencer Bronson – “and RAPIDLY left the stage”

Major General Butler – “RAN to the opposite side of the stage”

Dr. Charles Sabin Taft – “Springing quickly to his feet with the suppleness of an                                                         athlete,” “RAPID stage stride”

Samuel Koontz – “RUNNING across the stage”

John Downing Jr. – “striding across the stage”

G.B. Todd – “fled behind the scenes”

Sheldon P. McIntyre – “SPRANG to his feet," “RAN across the stage” 

The account of the man who held Booth's horse outside the back door to Ford's Theatre should also be examined. His name was Joseph "Peanuts" Burroughs, and he was a stagehand at Ford's Theatre. Ned Spangler, another stagehand and one of the men involved in the plan to kill the President, gave him the job of holding Booth's horse. Spangler was later arrested and charged with conspiracy. Initially, Spangler held Booth's horse but was called to do some work during the play. Spangler asked Burroughs to take over holding the horse. "Peanuts," Burroughs stated that, as Booth came racing out the theatre's back door, "he struck me with the butt of his knife and knocked me down. He did this as he mounted his horse, with one foot in the stirrup."

While Burroughs did not mention which leg Booth placed in the stirrup, one has to assume he mounted his horse on the left side, which would require Booth to use his left leg. Had Booth broken his left leg in the theatre, as he claimed, he would not have been able to use his left leg to hoist himself into the saddle. Nowhere in Burroughs's statement is the claim that Booth appeared to be in pain when mounting his horse. Mary Jane Anderson lived behind Ford's Theatre, looked out the window, and had a clear view of the back alley of Ford's Theatre. She said in her statement on May 16, 1865, "I saw Booth come out of the door with something in his hand, glittering. He came out of the theatre so quickly that it seemed like he touched the horse, and they were gone, like a flash of lighting." Both Burroughs and Anderson described someone who appeared to be in no sort of discomfort whatsoever, much less a person with a broken leg.

Author and historian Michael W. Kauffman noted in his book American Brutus: John Wilkes Booth and the Lincoln Conspiracies that "almost all eyewitnesses at Ford's reported seeing Booth crouch or stagger . . .but they noticed no sign of pain, in movement or expression." Sergeant Silas Cobb, who was in charge of guarding the Navy Yard Bridge that led out of Washington toward Virginia, confirmed the previous eyewitness accounts when he said that he did not notice Booth to be uncomfortable when he crossed the bridge. So if Booth did not break his leg at the theatre, when exactly did he?

As Booth made his way across the Navy Yard Bridge, his fellow co-conspirator, David Herold, crossed shortly after Booth without any trouble from Sergeant Cobb. Booth planned to meet up with his fellow conspirators outside Washington and ride south into Virginia, where he thought he would be safe. However, due to unforeseen problems, Booth could not make the distances he so badly wanted.

John Wilkes Booth Escape Route From Lincoln's Assassination at Ford's Theatre.

Once David Herold was over the Navy Yard Bridge, he continued riding south into Maryland, where he met up with John Wilkes Booth. According to Herold, Booth said: "that his horse had fallen or he was thrown off, and his ankle sprained." To back up what Booth told Herold when the two men arrived at John M. Lloyd's house at Surrattsville in Prince George County, Maryland, where they were supposed to pick up supplies left for them, Booth told Lloyd that he broke his leg when his horse fell. Lloyd stated he "seemed to be in great pain." Lloyd also mentioned that Booth did not dismount, unlike Herold, who was the one that knocked on his door to wake him. Before Booth and Herold rode off, Booth said to Lloyd, "we have killed President Lincoln and Secretary Seward."

Booth and Herold then went looking for a doctor to tend to Booth's injured leg. Booth wrote in his diary that he "rode sixty miles that night, with the bones of my leg tearing the flesh at every jump." The doctor the two men were looking for was Dr. Samuel Alexander Mudd, who was about thirty miles away, not sixty as Booth claimed. When the two men arrived at the Mudd farm in Charles County, Maryland, it was around four o'clock in the morning on April 15. Herold dismounted and knocked loudly on the doctor's front door. When Dr. Mudd answered, he observed the two men, who he claimed appeared to be in distress and in need of assistance.

Dr. Samuel Alexander Mudd's house and boarding house, Oak Hill, Charles County, Waldorf, Maryland. Circa 1895. Mudd grew up on Oak Hill, his father's tobacco plantation of several hundred acres, which was located 30 miles southeast of downtown Washington, D.C., and was worked by 89 slaves.

Mudd then invited the men in and had the injured one lie on the sofa in the parlor; when Dr. Mudd later retold this story, he claimed not to have known either man. In his statement of May 16, 1865, Dr. Mudd described Booth's leg "as slight a breaking as it could be." The doctor continued, "the patient also complained of pain in his back." Although Mudd examined Booth, he could see no reason for his back pain "unless it might have been in consequence of his falling from his horse, as he said he had done." This was one of the few times Booth told the truth, and if Booth had a slight back injury, it backs up the claim he did, in fact, fall from his horse.

When Dr. Mudd finished setting Booth's fractured fibula (broken left leg, per Booth's diary), he allowed him to rest in an upstairs bedroom where Booth would have some privacy. Dr. Mudd then instructed his hired help to care for the two horses. It was the statement of one of the farmhands, Thomas Davis, which helps back up the claim of an accident with the horse. Thomas Davis noticed that one horse "had been hurt; his shoulder was swelled right smart."

Davis said the small bay had a "piece of skin off the inside of the left foreleg the size of a silver dollar." Another comment Davis made was that Mrs. Mudd told him the injured man had fallen from his horse in Beantown and would be on their way now that Dr. Mudd had fixed him up.

It seems very possible from what has been presented above that what we all assumed to know about the events following Booth's shooting of President Lincoln could be, in fact, wrong. From middle school onward, we have read about John Wilkes Booth jumping from the President's Box at Ford's Theatre and allegedly breaking his leg. Could it be that history has been presented to us incorrectly? As time passes, more information and theories continue to be brought forward. To the best of my ability, I have tried to avoid giving wild speculation about Booth, and I have simply examined what people of the time said, including Booth. However, what would be the point of Booth claiming he broke his leg in the Theater if, in fact, he broke it when he fell from his horse? One reason would be because of the embarrassment Booth felt. Can one imagine the humiliation Booth would have felt if people had known the famous assassin of the "tyrant" Lincoln had fallen off his horse? I think Booth felt it sounded a lot more heroic when he made a claim "in jumping, broke my leg" after shooting Lincoln.

This is solid evidence that Booth did not break his leg at Ford's Theatre while riding to meet up with his fellow conspirator, David Herold when his horse fell. Also, Booth had a small broken bone in his left leg and complained to Dr. Mudd that his leg was injured, and so was his back.

This is consistent with a riding accident. Additionally, the story of the fall from the horse was told to more than one person, including Herold. There is also a confirmed report of an injured horse. Booth would have no reason to lie at this point, and with the statements above, we now have the authentic way John Wilkes Booth broke his leg.

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Dr. Samuel Mudd claimed not to recognize the two men who appeared at his home on the morning of April 15, 1865.

On their escape from Washington, John Wilkes Booth and David Herold arrived at Mudd's house at about 4 o'clock on the morning of April 15, 1865. Mudd used his medical kit to treat Booth's broken leg and allowed the two men to sleep in his home. He later told investigators that he did not recognize Booth, although they met numerous times before.

Mudd's medical kit and Booth's boot and spur found in Mudd's house became evidence in the trial of Mudd and seven other conspirators. The military tribunal convicted Mudd, sentencing him to life in prison at Fort Jefferson in the Dry Tortugas (a small group of islands located in the Gulf of Mexico) at the end of the Florida Keys. Mudd was handcuffed and shackled for the journey there.

In 1867 there was an outbreak of yellow fever at the prison. When the prison doctor died, Mudd took over the position, halting the spread of the disease. 

In 1869 President Andrew Johnson pardoned Mudd, Edman Spangler, and Samuel Arnold.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.