Two books were essential for the composition of this podcast:
“The Killing of Crazy Horse,” by Thomas Powers and “Crazy Horse: A Lakota Life,” by Kingsley Bray.
The main theme music is “You Cant Beat the Machine.”:
The other outro music at the end of part one is a public domain native war cry.
A popular actor, John Wilkes Booth used his professional access to Ford’s Theater to assassinate President Lincoln.
In April of 1865, Booth was an American celebrity. Having earned as much as 20,000 dollars a year, the equivalent of over 600, 000 dollars today, Booth was also described as the handsomest man in America and discretely involved with Lucy Hale, the daughter of a US Senator. But Booth was also a Confederate sympathizer and a virulent racist who was enraged by Lee’s surrender and negatively obsessed with Abraham Lincoln, especially after the President stated that black Union soldiers should be granted the right to vote.
Junius Booth provided his family a rural log cabin home near Bel Air as well as a residence in central Baltimore. Eventually, he constructed a more ornate residence near the log cabin which was called Tudor Hall. It was probably fortunate that John Wilkes was sent to boarding school as a teenager, a development that afforded him distance from his father’s glum and occasionally violent personality.
Gripping and turning the doorknob, Booth timed his entrance perfectly, the entire audience focused on a highpoint of the play. Following this access, Booth reached into the deep right pocket of his jacket, retrieved his derringer and cocked the hammer.
The box was briefly illuminated by the flash of the gun’s muzzle, the .44 caliber round entering the President’s skull, at a diagonal which began at the lower left of the head, below the ear and, travelling upward, lodging behind the right eye. Abraham Lincoln slumped forward, his chin resting on his chest as if he had fallen asleep. For a split second the entire theater sat silently motionless and confused. Only Major Henry Rathbone moved towards the wild eyed intruder who had invaded the box. Booth raised his knife, fully intent on stabbing Rathbone to death but the Major was able to parry the assassin’s downward thrust with his arm, incurring a deep wound near the elbow.
Of his three co-conspirators, Herold was the most valuable to Booth at this point of his flight. The 22 year old was an experienced outdoorsman and hunter who knew this area of the Maryland landscape, even in the darkness. Although jubilant about his attack, Booth’s broken leg was starting to cause him great difficulty. When the pair reached Surrattville, it was Herold who pounded on the door to wake up the already sleeping proprietor of the tavern, John Lloyd. Lloyd retrieved the two rifles and field glasses most likely mentioned by Mrs. Suratt earlier that evening, but Booth took only the field glasses, his injury wouldn’t allow him to hoist a gun. Herold got a bottle of whiskey as well and he and Booth took some generous swallows before paying the innkeeper a dollar as well as regaling him with the stunning news that they had killed the President and Secretary of State. Lloyd was terrified and reacted by beseeching both men to leave as quickly as possible.
About a mile away on Madison Place, the home of Secretary of State William Seward was also the scene of terrible carnage. Seward was already convalescing from the effects of an April 9 carriage accident that broke his arm and jaw. Lewis Powell would use these injuries to gain entrance to Seward’s brick mansion. David Herold, a pharmacist assistant by trade, helped concoct a small butcher paper package tied with string that Powell would claim was medicine prescribed by Seward’s doctor. Powell and Herold waited until the rooms of the mansion were darkened and the occupants were heading for bed. As Herold looked on, Lewis Powell handed him his horse and made his way to Seward’s front door. A black, nineteen year old servant named William Bell answered the knock. In front of him stood a well dressed man with a small package. Powell claimed he had medicine for Seward and even knew the proper name of the physician. Bell accepted this explanation but became adamant that Powell would have to leave the medicine with him. Powell ignored him, pushed his way inside and began to ascend the stairway to the second floor. At the top of the stairs stood Frederick Seaward, son of the Secretary, who also requested that Powell give him the medicine as the Secretary was asleep and could not be disturbed. Powell again insisted that the medicine must be delivered personally. Unbeknownst to Powell, Seward’s bedroom was only a few feet away. At this critical moment, Seaward’s daughter, Fanny, who was bedside attending her father, opened the bedroom door and told her brother that actually her father was awake. Now Powell knew exactly where his prey was but rather than aggressively barging his way in, he continued to argue with Fred Seward who insisted he either leave the medicine or go back to the doctor. Powell seemed to acquiesce but in the split second of walking down the stairs and satisfying Seward’s son that he was leaving, he quickly whirled, drawing a pistol from his coat pocket. Pointing it directly at Seward’s face, he pulled the trigger for what should have been a fatal gunshot. The gun misfired with an ominous click, but Powell began to pistol whip the smaller man into submission while William Bell ran down the stairs and out into the street shouting “murder” at the top of his lungs. After beating Fred Seward half to death, Lewis Powell tossed him aside and turned his attention to his father’s bedroom door.
Booth sensed that his leg needed immediate medical attention, especially if he was to successfully escape. He thought of Dr. Samuel Mudd, but knew Mudd lived in a rural area that is isolated even today, near the small town of Bryantown, MD. Seventeen miles from Surrattville, it took fours hours to get to their destination, and without Herold, Booth never would have found the narrow path that lead to the doctor’s two story, bright white home. At four in the morning, Herold began to pound on another door that Dr. Mudd warily and eventually answered. Booth hung back just as wary as Mudd. Herold explained that there had been a riding accident on the way to Washington and his companion had broken his leg. Mudd recognized Booth as he emerged from the shadows and helped him up the stairs.
Following his Boston performances, Booth then refused any additional work, appearing on November 25, 1864 in New York with his two brothers in Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar.” Booth promised to participate in this benefit celebrating 300 years of the author’s birth, proceeds to be donated to construct a statue of the Bard in Central Park, which still stands.
One of the first senior government officials to arrive on the scene at the Peterson House was Secretary of War Edwin Stanton. Stanton had already been to the Seward home after being informed of the attack by a messenger as he prepared for bed. Eventually hearing about the President, Stanton resolved to go to the vicinity of Ford’s Theater and take charge of the situation as quickly as possible.
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A well known actor, John Wilkes Booth used his professional access to enter Ford’s theater and assassinate President Lincoln
In April of 1865, John Wilkes Booth was a very depressed 27-year old. His career in shambles, his fortune gone and involved in a volatile and passionate romantic relationship that was tenuous at best only added to his general agonizing over Confederate collapse. To former colleagues and associates he seemed perpetually intoxicated, unstable, and possibly mentally unhinged.
John Wilkes Booth subsequently spent several months attempting to coordinate a feasible plan to abduct the President. He proposed kidnapping Lincoln during the President’s frequent trips to visit wounded troops at the Soldiers Home on the outskirts of the capital, on the President’s occasional, impromptu carriage rides which transpired with little security and even at Ford’s Theater itself which Lincoln frequently attended and Booth had both unlimited access to and specific knowledge of. But none of these proposals ever amounted to any substantive efforts, the most glaring failure the absence of Booth to do anything at all despite his and other conspirators photographically documented presence only a few feet away from President Lincoln during the inauguration on March 10, 1865.
So familiar was Booth with the theater that he crossed under the stage during the performance via a trap door and subterranean passage. He emerged on Tenth street, at the front of the building and headed to a saloon next door. Casual observers would assume that Booth had come to the play as a pedestrian, only a few backstage employees knew he had a horse. Booth entered the Star Saloon at approximately 10 PM. He ordered whiskey and a bottle was placed in front of him and eventually water. Quickly downing a shot, he remained alone and was not bothered by other patrons as he reflected on the task ahead. Eventually, he paid for the drink and walked out of the bar and down the street to the theater. He heard the dialogue as he entered, reassured that he still had plenty of time.
Booth’s access to the inauguration was the result of his ongoing and serious romance with Lucy Hale, the daughter of Senator John Hale of New Hampshire. Booth and the Hales lived in the same hotel in Washington and the handsome actor and very attractive 24 year old first crossed paths in 1863. Unlike some of Booth’s other, more sordid romantic entanglements, this relationship followed the traditional courtship mores of the period with attendance at formal dancing events and the exchange of flowery letters. But it was also complicated by the Senator’s appointment as Minister to Spain, a posting that required the family’s relocation to Europe. Lucy Hale would actually officially break up with Booth at least once, only to resume seeing him again. What Lucy’s actual intention was in April of 1865 is still disputed but it was clear that, despite its unpublicized nature, this was a serious relationship.
Richard Garrett petitioned the Federal government for reimbursement of the building and tobacco curing tools destroyed during Booth’s capture. He was officially labeled an enemy sympathizer in a time of war and his claim was rejected. The farm was eventually abandoned, the Garrett family shunned by their neighbors as complicit in Booth’s capture and death. The notorious property was a popular landmark for tourists and although eventually sold, it remained unoccupied until the farmhouse, by now completely derelict, was bulldozed in the 1940’s by the land’s new owner, the federal government. Today, the site of the Garrett farm is an empty clearing within the wooded median of a busy four lane Virginia state highway, a single historical marker on the side of the road the only acknowledgement of the historic location.
One individual who completely escaped official sanction was Booth’s executioner, Boston Corbett. When angrily confronted by Everton Conger only minutes after Booth was shot, Corbett was completely forthcoming, claiming that it was the hand of God that directed the act. For anyone who knew the sergeant, this was not an insignificant statement. Corbett was so fanatically religious that he had previously castrated himself to avoid the temptation of the devil, which he believed omnipresent.
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The books used for this podcast included: Manhunt, by James Swanson and Fortune’s Fool, by Terry Alford.
Besides traditional renditions of “Hail to the Chief” and “Maryland, My Maryland,” two songs were used by Sergey Cheremisinov:
“Train” and “When You Leave.”
Charles Bukowski: Slacker, Drunkard, Misanthrope, Poet, Artist, Hero.
Heinrich Karl Bukowski was born in Andernach, Germany on August 16, 1920. Andernach is a small German town located on the Rhine River, between Bonn and Koblenz. Bukowski’s father, also named Heinrich Karl Bukowski was a sergeant in the US Army of occupation following World War One. He met and impregnated Bukowski’s mother Katerina Fett in late 1919 and their marriage would not occur until July of 1920, one month before the birth of their son
The Bukowski’s settled briefly in Baltimore where they Anglicized their names before saving enough money to relocate to Los Angeles, where Bukowski’s father was born and raised. Bukowski’s paternal grandparents were separated, his grandfather a successful carpenter plagued by alcoholism. The extended family was quite dysfunctional with siblings harboring deep resentment for each other.
This dysfunction also plagued Bukowski’s relationship with his father, who beat him from a young age and was generally cold and hostile. The family would come to reside in a typically modest home in a central Los Angeles neighborhood at 2122 Longwood Avenue. Bukowski spent a great deal of time describing his painful and difficult childhood and he would refer to this address as the “the house of agony.”
Bukowski would publish his second novel, Factotum, in 1975. This novel was an autobiographical account of Bukowski’s menial work career as a younger man. It would be reviewed in the New York Times, the last sentence even comparing it favorably to Orwell’s “Down and Out In London and Paris.” His column remained a longtime weekly feature of the Los Angeles Free Press after Open City folded and his works were featured across the literary spectrum from Black Sparrow to various pornographic magazines that to Bukowski were merely sexually graphic hackwork written for a buck.
While still an underground figure in the US, Bukowski’s stature in Europe was underlined by his October, 1978 appearance on such programs as the French intellectual television show Apostrophes, hosted by Bernard Pivot. The central guest around a roundtable of celebrities, Bukowski was drinking wine out of the bottle and quickly got involved in a profane, drunken exchange with the host. Mid-show, he decided that the interview was a waste of time and staggered out, propping himself up on the head of one of the other guests as the audience looked on with amused incredulity.
Owners attempted to demolish the entire court where several older central Los Angeles dwellings, including Bukowski’s, stood. A lengthy process began to save the structure, ultimately successful, despite the potential developer’s claims that Bukowski was among other things, a sexual degenerate, an abusive drunkard and an anti-Semite, Nazi sympathizer.
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Charles Bukowski: slacker, drunkard, misanthrope, poet, artist, hero.
Although he was over sixty, Charles Bukowski was just hitting the stride of his professional life. With money rolling in, he no longer gave public readings and his life settled into a daily, rigid, if undemanding routine. He got up late and then headed out in his newly purchased, expensive, 320i BMW sedan. Opening the sunroof and tuning into a classical music station, Bukowski would head to whatever Southern California track was featuring live racing. Santa Anita, Hollywood, Del Mar, it didn’t matter.
He would bet a modest amount and then return home to have dinner with Linda Lee. Then he would grab a bottle of wine and head to his writing study, working late into the night.
Linda King was an aspiring actress who ultimately turned to poetry and sculpting when her acting career went nowhere. Through her LA poetry connections she met Bukowski and asked to sculpt his likeness. After visiting him in 1970, at his DeLongpre apartment she was initially turned off by his flab, age and drunkenness but over time she became attracted to him enough to insist upon a makeover before they got involved. An indication of Bukowski’s interest was his willingness to cut back on alcohol and to lose weight while pursuing this relationship. Unfortunately, neither would remain monogamous during their subsequent five year involvement and this stormy relationship frequently deteriorated to one party tormenting or abusing the other. Acquaintances of Bukowski could immediately gauge the current situation by the presence of Linda’s remarkable sculpted likeness in the Delongpre residence. If it was missing, Linda and Hank had broken it off, usually temporarily. This break became permanent in 1975 after a raucous incident involving Linda smashing out the windows of Bukowski’s Carlton Way apartment with books she had stolen from the home’s interior. She had reason to be angry after having suffered numerous taunts meant to inspire jealousy and even suffering blackened eyes as a result of Bukowski’s physical violence. Ultimately, only the bust of Bukowski survived this relationship, Linda possesses it to this day.
By 1989, Bukowski was in his late sixties. His body began to wear out after years of abuse and he was actually diagnosed with tuberculosis, dormant since childhood but resurgent as a result of stress and debilitation. A lengthy dose of antibiotics prompted Bukowski to give up alcohol and he would never resume his heavy consumption, his body no longer able to tolerate the effects of heavy drinking.
Charles Bukowski was buried at Green Hills Memorial Cemetery after a funeral attended by friends, including Sean Penn and publisher John Martin, who both spoke at the service. While the cemetery is located in the wealthy enclave of Rancho Palos Verdes, Bukowski’s grave is on a hillside overlooking the port of San Pedro. His epitaph reads simply “Don’t Try” an allusion to the idea that if you are going to attempt an artistic or unconventional lifestyle don’t do it half-heartedly, go all the way.
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Two books were used for the material contained in this podcast:
“Charles Bukowski: Locked In The Arms Of A Crazy Life,” and
“Charles Bukowski,” by Barry Miles.
The intro music for part one is Digital Memories by the Unicorn Heads. For more info see http://unicornheads.com.
Outro for part one is the overture to Swan Lake by Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky.
The intro and outro for part two are excerpts from the Pas De Deux from “The Nutcracker,” also by Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky
The ultimate American traitor, Benedict Arnold’s life was much more complicated
Montgomery and Arnold spent December planning the inevitable storming of the city, a siege impossible against superior British artillery and December 31st the end of the enlistment period of many of Arnold’s militiamen. They resolved to attack central Quebec City by scaling the walls on the first cloudy night towards the end of the month. Perhaps not coincidentally an attack was ordered on the snowy night of December 30 to take place in the early morning hours of the 31st. Rockets signaled the 4AM attack by the divided American column but these rockets also alerted the British, who, tipped off by an American deserter, were expecting the attack. Montgomery and several of his officers were killed after literally sawing through a log barricade and attempting to storm a heavily fortified blockhouse.
As the sound of fighting reached Arnold in his tent in the vicinity of General Gates, again comfortably headquartered out of harm’s way, the demoted general could not stand staying out of battle and suddenly climbed on his horse and headed rapidly into the conflict. Although Gates sent an aide to personally order Benedict Arnold off of the battlefield, this aide would never catch up with him. Arnold spent the rest of the day leading several counterattacks, so visible at the head of several American assaults that it seemed miraculous that he was not killed. Upon successfully seizing British fortifications after hand to hand combat, Arnold was inevitably wounded in the same leg injured previously in Quebec, his dead horse compounding wounds by falling on top of him. With the British Army in full retreat, Arnold was carried behind the lines on a litter.
Washington became aware of a new British invasion in the Hudson Valley, this time commanded not by the plodding, deliberate Governor Carleton but by the flamboyant John Burgoyne. Understanding that the current commanders of the colonial forces in the area, Philip Schuyler and Horatio Gates, having already surrendered Fort Ticonderoga without firing a shot, would be greatly aided by the addition of the aggressive and daring Arnold, Washington decided to involve him in the defense of the region.
Burgoyne’s 1,000 casualties underlined the overwhelming 3-1 manpower disadvantage he now faced. Reluctantly, after meeting with whatever general staff that had not been killed, he came to the unavoidable decision to surrender, which occurred officially on October 17. This stunning defeat of a battle tested, traditional British army at the hands of what was considered an undisciplined, under equipped rabble sent shock waves throughout Europe.
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Benedict Arnold is the ultimate American traitor, his life was actually much more complicated
During the British occupation, Peggy Shippen interacted closely with several British officers and enjoyed a flirtation with Major John Andre, a member of British commander Sir Henry Clinton’s staff. Peggy continued to communicate with Andre after the British retreat from Philadelphia and when the British officer was appointed to head Clinton’s intelligence efforts, the Arnolds exploited this connection.
On Arnold’s behalf, A Philadelphia loyalist named Joseph Stansbury covertly met personally with Andre in New York City and established ground rules for communication by letter involving secret code and invisible ink. Throughout 1779 Arnold provided Andre and Sir Henry Clinton information about troop movements. When he began to request large sums of money for his defection, Andre made it clear that this must involve the surrender of a major army or military installation.
At noon on October 2, 1780, when he was conveyed to a peach orchard in Tappan, NY, nearby the stone house where he was confined, John Andre was greeted by a gathering of over two thousand people. By then, his story had gripped the public imagination. Accounts of the British officer toasting his captors and insisting that they remain in good cheer and sending a distraught servant from his presence “until you can show yourself more manly,” had only endeared him further as a tragic hero merely doing his duty. Andre, a gifted artist, blithely sketched a self-portrait on the day before his execution and as he walked briskly to the gallows he is said to have only hesitated when he saw that he was to be hanged and not shot.
Although the three men who detained John Andre, John Paulding, Isaac Van Wert and Daniel Williams have entered the history books as heroes of the Revolution, they were in fact thugs operating in the shadow of British lines, intent on robbing any loyalists who happened into their midst. When Andre approached their hiding place near what is now the Tarrytown Sleepy Hollow border the three suddenly darted out onto the road and detained Andre at musket point. Andre, confused by Paulding’s Hessian coat worn to facilitate an escape from a British jail in New York City only days earlier, believed that he had to be way beyond British lines. He blurted out that he was a British officer and was glad to be among friends. Informed roughly that he was among Americans, Andre tried to backtrack and protest that he was actually on official business from General Arnold and presented his pass. Aggressively intent on money, his three captors ignored Andre’s threats of Arnold’s retribution and forced him into the woods. Correctly understanding that he was a British officer, they insisted that he must have valuables, stripped him naked and found only his gold watch and a few continental dollars that Smith had given him. Leaving Andre wearing only his boots they even ripped apart his coat and his saddle in search of cash. Convinced it had to be somewhere they finally forced him to take off his footwear, revealing the folded papers in one of his stockings. Only Paulding was barely literate but he quickly deduced that Andre was a spy.
Although Washington conducted a brief negotiation with Henry Clinton, the price he demanded for Andre’s freedom was impossible to meet. Arnold for Andre, a trade that would have contradicted British military regulations regarding deserters. Clinton refused, also having personally guaranteed Arnold’s safety if the plot failed, but asked for a postponement to allow for an official meeting in which the case could be reviewed. Clinton also enlisted Benedict Arnold to compose a letter threatening Washington with retribution against the numerous captives under British control. By the time this letter was delivered, Andre’s fate had been sealed. Although his hand is said by observers to have been shaking, George Washington personally signed the order for John Andre’s execution for ”treason against the United States.” He refused Andre’s last request that he be shot by firing squad. Washington reasoned that Andre was a spy and spies are to be hanged and he did not want to appear to be softening during one of the darkest periods of the Revolution.
But, probably realizing that he was going nowhere in Britain, Arnold purchased a ship and attempted to rebuild the trading business that he successfully conducted before the revolution. He downsized his household, left his wife and family in London and moved to St. John, New Brunswick, Canada. Spending much of his time at sea, Arnold had several business conflicts, was involved in a suspicious warehouse fire and even fathered an illegitimate son. His unpopularity was such that he decided to sell all of his holdings in 1791 and return to London.
The last five years of Arnold’s life were a dreary existence in which his health failed, his eldest son died during military service in Jamaica and his only daughter suffered a stroke that left her an invalid. His wife also was greatly affected by her social isolation and while she remained with her husband and handled his business affairs, her letters indicate a household permeated with economic uncertainty and despair.
Although a plaque in the basement of tiny St. Mary’s Church in Battersea, London memorializes Arnold, his wife and daughter, in fact Arnold’s remains lie unidentified in a common grave that resulted from a renovation of the church over a century later. The stone tablet was actually donated in 2004 by an American who felt that Arnold’s initial achievements in the Revolution were not properly acknowledged. Its basement location is currently occasionally used as a parish kindergarten so the memorial shares space with various children’s drawings and a fish tank. So obscure is this monument that it can only be viewed by special appointment, a legacy in keeping with Benedict Arnold’s all consuming personal bitterness.
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The following books were used during the composition of this podcast:
Benedict Arnold: Patriot and Traitor, by Willard Sterne Randall
Peggy Shippen, The Women Behind Benedict Arnold’s Plot To Betray America, by Stephen Case and Mark Jacob
The Traitor and the Spy: Benedict Arnold and John Andre, by James Flexner
Music within the podcast:
Monteverdi’s Toccata From L’Orfeo by the United States Army Old Guard and Bach’s March Fur Die Arche by the same artists.
