Manhunt (66 page)

Another favorite character was Fannie Seward, the young daughter of Secretary of State William H. Seward. To read about her heroism the night Louis Powell tried to stab her father to death in his bed, and to read her haunting recollections in her diary, was surprising and inspiring. Her story ended sadly with her dying so young, at age twenty-one. She would have been a wonderful writer. I wish I could have known her.

Another favorite character was Thomas Jones, the Confederate courier and secret agent who helped Booth and David Herold cross the Potomac River by providing them his little boat. So for me, one of the great pleasures of researching the book was to learn much more about the characters who are often quickly passed over as fringe characters or unimportant players. But once you come to know them, they become fascinating and propel
Manhunt
forward, adding so much character and color to the book.

There is an enduring interest in Abraham Lincoln's assassination
—
where do you think this interest comes from
?
What is it about this event that makes it so fascinating to so many people
?

Well, I think the interest is there for a few reasons. First, Lincoln was certainly our greatest president, so there's an immediate fascination with his death, as there is with
all things Lincoln. We look to him for inspiration in times of trouble. We look to him and his words for the meaning of America.

Lincoln's assassination was a shocking event that is difficult for a modern audience to imagine. It was the first assassination of an American president, and it occurred at the climax of Union victory in the Civil War. We're children of a more jaded age—we've lived through or read about the assassinations of Presidents Garfield, McKinley, and Kennedy, of Robert Kennedy, Martin Luther King, and Malcolm X. Sadly the list goes on and on. I think we return to the Lincoln assassination because that is where this terrible progression of American political assassination began. I think we return to Lincoln and the origins to discover what lessons we can learn, or to think about how these assassinations have affected American history.

And then of course there's the drama itself. John Wilkes Booth was a great Shakespearean, and he scripted and performed the assassination. He did it expertly, with devious style. He assassinated the president and jumped to the stage before an audience of more than one thousand people. One of the most recognizable celebrities of his time, he didn't try to disguise himself. He raised his bloody dagger in his hand and cried, “Sic semper tyrannis,”“The South is avenged,” and “I have done it!” There's an inherent drama in the Booth story—the chase for him, his incredible ability to hide from federal
authorities, and his capture and death at the burning barn.

Many primary source materials are used in
Manhunt—
contemporary newspaper accounts, books, relics from the assassination. How important were these types of materials in your writing of
Manhunt
?

They were absolutely essential. I don't think I could have written the book without my own collection of original materials, and original materials in other collections and libraries. I wanted to immerse myself in the story to the level that when I read a newspaper story about the death of Lincoln published the morning he died, I wanted to have the original newspaper in my hands. I wanted to read the story and see it exactly as someone living at that time would have seen it when they bought the paper from a newsboy. Some of these papers are tough to find on microfilm anyway, but the microfilm gives such a dry, remote sense of history. I want to feel that rag paper in my hands. I want to turn the pages. I want to see how the stories are laid out on the page. When I wrote
Manhunt
, I wanted to read about the death of Lincoln exactly the way people who were alive then read about it, reading about events as they unfolded at the time.

The same goes for original letters, pamphlets, and photographs produced at the time. I wanted to hold the photos in my hand. See them in the exact size, the exact coloration as someone alive at the time
might have done. I also listened to much of the music that was popular in Lincoln's time, including some of the mourning and death marches written after Lincoln's death—including a bizarre song about John Wilkes Booth. I tried to immerse myself in these materials so I could really go back in time. The great thing about these original materials is that they create a time capsule, and if you surround yourself with them, I think you can get a point of entry into the mood of the time. I knew that to transport the reader back in time, I had to go there myself first.

During most of the time I was researching
Manhunt
, I didn't have time to furnish my house. I'd moved to Washington, D.C., recently, and for more than a year, I had a table, a lamp, a desk, and a bed. No television. No stereo. No radio. It was me and hundreds of Civil War newspapers, books about Lincoln, original photographs, and documents. I think it would have been a different book if I hadn't surrounded myself with all the original materials. They were just invaluable, indispensable, to making the book what it became.

Is there anything that has been lost to time that you wish you could see
?

Well, there are a couple of wonderful relics I'd sure love to find. Probably number one is Sergeant Boston Corbett's pistol—the one he used to shoot and kill John Wilkes Booth. It was a prize relic, even at the
time. Collectors had offered Boston Corbett up to one thousand dollars for the pistol. At the time it had probably cost around fifteen dollars, though it wasn't his to sell; it had been purchased by the U.S. government and issued to him as a sergeant in the Sixteenth New York Cavalry. But soon enough it was stolen from him. Corbett fell asleep and somebody took the famous pistol, and it's now been lost to history. The person who took it surely must have known its value, but I imagine that over time as it passed from hand to hand, and generation to generation, its history and importance have been lost. So I would guess that somewhere out there, a collector owns the revolver used to kill John Wilkes Booth and he doesn't even know he has it. I would like to find that historic weapon.

I'd also like to find the gold stickpin that Colonel Conger removed from John Wilkes Booth's shirt as he lay dying at the Garrett farm. I'd love to find the missing pages that were torn out of John Wilkes Booth's diary. I don't think they contained some ultrasecret of the assassination—probably just drafts of some of Booth's notes to himself during his escape—but I'd like to know what they said. Alexander Gardner's photographs of Booth's autopsy have never been found and are presumed lost. I would love to find some of the missing John Wilkes Booth letters. People were afraid to be connected with Booth in the days after the assassination, so many people destroyed or secreted their letters from Booth.

Things are still out there. Recently
several John Wilkes Booth love letters were discovered. A teenage girlfriend had kept them hidden until her death and her family kept them secret for more than a century: They weren't discovered and published until the early 1990s. I am absolutely convinced that Sergeant Corbett's pistol is out there waiting to be found, and that there are additional John Wilkes Booth letters out there that are hidden away. The manhunt continues for me. Even though my book has been published, I'm still researching the topic, and I'm still hoping to discover other relics, letters, documents, or photographs that have been lost for more than a century. That is the most alluring thing about writing history. The story never really ends, and you never know what amazing thing you might discover tomorrow.

 

Zekiah Swamp and Nanjemoy Creek,
Charles County, Maryland,
17 and 22 April 1865

April 13th
                                    
14 Friday the Ides

Until to day 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 & great must be done. But its failure is 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 Col- 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 bones 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 out-live my country. This night (before the deed), I wrote a long article and left it for one of the Editors of the National Inteligencer, in which I fully set forth our reasons for our proceedings. He or the Govmt

Friday 21
—

After being hunted like a dog through swamps, woods, and last night being chased by gun boats till I was forced to return wet cold and starving, with every mans 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 countrys but his own wrongs to avenge. I hope for no gain. I knew no private wrong. I struck for my country and that alone. A country groaned beneath this tyranny and prayed for this end. Yet now behold the cold hand they extend to me. God
cannot
pardon me if I have done wrong. Yet I cannot see any wrong except in serving a degenerate people. The little, very little I left behind to clear my name, the Govmt 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 on my family, and am sure there is no pardon
in Heaven for me since man condemns me so. I have only
heard
what has been done
(
except what I did myself
)
and it fills me with horror. God try and forgive me and bless my mother. To night I will once more try the river with the intent to cross, though I have a greater desire to return to Washington and in a measure clear my name which I feel I can do. I do not repent the blow I struck. I may before God but not to man
.

I think I have done well, though I am abandoned, with the curse of Cain upon me. When if the world knew my heart
, that one
blow would have made me great, though I did desire no greatness
.

To night I try to escape these blood hounds 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 its with him, to damn or bless me. And for this brave boy with me who often prays
(
yes before and since
)
with a true and sincere heart, was it a 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 me
.