Time passed, however, and the murder of Gomer James was not accomplished. In truth, it was little spoken of. Political excitements and the occurrence of other absorbing events appeared to cause the Mollies to bury, if not forget, their enmity to the young Welshman. But, as facts distinctly indicated, their vengeance was only sleeping, to be awakened, in the future, with added strength and fury.
Barney Dolan, as my agent at about this time learned, encountered fresh trials. There was a movement on foot to 208get entirely rid of him. It culminated in the meeting of the County Convention, consisting of Bodymasters of all the principal divisions, at Mahanoy City, upon the peremptory call of the State Delegate, Captain Gallagher. As a part of the proceedings, which were promptly reported to the Secretary by Frank McAndrews, Dolan was cut off for life from all participation in, or benefit from, the order—in other words, expelled—and fined in the sum of five hundred dollars, on account of his failure to report and pay over to the State officials certain collections that he had made for the current year. While this summary action fell particularly hard upon Barney, constituting an act for which he appeared wholly unprepared, it was not unexpected by McKenna, who, it will be remembered, heard the topic hinted at by the State Secretary, Maguire, while visiting, some weeks before, at Summit Hill.
The Convention then proceeded to nominate and elect—as it seemed to have the right to do—Dolan's successor in office, and John Kehoe, of Girardville, was declared the unanimous choice. That cunning wire-puller and artful dodger, it seemed, had his tricks ready prepared, long before the day set for the Convention, and it was the easiest thing possible for him to slide his thin feet into Dolan's big shoes.
The decision of the meeting was also expressed, by vote of a majority of those present, that something more should be done to make the world look upon the Ancient Order of Hibernians as purely and simply a benevolent institution, in the coal regions, as it was supposed to be in other portions of the United States. It must no longer be accused of murders and assassinations, and lesser outrages, but, on the contrary, gain credit, at home and abr as the tried support of the widow and orphan, and the source of relief for the laborer, when unable to work, or when otherwise thrown out of employment. The real Mollies laughed in their sleeve, meanwhile, and none more heartily than John Kehoe, 209the newly-elected County Delegate. Capt. Gallagher might say and do what he would, the County Conventions, the State Conventions, and their officers, might pass resolutions, and issue orders and commands, and, after all, the small yet potential ring within their circle, encompassing the counties of Schuylkill, Carbon, and Columbia, would manage affairs and shape results, through the use of the order, to suit themselves. If murders and outrages were to be wrought, the Mollies had the organization, and the society held the men in its midst to perform them quickly and well. The State Delegate could return to his home in Pittsburg, if he so pleased, and set forth to the other officials that he had permanently fixed affairs in the anthracite regions, might even flatter himself that he really had accomplished something in the proper direction; still the Mollies knew better, being fully aware that, at the moment of holding this Convention, the lives of men were being threatened by themselves and their associates. These menaces were soon to be consummated. The machinery sometimes moved tardily, but like the monster engine that propels the largest vessel, it performed its work remorselessly, almost noiselessly, and effectually.
The Convention passed its resolves and adjourned.
Several violent outrages, of more or less importance and cruelty, were perpetrated at this date. About one of them McKenna learned from Frank McAndrew, the night after the Convention, when he had retired to his room at Cooney's and prepared to sleep. The Bodymaster came at a late hour, roused the landlord, and demanded admittance to the Secretary, which Cooney could not well refuse, went up to the room, and, sitting on the side of the bed, informed that weary personage that he, McAndrew, having just left "Bucky" Donnelly, of Raven Run, from that person had received the particulars of a fight between the Mollies and the Sheet Irons, at Connor's Patch, a night or two previously. 210Phil. Nash, John Brennan, alias "Spur" Brennan, and Donnelly were engaged in it, opposed by a large force of German and Welsh miners. From the narrative of McAndrew it seemed to have been another edition of Donnybrook Fair. Two of the Sheet Iron lads received wounds from pistol shots—one being considered as mortally hurt. After McAndrew had taken leave, McKenna sought slumber, but was once more awakened by Tom Hurley, who desired to give his version of the affair. He fully corroborated the story McAndrew told, and added:
"Sure, then, Jack Kehoe went the bail of ivery mother's son of 'em yesterday, at the coort!"
"That accounts for the big vote from that part of the county cast for Jack Kehoe for County Delegate!"
"An' you're right, there!" said Hurley.
After thus filling the listener's brain with subjects for frightful dreams, Hurley also left the room, and McKenna was not sorry to be alone.
The operative did not quickly recover from his illness, and, during several weeks, was constantly under the doctor's care, yet managing to be about the city, part of the time. After paying a visit to his physician, one morning, the report reached his ears, through a friend, that, as a supposed leader of the Mollie Maguires in the county, his life was in imminent danger. Father Bridgeman—so ran the story—was joining hands with the avowed enemies of the order—in fact, standing at the head of the Iron Clads, everywhere denouncing the Mollies and giving all perfect freedom to hunt out and shoot them down wherever found. It was hardly probable, the operative believed, the priest would ever carry his resentment thus far. But should the tale prove true, bloodshed was sure to follow. For his own part, he would now have double duty to perform. One, for the Agency, in following up the work of the society, and if possible, bringing the perpetrators of crime to punishment, and another 211the care of his own life, which was liable to be lost as a consequence of his complete assumption of the guise of a Mollie Maguire. The task had been difficult before. Now it was assuming gigantic proportions. To complicate and retard matters, he was ill, and necessarily confined much of the time to one place, if not to his sleeping-room.
After recovering somewhat, McKenna accompanied McAndrew on a visit to Jack Kehoe, at Girardville, to find out if certain rumors about the County Delegate threatening to refuse recognition to Shenandoah Division were true or not. When the question was put to Kehoe, he laughed hypocritically and replied:
"Far from it! on the conthrary, I am prepared to say to yez, that, upon the payment of its back dues, Shenandoah Division can not only go on swimmingly, but, by applying to the County Secretary, Gavin, this very day, if you wish, you kin recaive the 'goods' for the quarther. An' let me say, by way of explanation, that whoever started the story I iver intended differently is a liar, an' I'll say it to his face!"
This was satisfactory to his visitors, the matter was soon settled, and they left to call on Gavin.
They also went to see Barney Dolan, the great deposed, finding him very despondent. He said his trial before the Convention was a one-sided farce, and as for fining him five hundred dollars, it was simply infamous. Thinking that there might be a chance for his case before the National Board, he had already written to Campbell, the National Secretary, at New York, but that worthy answered him briefly and to the point, that he, Dolan, was cut off, root and branch, and could only be reinstated by vote of the State Convention, upon settlement of all arrearages and suffering three months' probation.
"All of which," said Barney, "shows that I am in the minority now, and for the present Jack Kehoe is boss! But, by the rod of Aaron, and Moses too, I'll be back again, 212one of these fine days, spite of King Kehoe an' all who are forninst me! Wait a while and see what'll happen!"
And Barney winked his dexter eye in a winning way, as he placed the bottle of whisky on the counter for McAndrew and his Secretary.
Some articles appeared in a Western paper, at this date, charging that the Mollies determined who should act as assassins by lot, or with dice. This we knew very well to be untrue, but no attention was given the report. The truth was, the Bodymaster of a division, having himself conceived the necessity for an occurrence of the kind—or, upon secret or open petition of any influential member of the order to have some man put out of the way—at once called upon the proper men to perform the deed. Their plain duty was to obey, without questioning as to the why or wherefore. So blindly did the Mollies follow their officers in this, as in other matters, that they seldom failed, in the end, to accomplish all that was required—then the order gave the assassins protection, through an alibi, or aided with money to be employed in flying from the country. There was no need of a game of chance to decide. It wanted only the decree or request of the Bodymaster, which was to be complied with implicitly, and from which there was no appeal. McKenna apprehended that, in due course of events, he might be called upon by McAndrew—from his late acquired reputation as a violent character—to perform some work of this sort. However, by feigning intoxication, and in reality making way with a great quantity of liquor—when he could not, by exchanging glasses, or by some hocus-pocus or legerdemain, make those present believe he imbibed when he did not—he endeavored to create the impression among the Mollies—and he had already caused the general public to believe it—that he was quite unreliable, as he was too often under the control of drink. That he succeeded in this he soon became satisfied from conversations transpiring in his presence, while 213seemingly soaked to the point of stupidity in whisky, sodden and insensible, on the bar-room floor, or limply resting upon a bench in the corner.
On one occasion he heard Hurley say:
"Jim's a splendid fellow, a good scholar, as far as larnin' goes, an' a fighter not to meddle with—when he's McKenna. But he's too often somebody else! Whisky's too powerful for his head, an' a good job might be spoiled by givin' it in his charge!"
"That's so," said McAndrew, who was standing near.
They little thought their associate's love for and indulgence in liquor was all assumed, and that, at the very moment, he was, in reality, as sober as a judge and taking mental note of every word and act of the surrounding squad of Mollies. The emergencies of his great work, had he been otherwise inclined, which he was not, would have kept my emissary from over-indulgence during a residence in that particular vicinity.
Thus was McKenna made safe for the present. While he could listen, and learn, without danger of having to participate in troubles, for a season, yet he knew that such a game would not long serve his purpose, as he must be dragged in at last, or lose the confidence of those now placing their trust in him. It was well he adopted the ruse, however, as he knew not when his time might come.
On the tenth of August, 1874, at the regular meeting of Shenandoah division, the new "goods" were given out as follows:
The password was:
"What do you think of the Mayo election?"
"I think the fair West made a bad selection."
The answer was:
"Whom do you think will duly betray?"
214The quarreling toast was:
Question—"Don't get your temper high!"
Answer—"Not with a friend!"
The sign was made by placing the thumb of the right hand into the pocket of the pantaloons.
The answer, by putting the thumb of the left hand on the lower lip.
McKenna faithfully reported these things to Mr. Franklin the same night, despite his illness, and mailed the letter before retiring to his apartment.
The morning of Tuesday, the eleventh of August, the detective was awakened by his boarding-master, Cooney, with the information that two men, whose personal appearance he minutely described, and did not like, had called for and wanted very much to see him. Cooney put them off, saying McKenna was not at home, but would be by nine o'clock. He thought it prudent to do so, and also to warn his lodger to have a care for himself. They were gone, but would soon return. This person could not remember ever having seen parties of their exact shape and size, and it struck him that possibly they came from the Sheet Irons to assassinate him, because of the recent permission granted by the priest. This impression it was impossible to shake off while he was dressing. Before going down to breakfast, therefore, he examined the cartridges in his revolver, tested the condition of the lock, and left the weapon—carelessly, it must be admitted—at full cock, deposited in his right-hand outside coat pocket, convenient for use, in case of an emergency. He ate the morning meal in no pleasant frame of mind. But all was made clear, and his preparations for active hostilities shown to be unnecessary, by the coming in of his callers, who were only Peter Duffy and Manus O'Donnell, of Hazelton, with whom he had fraternized during the eventful dance and raffle at Buck Mountain. He suspected they were absent on some murderous errand, 215but had no fear that he was their supposed victim. The Secretary received his friends cordially, and after an invitation to Cleary's saloon, and laughing over a few jokes upon his escapade with the fascinating Mrs. McIntyre, McKenna endeavored to find out the business the men had in Schuylkill County, but they continued stubbornly reticent, saying they were only going to see some relatives, at Locust Gap, which possibly was the cause of their trip, work being dull at their homes. The new-comers were introduced to the principal men of Shenandoah Division, and, after a pleasant time in the city, in the afternoon took cars for their point of destination.
The operative slept soundly through another night. But his dreams were not blissful.
About this date, or perhaps a little earlier, a schoolmaster, named O'Hare, living near Tuscarora, was severely beaten by four men, who might have killed him had not some stout German girls, his pupils, driven them off and held the door against their return, thus allowing the victim to make his escape to the high-rO'Hare's crime consisting in being inimical to the Mollies and refusing to obey their notice to leave the region. He had in some way offended one John J. Slattery, a Bodymaster. A few nights after the day assault at the school-house, a band of the same order, headed, as was reported, by "Yellow Jack" Donahue, Bodymaster, went to O'Hare's residence, while he slept, set fire to the building and barn, burning both to the ground, O'Hare barely escaping with his life. He was left penniless, excepting the small sum due him as salary from the school board. This was another straw, showing the direction of the wind. Evidently disorder was on the increase in the neighborhood.
A little later, one O'Brien, a Mollie, beat his butty, an Englishman named Clements, in so cruel a style that his life was put in jeopardy.
216To strengthen the organization, and make it, if possible, more malignant, Muff Lawler had his nephew, Ed. Lawler, come home from Luzerne County, the old trouble with Brophy having been amicably arranged.
At the same time, to gain outward color of reformation, another meeting of the Bodymasters of the county was convened at Girardville. Muff Lawler, Tom Hurley, and John Gibbons were brought to trial, and, after discussion, cut off from the order during life; Lawler, for allowing a man to be robbed in his house, Hurley, for committing the crime, and Gibbons upon general principles, his particular offense not having been recorded. Dennis, alias "Bucky" Donnelly, was also expelled for exhibiting cowardice at the Connor's Patch affray, the second of the month, with the Sheet Irons, and for another offense—showing outside the division a letter which should only have been seen within the confines of the order. No other business of importance was transacted, the convocation dissolved, and the day terminated in a free fight, lasting twenty minutes, during which pistols and knives were resorted to, but without deadly effect. The reformatory measures of the Mollie Maguires, as it appeared, met strenuous opposition from certain quarters.
Later still, the month saw a row at Raven Run, when a Mollie by the name of Barnett received two bullets in his body, and Phil. Nash one through the left wrist, as he informed the detective, laying bare the wound. He said he took the pistol from a man in the opposing crowd of Sheet Irons, broke the weapon, and played havoc generally. After being shot, he employed his own pocket-knife to cut out the ball, which job he successfully accomplished. Barnett was dangerously injured, and it was doubtful if he would survive.
On the seventh of September, 1874, the resumption of the collieries had, for a time, a pacifying effect upon the irrepressibles of the coal country, and quiet seemed about restored. But Shenandoah Division grew in strength and numbers 217meanwhile. At a meeting held on the fifth of the month, Andrew Murphy, of Loss Creek, John Dean, John Carey, and John Walsh were accepted and duly initiated. A brother of the Bodymaster was rejected, at the suggestion of McAndrew in person, as he urged that the man proposed was continually in trouble and would surely bring disgrace upon the honorable brotherhood.
During the latter part of September occurred the decease of old Mr. Raines, a crippled miner, who for several years, through rheumatism and hurts received under a falling pillar, had been unable to perform any labor. From the same causes his body and limbs were bent forward into the shape of an irregular crescent. There was to be a loud wake, and McKenna having nearly recovered his health and good spirits—but being not yet cured of his adopted habit of drinking—received an invitation to be present. He was ready for a spree, or anything else, and went. The Raines place was near the Rappahannock works, on the rfrom Loss Creek to Girardville, where were situated a number of "patches" belonging to different collieries. The family was large, its range of acquaintance extended, and over a hundred men and women gathered to do honor, in their usual way, to the departed. The corpse was laid out in the largest and best room of the house, with candles at its head and feet. There was a dilapidated table in the center of the apartment, which for many seasons had seen service in parlor, dining-room, and kitchen, and now supported pipes, tobacco, and two bottles of liquor, with a generous supply of lucifer matches. At one end of the room was a cookstove, but as the weather was yet genial, no fire shone through its door. Benches and blocks of wood served as seats for the men and women, who were ranged about the walls and table, the majority of the men wearing their hats, and the ladies, with lace caps or without them, as accorded with their respective ages and circumstances in life. An 218old-fashioned pendulum clock, with weights, and a face as smoky as the surrounding walls, hung against the plastering at the other side of the place; there were a few pictures; and the last almanac issued by Dr. Jayne swung from a nail under an ancient square-framed looking-glass, which was inclining forward just above. But the principal thing to attract the eye of the detective, when he and his companions—Hurley and Monaghan—entered, was the corpse, to honor which all the people had assembled. The coffin could not yet be used—and for a good reason—the body would not fit into it, but the plain, walnut case rested in another room. Stretched out on a sheet spread over a rough board, which was supported at either end by a common chair, reposed all that was mortal of old Mr. Raines, clad in shroud and grave-clothes, and the head resting on a pillow. In order to overcome the difficulty accruing from the bent and contorted condition of the body and limbs of the deceased, which would not assume a straight position, even in death, a light panel door, taken from an unoccupied room, had been put on top of the defunct and ld down with rocks and a heavy piece of iron, the latter being, apparently, part of a cylinder to a disabled coal-breaker. This, it was hoped, would relax the contracted muscles, and the curved spine and limbs, so that, on the morrow, there would be no trouble in placing the corpse in its casket.
The remainder of the scene was peculiarly striking only to those who had never beheld its counterpart.
The men from Shenandoah, though just as welcome as others, were left, as is the custom, to look out for themselves. They did not uncover their heads, but, squatting on their heels, or any other convenient seat by the wall, proceeded to smoke a pipe with the rest. It was not, and is not to this day, the etiquette of the miners of this nationality to get up from their chairs and offer them to strangers, nor for visitors to remove their caps, or hats, upon entering a neighbor's 219house, no more than it is to knock at the door—excepting it be at night—before opening it.
McKenna looked on in silence, while the mourners proceeded with their wailing, crooning hymns to the dead, and the men helping themselves to lashins of poteen, while the bonneens stuck their faces in at the door and joined in the keene, or caoina-song. The eldest lady of the party raised her hands and cried out:
"Foreer! Foreer! Mo-vrone! Mo-vrone! Ochone! Ochone!"
Then the keene would be raised to a higher pitch, and the wail for the dead resumed, louder and more piercingly mournful than before.
This was kept up until midnight, when an incident occurred which bid fair to terminate this portion of the funeral ceremonies with a fight. One young lad, named Flaherty, a slouchy, shock-headed fellow, as full of mirth and rascality as he well could be, growing weary of the ordinary solemnities, fired by having taken more of the liquor than was needful—and many more were by that time in a similar predicament, from the same cause—determined to vary the monotony somewhat and have some sport, and made his arrangements accordingly, as it turned out, only perceived by the agent, who placed no obstacle in his way. All at once, when the attention of those present was centered upon the drink and the table for tobacco, etc., there was heard an unearthly yell, as of horror, the weights rolled, with the thin, little door, off the corpse, and the vital flame seemed to have returned to the dead, as old Mr. Raines started up, whirled quickly and mechanically about, and fell headlong to the floor.
"There was heard an unearthly yell, as of horror."
Such a mixture of swearing, groaning, shrieking, praying, screaming, and screeching was never before heard in that neighborhood, and in the space of a minute the room was 220nearly vacated, McKenna, the corpse, the candles, and furniture being left sole possessors of the field. Some of the demoralized friends of the deceased did not pause before reaching their own homes, and many not until well outside the house, while a few of the more courageous rallied in the kitchen. Flaherty, whose actions the operative had watched attentively, was among the first to stick his freckled face in at the door and inquire if "anybody were kilt." He found McKenna trying to lift up the corpse, rearrange its disturbed funereal costume, and replace it on the board.
"Come here, ye gorsoon-bo, an' lend a hand to hoist the old man back to his restin'-place!"
The lad at first refusing, the detective had but to hint that the piece of cord, with which Flaherty had cunningly pulled away the door, still remained attached to a hinge, and if he did not carry it off, his trick would be exposed, to bring the young man in to his assistance.
"Lay holt wid me, and I'll say nothing about the string! Refuse, and you'll suffer! D'ye think I didn't hear ye scrame like a young locomotive?"
"Sure, an' I only meant to have a bit of fun!" explained Flaherty; but he entered and helped to replace things. When all was as before—and it took but a few minutes—Flaherty called out to the crowd:
"Come back! Come back! Daddy Raines is all right!"
Then the men and women who had not gone home returned, their eyes sticking out, and each person treading on tip-toe, perhaps expecting to see a banshee, the gentleman in black—or his counterpart in hoof, tail, and horns, with nostrils breathing fire and smoke—and were much amazed to behold everything exactly as arranged before the sudden rising of the dead; the candles burning, the table undisturbed, and old Mr. Raines just as quiet and decent a corpse as any of them had ever helped to wake; while McKenna sat 221silent on his billet, at the side, smoking his pipe as calmly as if nothing out of the ordinary course had transpired.
Young Flaherty kept the secret, through fear of the consequences should he reveal his share in the ghastly joke, and the agent did not care to undeceive the people. Hence the strange occurrence was spoken of for some weeks thereafter, in the vicinity, as about the eighth wonder of the world. McKenna was highly complimented for his nerve by men and women, and Monaghan himself said he "believed that nothing would ever scare that fellow—excepting it might be Auld Nick in person!"
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