John Wilkes Booth's One Mad Act
By VELMA
DANIELS
Local columnist
Sunday, June 3, 2012 at 8:46 a.m.
"This One Mad Act." Izola Forrester. Copyright
1937. Colonial Press
John Wilkes Booth, assassin of President Abraham
Lincoln, was not killed, his body dismembered at Garret Farm, but lived on many
years in disguise and isolation outside of Napa Valley, Calif., and in Paris,
according to his granddaughter's book, "This One Mad Act."
A small basement bookstore in the French Quarter of
New Orleans, used bookstores and discarded stacks have been my haunts for rare,
old books for as long as I can remember. Therefore, when my cousin walked in
this week with a well-preserved hardback cover of "the true and confirmed" facts
about John Wilkes Booth as told by his granddaughter, I felt like it was
Christmas all over again. A patient of my cousin has left "his pick" of his
library to him, and this was one of the treasures.
Now what makes it even more interesting is that
this account of the assassination of Lincoln comes on the heels of Bill
O'Reilly's "Killing Lincoln." Seventy-five years later, we are again hearing the
account from a family member who saw her grandmother, mother, uncles and aunts
hide in anonymity fearing for their lives because of the connection with
Booth.
This is a fascinating story about a man who could
have been one of the greatest actors of the time. But instead, he became an
infamous assassin, and not because he harbored hate for Lincoln, nor did he plan
to kill him. It was to be only a kidnapping.
This one act of madness was the real tragedy of the
Civil War.
Was there a single emotion that inflamed Booth? Or
had the hatred brought on by the war set his theatrical personality on fire to
get Lincoln with his many members of the Knights of the Golden
Circle?
Velma Daniels is a Winter Haven author and book
reviewer. Her "BookWorm" column appears occasionally on Sundays in the Accent
section of the News Chief.
The Knights of the Golden Circle Research and
Historical Archives
The killing of Lincoln at the Ford Theatre was
April 14, 1865. Fifteen minutes after the murder, the wires were severed
entirely around the city, beginning the greatest manhunt in history. It was
stated in the newspapers that more than 12,000 men searched through southern
Maryland alone. The New York Times gave spur to the hunt by offering a reward of
$20,000 for the capture of Booth. The government followed with a reward of
$100,000 for the assassins of President Lincoln.
Every moment of Booth's time during the preceding
hours when he went alone to the theater have been chronicled many times and
especially by the author of this book.
There are the words of E.A. Emerson, a fellow
actor: "I knew John Wilkes Booth well, having played with him in dozens of
cities throughout the East and Middle West. He was kind-hearted and no cleverer
gentleman ever lived. Everybody loved him on the stage ※ although he was
excitable and eccentric."
Readers, remember, the war was over. The members of
the Knights of the Golden Circle who were to aid Booth in the kidnapping had
vanished, deciding there was no use in getting Lincoln now. It was
over.
Emerson continues: "The day before President
Lincoln was shot, I was standing in front of Ford's Theatre, when John Wilkes
Booth walked up to me, in an agitated state of mind. He grabbed the cane out of
my hands, and said, 'Ned, did you hear what that old scoundrel (Lincoln) did the
other day?' I asked what in the world he was talking about. 'Why the scoundrel,
Lincoln, went into Jefferson Davis' home and threw his long legs over the arm of
a chair, and squirted tobacco juice all over the place. Somebody ought to kill
him.'"
Emerson, realizing he was over-the-top angry,
replied, "'I'm going to quit you.' With that he pulled my cane down and broke it
in four places. I still have the pieces."
That very night, Booth's vision of the annihilation
of Lincoln came to reality. He became possessed that he would become a hero by
killing Lincoln for what he symbolized to the South.
Booth's frenzied, misguided patriotism led him to
this act of madness. Was the story of Lincoln going to Davis' house a gossipy
rumor?
Booth, a man with a mad plan, a misguided path, who
could have been one of the nation's greatest actors, chose to become hated by
all men for his horrific act. Booth was a young, handsome man with twisted mind.
His granddaughter spent her life following up clues, substantiating facts in the
case, running down rumors.
It's a book that should go into re-print for the
reader to decide. Facts remain, Southerners grew bitter in defeat, Northerners
grew revengeful. The word from General Sherman to President Lincoln on Dec. 21
that read "General Sherman makes the American people a Christmas present of the
city of Savannah with 150 heavy guns and 25,000 bales of cotton," only added to
the hatred brewing by both sides.
John Wilkes Booth, a man with a brilliant future, a
family of young children, a devoted wife, gave it all away for one sick, mad
moment.
Velma Daniels is a Winter Haven author and book
reviewer. Her "BookWorm" column appears occasionally on Sundays in the Accent
section of the News Chief.