San Francisco Examiner Oct. 2, 1898 - How I hanged Mrs. Surratt - Told for the first time by the Hangman

Here is the story of the hanging of Mrs. Surratt, woman conspirator who aided in the plot for the assassination of President Lincoln, told for the first time since the tragic incident in which he took part, by Colonel Chris Rath, the man who, in the discharge of his soldierly duty, hanged her.
Mrs. Surratt was the one woman among the eight conspirators arrested immediately after the assassination of President Lincoln. She, with three others, was hanged. The remaining four were sent to Dry Torugas, and afterwards pardoned. Now all the actors in the historical tragedy are dead except this chief actor, Colonel Rath.
Colonel Chris Rath, after the stirring events of his young days, is passing his peaceful old age in Jackson, Michigan.
He fought with a Michigan regiment through the civil war, taking part in many important battles, and advancing from Second Lieutenant to Colonel.
Colonel Rath has always heretofore declined to tell the story of the execution of the conspirators, and now for the first time writes this dramatic chapter of history for “The Examiner.”

When loyal hearts were rejoicing over the fall of Richmond, the stronghold do the Southern Confederacy, the terrible news of the assassination of President Lincoln was flashed over the wires, carrying with it a weight of gloom and profound sorrow.

At this time I was doing provost duty on the staff of General O.P. Wilcox, in Virginia. Immediately after the death of the martyred President, I was ordered to Washington, where I was appointed provost marshal under General Hartranft.

On reaching the capital I presented myself to the above-named General, who was in command of the troops guarding the District of Columbia penitentiary and the United States arsenal, wherein were confined the persons who conspired to take the life of President Lincoln – Mrs. Mary E. Surratt, Lewis Payne Powell, David E. Herrold and George A. Atzerott.

I was put in charge of the arsenal at Washington, wherein these three men and one woman were hanged on charge of having been implicated in the conspiracy which ended in the taking of a noble life, that of the great commoner, Lincoln.

I have never been in sympathy with those people who profess to believe that Mrs. Surratt was innocent, and I have the conviction of my association with the conspirators to support me. They were all guilty.

After the trial they were allowed to walk about the arsenal yard. None of them knew of the verdict “guilty” returned by the jury. Not one of the four was ever heard to deny his guilt, nor his connection with the conspiracy. They often discussed the testimony given in their hearing and while they disagreed among themselves about minor incidents, such as dates, they did not once utter a word of denial as to the connection with the crime.

Eight persons were held as conspirators. The other four were, Spangler, Dr. Mudd, O’Laughlin and Arnold. I have no doubt that all of them were guilty in a degree, but the others not sentenced to death were clearly not in the plot to murder the President.

As I think of them now I cannot help but admire the courage evinced in the face of great and impending danger. Even after the trial they enjoyed many a game of quoits, and indeed, I pitched a few times with Payne, or Powell. The quartet did not know the outcome of the trial and they did not seem to worry much about the consequences, although they did make casual inquiries one or twice.

That man Powell, alias Payne, was worthy of a better career. His will was indomitable. He was a powerful fellow and no matter what came he would not complain, but smiled in a manner that showed his determined character. Between the wrists of the manacled persons was attached a steel bar about a foot in length. This gave the handcuffed prisoners a little freedom with their hands, and to prevent them from doing injury to their heads, with suicidal intent, a heavy pad was fastened on tem like a cap or hat. It was very, very warm and some of the number complained of the heat. Payne assumed an air of perfect indifferent, although the perspiration trickled down his face and over his chin.

As I now remember Powell never showed the least bit of concern except once during the trial when some witness gave testimony which informed the prisoners that Secretary Seward had not been assassinated. Powell was crestfallen for a time, because, no doubt, his plans had failed in this line.

It is my opinion that Secretary Seward escaped death miraculously. It will be remembered that Payne encountered several people while on the way to Seward’s bedside. One the stairs of the Seward home he encountered young Seward. Payne inflicted a wound upon him and the young man put up a stiff fight. The would-be assassin broke away and succeeded in reaching the bed wherein Secretary Seward lay seriously ill. The maddened man pulled a revolver and pointed it straight at Seward’s head. He pulled the trigger, but the hammer would not answer to the pressure. Then he seized a Bowie-knife he carried and with it he made several serious gashes in the neck of his intended victim. At this point his murderous work was interrupted.

I examined the revolver shortly after and I found that the cylinder-rod was bent, which prevented the heavy cavalry Remington revolver from doing its deathly work.

Payne, or Powell, as you will, insisted that his name was Payne, but it has been proven beyond doubt that his name was Powell and that his early home was in Florida. In an attempt to identify him an old colored woman, said to have nursed him, was brought to the prison. When taken before him she at once recognized him as Powell. Neither tears nor caresses succeeded in getting even a glance of recognition from him. He was stoical in the extreme.

Powell kept his nerve to the last. While he was on the gallows I made an examination of the ropes. I found it necessary to change the noose which had been slipped over his head. As I did so I said: “Powell, I beg your pardon,” and at the same time I told him that the change would make his end come quicker. He complacently rejoined: “All right, Captain, you know best.” And these were the last words he uttered.

Another mistaken idea prevails with some, and that is that Booth escaped and still lives. It is preposterous. Herrold, who was with him during the days following the crime, talked with me regarding their experience, and in my mind there is not a shadow of doubt as to his truthfulness. He told me that Booth met his death as was reported.

Mrs. Surratt was a woman of daring and she displayed remarkable courage. During the fore part of the trial her only daughter, Anna, was held as a witness, but after testifying she was allowed her freedom. One day Miss Anna appeared at the gate with a letter from the presiding judge giving her permission to converse with her mother in the presence of an officer of the arsenal. I was that officer and when the mother met her daughter she was cool and self-possessed. I can see her now, as she looked at that time. Mrs. Surratt was rather comely, of medium build and well dressed. She sat in an arm-char. Miss Anna fell on her bosom and sobbed dreadfully. For ten minutes not a word was spoken. I thought the daughter would go into hysterics. I could not stand the scene longer and I walked to the further side of the court. I am not quite sure that my eyes were dry but I do know that Mrs. Surratt never shed a tear. The mother and daughter were engaged in conversation for about two hours and then Mrs. Surratt called to me, calmly saying that I had better take her daughter away, as she was getting tired. I had not the heart to terminate the interview before.

I conducted Miss Anna to her home in the city, and while en route there I was greatly embarrassed by the attention we attracted, as the girl sobbed continually.

After returning to the arsenal I remarked to General Hartranft about Mrs. Surratt’s stoical manner. He then told me that her daughter had no sooner left her sight than she broke down completely and had to be carried to her cell.

After that Miss Anna came to the arsenal almost daily , and she was with her mother until the day of the execution. I often wished that the daughter would administer something to the mother that would make the execution unnecessary, but they never seemed to anticipate the end.

I do not believe that it was ever intended that Mrs. Surratt should hang. I was informed by Major Eckert, Assistant Secretary of War, two days before the execution, to prepare to hang four persons. He added that in all probability but three would hang. I inferred from that remark that Mrs. Surratt would not be executed.

On the evening of the day before the execution Payne asked me to call upon him in his cell. I did so. During the interview I had with him he expressed sorrow for Mrs. Surratt. He told me that he was largely responsible for her peril, he having been captured in the cellar of her house. He said he would willingly give his life if he had two lives to give, were it possible to aver the punishment sure to be meted out to her. He told me that he had boarded three months at the Surratt home, but he denied that she was implicated in the foul plot. I told Major Eckert of the conversation, and as early as 5 o’clock the next day I was summoned before Secretary Seward and demand was made upon me for the words of confession uttered by Powell. I complied. I knew that Mrs. Surratt’s case was under consideration.

The execution was ordered to take place at 2 o’clock in the afternoon of July 7, 1865, in the presence of General Hancock. He commanded that department. The General failed to appear at the time appointed. Nearly an hour later he came in, somewhat excited. He stepped up to me and said:

“Captain, go on with the execution.”

I hesitated for a moment, thinking of Mrs. Surratt. “Does she hang?” I then inquired. “Yes, sir,” he responded, “nothing can save her now.”

It appears that about 10 o’clock of that memorable day the leading counsel for Mrs. Surratt secured a civil warrant for the arrest of General Hancock, alleging that he illegally held Mrs. Surratt in his possession. Washington was under martial law, and it took but a short time to secure the General’s release. Just what was expected to be gained by this move cannot be conjectured. The arrest caused the delay of the execution, but it took place, and Mrs. Surratt was one of the victims.

I firmly believe that Mrs. Surratt knew of the plot to assassinate the President, for the day preceding the evening of the assassination she went to Surrattville, where she owned a hotel, and paved the way for Booth’s escape by leaving carbines, ammunition, liquors and provisions, with the order to give them to whomever called for them. They were called for by Booth and Herrold.

It has been intimated that I have been reticent regarding my connection with the execution, because I was sorry I had anything to do with it, and regretted that my position was such that I was the right arm of the law. I never shrink from duty. I was heir to that duty and I performed it willingly, just as I would do again if the occasion required it.

I was in more straits, when making the preliminary preparations. I had to build the gallows, provide the rope, fix the nooses and see that the graves were dug. And old man who looked after the carpenter work in the arsenal did not know how to build the scaffold. I could not tell him how. When I would vouchsafe information he would return, ‘Captain, I’ve built all manner of things during the twenty years that I have been in the arsenal, but I can’t make a gallows.’

I prepared plans for him and then he went at the work. I had seen a scaffold at Level Plains, Virginia, which had been used by General Butler to hang two negroes. I was then with General Wilcox in the field. I saw the thing while passing. It so happened that two months later I was ordered to execute a man from the Forty-sixth New York Infantry, for desertion. As timber was scarce I had the Level Plains scaffold hauled to camp. I did not hang the man after all, as the matter was fixed up otherwise.

We finally got the gallows up in the Washington arsenal. The arrangement was twenty feet high, with a six-foot drop. Then I looked up rope. I had been in the navy and knew something about cordage. I wanted something that would not break for you know when a rope breaks at a hanging, the alleged guilty person is considered innocent. I wanted this job to be a good one. I secured a piece of three-quarter-inch Boston hemp, 32-strand rope. I had great faith in the piece and subsequent events proved that my selection was all right. Out of this I made four nooses. I started at the work the night before the execution. I took the rope to my room and made the nooses and hangman’s knots, marking them one, two, three and four, in the order they were to be used. The one for Mrs. Surratt I made last. I became tired before I had finished and as I really did not expect that she would hang I rather slighted the knot, putting only five turns to it. You know the regulation hangman’s knot has seven turns to it; so Mrs. Surratt was hanged with a five-turn knot, but that does not seem to have affected the result.

The graves were close to and in front of the gallows. The men on duty in the arsenal yard were at my disposal, and I ordered them to dig the graves. They started the job all right, but quit before they had progressed far. They were superstitious. The deeper they dug the more they objected. I allowed them to quit the work, and then I fell back upon soldiers.

That hanging gave me a whole lot of worry. I had read somewhere that when a person was hung the tongue of the victim would protrude from the mouth. I disliked to think of the four tongues staring me in the face, so I secured a shelter tent form the storehouse and made hoods that would completely conceal the faces of the victims. Those hoods were unlike contrivances used these days. They were white and very amateurish, but they served their purpose. I tore strips of the tent and bandaged the legs and arms of the four prisoners, so that they would do no unnecessary kicking and swinging when the trap was sprung. Mrs. Surratt and Payne were precipitated into eternity from one gallows and Atzerott and Herrold from the other. The party marched to the scaffolds, single file, each accompanied by a soldier. I detailed a lieutenant-colonel to escort Mrs. Surratt, as I desired to show her unusual courtesy. On the gallows each had a spiritual advisor. A dead silence prevailed. Not one of the four weakened. The hoods were adjusted, I examined the ropes, bade each good-by and gave the signal to spring the drop. The four bodies fell simultaneously. They jerked on the ropes, sprung back and then settled down dangling from the ends of the cordage. Death was practically instantaneous in each instance. The bodies were at once buried, and, to avoid any mistake relative to future recognition, if the bodies were removed, I wrote the names on slips of paper and sealed them in bottles, which were placed in the respective graves by Colonel Richard Watts now living at Adrian, Mich.

A few years later all the bodies were taken away by friends and given private burial, and the arsenal was leveled.

There was only on really untoward incident in the tragic event. I removed the noose from Mrs. Surratt’s neck, and I was much hurt to see that the rope had cut deep into the delicate skin of her neck when she was dropped. That made a deep impression on my mind. Criminal though she was, I carried her to her grave as tenderly as though she were an innocent babe.

Not until the remaining prisoners were given their daily exercise in the yard the following day did they know that the four arch-conspirators had me their death. The gallows were still standing and were painful evidence of the doings of the preceding day. As Edward Spangler stood in front of the apparatus he took a stately pose, presumably a habit learned from Booth, and in a serious tone he said:

“Captain, I have aged ten years in the past few days. I have heard the work of this scaffold building, and I knew there was some hanging to be done; and I heard the drops fall. I expected every moment that you would send for the second batch!”

He showed that his sufferings had been terrible.

O’Laughlin and Arnold appreciated their positions, but Dr. Mudd bore the same sneering look he had maintained throughout. He did not appear in the last abashed. Four days later these four prisoners, condemned to life imprisonment, were sent to the Dry Tortugas off the Florida coast – the island which has figured so conspicuously in the late war. The men were pardoned later. Dr. Mudd overcame his bitterness, and when the yellow fever raged in the South he did noble work. Since that time all have died.

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