PROBING MYSTERY OF THE DEATH OF GENERAL MEAGHER

# PROBING MYSTERY OF THE DEATH OF GENERAL MEAGHER *The Anaconda Standard, Sunday, July 6, 1913, p. 32 (date and page from the Newspapers.com caption; the clipping itself shows neither). Read from the page image by claude-sonnet-5-5; proofed by claude-opus-5-5, 4 Oct 2026. Printed spellings are kept as printed, including "piscatoral", "semed", "asuring", "repacing", "brawney", "Swerd" and "Meaghe-". Letters or words too damaged to be sure of are marked [ ] with a question mark; in particular the fifth letter of the general's middle name is a closed round glyph, read here as "c" (so "Francis"), though it could be an "o".* ANOTHER chapter of reading matter has been added to the recently revived Meagher mystery, in a story written by Joseph I. C. Clarke, president of the American Irish Historical society, in the New York Sun. The story goes thus: Mystery has hung over the death of Gen. Thomas Fran[c?]is Meagher for nearly half a century. Secretary and acting governor of the infant territory of Montana, the gallant soldier who has led the Irish brigade through the bloodiest battles of the civil war with commanding bravery at Antietam, Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville; superb orator of the fine old ornate kind, standing well up beside the best of them; Irish patriot of the Young Ireland militant type of 1848, who did not shrink from prison or the gallows when he fell under the ban of English law, taking his place on the convict ship (in his case a brig of war) as cheerfully as he would at a yachting party; suffering for three years the miseries of a ticket-of-leave man in the wilderness of Tasmania, escaping dramatically as did John Boyle O'Reilly a quarter of a century later and landing in New York to be hailed as a leader with wild acclaim by his delighted fellow countrymen—here was an engaging, romantic figure, gifted, brilliant, fitted for the finer civilization, energetically essaying the government of perhaps the rockiest piece of territory in the world with a sparse population of rough-and-tumble goldseekers, cattlemen, horse thieves, gamblers, traders and fighting Indian tribes. He was in his forty-fourth year, with every promise in life before him, when all at once he disappeared from human sight from an old river steamboat tied up at Fort Benton on the upper branches of the Missouri river on the night of July 1, 1867. From such reports and inquiries as were made at the time, it seemed simple enough. He had stumbled when alone off the upper deck where it was unprotected by guards and had drowned with a long piercing cry heard from the darkness in the river that was sweeping by with a flow of nine or ten miles an hour. He was never seen again. Many constructions were put upon that stumble and fall, some charitable but happily false. In the general acceptance it was labeled accident, misadventure, fatality, but until a couple of weeks ago no one hinted of crime in connection with the dire event. Meagher met all the opposition that developed cheerfully or coolly. He was no tenderfoot, with his years of campaigning behind him. He was a soldier, but no assassin, and scorned all the base ways of killing, yet evidence develops that he was aware of his enemies and their truculence, as will be seen later. At any rate, he was most concerned in the early summer of 1867 with the Indian difficulty, the growing audacity of the Piegan incursions on white settlements, the insolence of the Sioux along the Missouri river and widely separated Indian ambushes and night attacks all over the territory. The roads were unsafe. He started to raise a regiment of militia and did not find it difficult to enlist enough men. Helena, the capital, near the great falls of the Missouri, was his official residence, and there he lived with his young wife, who had been a Miss Townsend of New York and who was a handsome, cultivated lady. He had arranged for a supply of arms and munitions for his regiment and expected they would be sent up the river to Fort Benton, the head of navigation. Accordingly he started from Helena to examine the military stores and superintend their forwarding—a matter of great importance. On his way to Fort Benton he was halted at Sun river by an attack of dysentery, entailing a delay of six days. The weather was extremely hot, and he suffered a good deal from want of medical care. When he improved he pushed forward on horseback for the last 30 miles of the journey and arrived at the miserable settlement fatigued, weak and in pain. He was not a man to repine, but he was disappointed to find the rifles he was seeking were at a fort 120 miles further down the river. He went to the trading post to rest. So far all the accounts agree. Meagher's habits were at times convivial after the manner of the army and the frontier, but on that afternoon no one had raised the question of his having exceeded, and the evidence is as to his abstinence. He left his escort and companions and entered the store. There he sat some time. That night he died. ### NEW MURDER STORY. Here we must note the new murder stories. About 10 days ago a man rejoicing in the fine frontier names of Pat Miller, alias Frank Diamond, "allowing" that he was about to die, "confessed" that General Meagher did not die by accident but that he, at the instigation of the vigilantes, had stolen at night on board the old steamboat, had murdered General Meagher and thrown his body into the river, then plunged in himself and swam ashore, for all of which he had received $8,000 from Alexander Potter, whoever he may have been. But Pat Miller, alias Frank Diamond, did not die; and now he recants and says it was all a dream. Was it? No sooner, however, does Pat, alias Frank, recover, than David M. Billingsley of Butte, formerly a vigilante, who is known as Dave Mack—doubtless a pleasing contraction of the first two of his formidable names—avers that Meagher was kidnaped from the river boat and hanged by members of that organization, the body secretly buried and the secret kept in its grave up to the time of his telling. Certainly the story is untrue in its details. Old frontiersmen vary their narratives of things 46 years back. They mix one murder with another, and otherwise depart from truth; what residuum of crime, foul and dastardly may be in his story may yet be unraveled. *[Illustration, printed across the lower parts of columns 2 and 3, between "Dave Mack—doubt-" and "less a pleasing contraction": a regimental flag, banners lettered "69TH REGIMENT IRISH BRIGADE". Caption: FLAG OF MEAGHER'S IRISH BRIGADE.]* Now, while the commonly accepted story has been told in outline above, let us get at what authentic detail we may. In 1870 Capt. William F. Lyons, also had served bravely in the Irish brigade with Meagher and then was a member of the editorial staff of the New York Herald, a gentle, lovable man, published his "Life of Brigadier General Meagher," telling sketchily the story of his soldier-friend and filling it out with many of his salient speeches. In the body of the book the accepted story is told of Meaghers' death, but in the appendix appears a letter from the pilot of the river boat which varies the narratives importantly. He had heard that Captain Lyons was seeking material for the "life," and so he put pen to paper incidentally giving an unconscious picture of himself, which enables us to see him as a brawney, genial, good-hearted man of the grave exterior of river pilots in general. He was John T. Doran of 404 North Fourth street, St. Louis, Mo., and he writes under date of Dec. 16, 1869—two and a half years after the event which must have seared itself into his mind. "I will endeavor," he says, "to communicate without elaboration the circumstances of General Meagher's death, believing that I am conversant with all the facts, as I was with him constantly on the day of the sad occurrence and was the last man that spoke to him on earth." ### DORAN'S STORY. He relates how, in the spring of 1866, he was pilot on the steamer Ontario, bound for Fort Benton and had the opportunity of showing some courtesy to Mrs. Meagher, who was "on her way to join her husband in the mountain country." The general had shown his appreciation of this in many ways. He continues: "The following year I became pilot of the steamer G. A. Thompson, which left St. Louis in the early part of April and arrived at Fort Benton June 29, 1867. On our arrival in port we found there the steamers Guidon and Amelia Poe, about 100 yards apart from each other, and we anchored between the two an equal distance from each. Shortly after landing I went up to the upper boat (Amelia Poe) and while fishing from her lower deck, I saw a troop of about 12 horsemen riding into town. I afterwards discovered that they were General Meagher and his staff. Wearying soon of the piscatoral sport I went to the provision store of I. G. Baker and in the back room of the establishment I discovered General Meagher reading a paper. Looking up and immediately recognizing me, he greeted me most warmly, and both seating ourselves we engaged in a long conversation. "He informed me that on his ride into Benton he was very sick for six days—that the object of his visit was to procure arms and equipments for a regiment he had already raised to fight against the Indians, and, learning that the required articles were not there, but at Camp Cook, 120 miles below, he expressed his determination to proceed to the aforesaid place the next day. He also spoke in the most tender and affectionate terms of his wife, residing at Helena, saying that in their mountain home they were as happy as two thrushes in a bush. Finally, dinner time coming on and learning that he was stopping at no particular place, I invited him down to the boat to dine, an invitation which he accepted. "After dinner we walked through the town and, meeting numerous friends, we were invited on several occasions to partake of the hospitalities always urgently extended to strangers in this section of the country, and in each instance the general politely but firmly refused to accede to their request, saying that his experience at Sun River had given him a distaste for such amusement. Thus, in walking and talking, we spent the afternoon, and toward evening wended our way to the boat (Thompson) to take tea. "The sun had [just?] began to go down as we took o[u?]r chairs out on the guards of the boat, and as the weather was very pleasant, we lit our cigars and commenced reading. I lent the general a book I had brought from the states; it was 'The Collegians,' by Gerald Griffin. He semed to peruse it with great attention for half an hour, when, suddenly closing it, he turned to me and said, very excitedly, 'Johnny, they threatened my life in that town! As I passed I heard some men say, "There he goes."' "I endeavored to persuade him that his fears were utterly groundless, as, indeed, they were, for there was not one man in the territory who did not love him. He then asked me if I was armed, and on my asuring him that I was he desired to see my pistols. I immediately produced my two navy revolvers (every one is armed in that country), and he, seeing that they were capped and loaded, handed them back to me. (During his conflict with the politicians Meagher had been frequently threatened.—Captain Lyon's note). Perceiving that he was wearied and nervous, I persuaded him to retire to his berth. By this time it was pitch dark, the hour being 9.30. He begged me not to leave him, but on my assuring him that it would be only for a few moments and that I would return and occupy the upper berth, he retired. "I fixed the clothes about him, locked the door of the stateroom and went down to the lower deck. Now the lock on the door leading into the cabin was very defective, but I did not mind it much, as I intended to return without delay. I had been on the lower deck but a short time when I heard a splash in the dark waters below, immediately followed by the cry of 'Man overboard!' I rushed toward the water, and the engineer saluted me with 'Johnny, it's your friend.' "To have jumped in would not only have been useless but almost certain death. as the river there was about 12 feet deep and with a current rushing at the rate of nine miles an hour; and, furthermore it was so dark that no object could be discerned. "Accompanied by several others I ran down on the shore toward the Guidon, which lay 50 yards below, in the meantime hearing two agonizing cries from the man, the first one very short, the last prolonged and of the most heartrending description. We rushed into the wheel of the steamer and lowered ourselves hip deep in the water, clinging with our hands to the wheel, while others threw out ropes and boards, but all of no avail. The next day cannons were fired, the river dragged and the shores and islands searched, but all to no purpose. "The river below is dotted with innumerable small islands of different and various areas, the activity of hostile Indians preventing us from exploring the ones further down; and no doubt the body of the gallant but unfortunate general was washed ashore on one of them, but though I wrote descriptive letters to all the forts below, I never heard any tidings of it." ### THE SENTRY'S TESTIMONY. From another and later life of General Meagher, by Michael Cavanagh of Washington, D. C., (a former official of Fenian times in New York), published at Worcester, Mass., in 1892, comes another circumstantial story worthy of note. It is in the form of a paper by Capt. Patrick W. Condon of Fenian fame, and recites an experience a year after Meagher's death. In the fall of 1868 Captain Condon went to take charge of the stonework construction for the bridge over the Missouri at Omaha. There he made the acquaintance of the soldier who had been a sentry aboard the old steamboat from which General Meaghe- went to his death. Unfortunately the soldier's name is not given. The account says: "The plain facts are these: General Meagher had been ailing some three days with a severe attack of summer complaint. He struggled to the log-house trading post, where he was accommodated with a seat in a back room by the proprietor. He remained here for several hours resting his head on his hands placed on a small table in front of him. * * The proprietor, learning his distress, urged him to take the only remedy in his power to offer, a glass of blackberry wine. This was repeated three times during his long and weakening agony at the trading post, after which toward nightfall he was conducted to the boat and retired to his stateroom, or rather the pilot's stateroom, which was kindly given up to him. "The sentry's account (sworn to) was substantially as follows: 'While on duty during the night pacing the deck I heard a noise sternward. On looking in that direction I saw somebod[y?] moving in white clothing (underclothes) toward the left rear of the stern, where I knew the temporary accommodation place of the vessel was. Of course I about-faced and marched the other way. * * * and repacing my round about midnight I heard a shout then a splash—that was all. I shouted, "Man overboard!" In a moment the deck was alive, floating life buoys were flung out—boats and lights on the water. The recent Indian depredations had caused us to be fully on the alert and prepared for anything sudden, but all to no purpose.'" In collecting these accounts one item should be added from Captain Lyon's book. "Tired as he was, he undertook to write to some friends before retiring, one of them at least, Richard O'Gorman, received the epistle addressed to him." ### MURDER OR ACCIDENT? Here, then, we have in three accounts from different sources the story of that last day of Meagher on earth. Pilot Doran's is the best in its continuity, and he scouts the idea of enemies of General Meagher, but note the significance of the italicized sentences in the letter. The presence of the soldier on sentry duty, the clear narrative of his giving the alarm, the pilot's hearing the cry of "man overboard," the vain rush to help all stamp as untrue the story of Dave Mack with its kidnaping and hanging, but was it impossible that Diamond or some other had secreted himself and actually seized the general unawares as he came from the cabin and hurled him overboard? Little need for murdering in advance a man who could be cast in the blackness of night into the Missouri river as it races past Fort Benton. If murder was done it was done suddenly, and the murderer in the confusion that immediately followed might well have mingled with the crowd and walked ashore. It is most unlike[l?]y that he followed his victim into the river and lived to swim out. Yet Pilot Doran's statement of Meagher's belief in his danger has a certain element of corroboration of the story of murder, and those who seek truth, and those who honor the memory of "Meagher of the Swerd" should follow up the clues given by these confessors of murder, whether done in person or by deputy.