10 Riley Bio

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT
by Thomas Earl Williams with primary illustrations by Katherine Kuonen and the great assistance of Robert Tinsley with Riley artifacts, Copyright, 1997, Thomas Earl Williams

Riley's "minstrelsy" or showmanship may have been an offshoot of Doc McCrillus's, or at least substantially influenced by him. People would come to listen and be entertained by the patient medicine man and his young men consorts. At most these audiences were a "testing ground" for the young James Whitcomb Riley to learn his craft of entertaining and amusing audiences. There is a tendency to think this shallow and not necessarily significant. That conclusion would be dead wrong.

There is not just a "give" but rather a "give and take" in the performing arts. James Whitcomb Riley participated in the life of these audiences around the brightly painted patent medicine wagon. The crowds became a part of the entertainer who would write down his poetry from time to time. What the crowds found "right" in Riley's poetry became Riley's subject matter. Since establishing homes was the main thrust of the small town populaces Riley entertained, ideas of home abound in Riley's poetry.

Riley's trip with Doc McCrillus was a start on a journey which would take him through his life and even take his life at the end. It was a tragic quest which was buried in humor and hopeful sentiment. It was a journey to find love and to try to be loved in the life of his Hoosier people. Its meaning would boil down to a concept of home. Unfortunately, the meaning was one which proved a truce by which American homelife could become established and normalized and permit the thriving of others, but not for himself. A lonely death in a small upper apartment of an Indianapolis house would be James Whitcomb Riley's lot.

In the Biographical Edition of his poetry, Riley described his employment with Doc McCrillus, the traveling miracle medicine man with whom Riley escaped Greenfield:

"My duty was the manipulation of two blackboards swung at the sides of the wagon during our street lecture and concert. These boards were alternately embellished with colored drawings illustrative of the manifold virtues of the nostrum vended. Sometimes, I assisted the musical olio with dialect recitations and character sketches from the back steps of the wagon."

In describing his getaway from the memories of this death with a medicine man selling his cure-all, Riley said rode out of town with that glittering cavalcade," the poet said, "without saying good-bye to anyone, and though my patron was not a diplomaed doctor, as I found out, he was a man

of excellent habits and the whole company was made up of good, straight, jolly, chirping vagabonds like myself." Riley fitted easily into this roving company as a black board and colored chalk artist, illustrating the virtues of the medicine vended, supplemented with a repertoire of songs, jokes and original recitations. After a wonderful tour, the poet returned to Greenfield with pockets as empty as they were when he left.

"... I have been advertising for the Farmer's Grocery for three or four days and am feeling pretty sore, physically - but quite the contrary mentally for I have now removed a load of about $6 from my mind and so ‑

John, I have an offer from a young advertiser, who was attracted by my card in the post-office, to travel and do Medicine advertising and such, and I believe I will go. I can be at home as often as you. I guess: so we won't be broken badly. I think it will be the best thing I could do: I'll be in the open air all the time, and 1 do like advertising - especially where I have a chance of making $5 and $6 a day. I send you a photograph of my card. -How do you like? - I received a complimentary squib in both our worthy papers. The young man i am going with is a good business agent and sharp as the proverbial tack. He is not much on the letter, hut knows how to get work and handle "expenses" and all that. He is entirely stranger to me - but he is from Anderson, and refers me to dozens of the best men the town contains. We will do general advertising: he has had experience and knows all about it - I will go as partner or not at all. If we succeed it won't be a great while before I show advertisers what advertising is like the card I send you for instance - I can design them and we can have them engraved and furnish cards novel, new and unique for so much a thous - look out!

Then on July 17th 1872, he wrote his brother that he was about to start on a week's trip to neighboring towns.

When Riley and McClanahan traveled by themselves to paint, they entered a town to great theatrical display. Riley said, "On entering a town, McClanahan went first to the livery stable and with unfailing instinct picked out the best horses. It was not long before we were in the good graces of the livery-man and had as our reward the best team in the barn free of charge for the afternoon. Then the two made a dashing appearance into town to talk to the leading merchants proposing to advertise them on every barn fence and boulder on each of the roads leading into town. Riley remembered saying

"these signs will stand as long as the fence or barn or stone remains...Why, you spend that much each year on newspaper advertising and, what is more, your newspaper allows your competitor to advertise in the very next column in a more conspicuous place. He can't do that on the road, because you'll have every fence and barn, and if you don't take the contract he will, you bet.

Their business card proposed "all styles of signs and painted advertisements and original designs in fancy cards and bulletins and banner signs of all kinds and ends is in rhyme.

"We strive in each particular to give our fellow man entire Satisfaction. Riley and McClanahan

Life on the road was not easy. Riley did not conserve what money he did make. In the winter of 1872-3, Riley spent the winter in Marion. He recalls, "1 didn't have enough covers on my bed, only a counterpane. (Biographer's note: coverlet). I laid newspapers in between that and the sheet to keep out the cold. Oh, I was living in an old rat-trap and didn't see where the money for my Saturday's board was coming from. And I was homesick. One day a letter came from my small brother 'Hum,' a boy letter about "Nuisance," our dog, who had died. When I got that broken-hearted letter I simply crawled away to my room, threw myself on the bed and cried." This was the winter when "Dot Leedle Boy of Mine," was written. Riley said, "Writing verse was the only fun I had."

We know that Riley left Greenfield to join Doc McCrillus and therafter to travel with Jim McClanahan painting at just about the time the temperance movement was strengthening and young men Riley's age were being asked to sign Murphy pledges not to drink alcoholic beverages. Near this time of Riley's period of greatest inebriations after his mother's death, the Indiana Women's Christian Temperance Union was just getting organized. When Mrs. Zerelda Wallace, its first President, and stepmother of General Lew Wallace, author of BEN HUR, took her first temperance petition before the Indiana legislature, she was informed that, since her petition was from women who couldn't vote, it "amounted to no more than the tracks of so many mice.^- This aroused Mrs. Wallace to become a public speaker throughout the state on temperance and women's vote issues. Other women joined in the fight. Soon women were lining up, two abreast, in great processions after church services to enter the taverns of Hoosier towns to ask saloon keepers to close down and seek the reformation of the drinkers inside. Tavern keepers could do little about these invasions. They could not

throw out the ladies who would yell, "Unhand me, Sir!" or remind them that "No one but a coward touches a woman save in kindness." No lady could be removed from the bar door when they chose to sing temperance songs outside. It is said that huge and brutal looking barkeeps quailed to the pure womanhood while their potential patrons left or walked away without entering their usual haunts.

The resistance of the saloon keepers of the Hoosier Deutsch - those of Riley's stock - was greater than the others. Sometimes a thick accented German wife of a barkeep fetched her small children and fed them beer in full sight of the temperance women. Many times those of Hoosier Deutsch heritage were subject to derision for special sinfulness and foreign barbarism. It was more common for the Deutsch saloon owners to resist. They drove the women out of their establishments by opening doors and windows in the winter, throwing pepper on the stoves to cause them to sneeze and cry, flooding the floor with filthy water, putting out the fires in their stoves or just plain plugging the stovepipe to smoke them out. Occasionally, drinkers would throw tobacco juicy sawdust from the bar floors at the ladies. If fights did break out, few ladies feared being convicted of disorderly conduct or such charges.

A poem by Elizabeth T. Wills of the Wabash, Indiana, Women's Christian Temperance Union describes the temperance activity of the time. It should be remembered that Riley and his friends were what these ladies would call "rummies." The antagonistic but pious mood toward alcoholics in Indiana is expressed in this poem.

And mourned o'er the wreckage the rum fiend had made It was rum, rum with its withering curse,

That's what started the Temperance Crusade. Rum had robbed us of husband, had robbed us of sons And of all, which the heart holds most dear So we women went out, in this battle for home

To form resolutions, to talk, sing and pray. Just women in daytime, men kept out of sight

But they joined in our mass-meetings held every night. Then while all the church bells were ringing at once

We caused much excitement as we marched two abreast Through the crowded and awe-stricken street But with heads quite erect and courage unchecked Did we march with the snow on our feet. We marched right in to the open saloon And begged of the men to desist But some grew angry and cursed us And came at us with shaking fist; And some of them told us we'd better go home

I imagine we felt a little like men When they finally tree their 'coons; And we couldn't help but sorter wear A half-way satisfied grin

Then while at this stage in the conflict After first excitement was through, we organized the little band

And the ball has kept rolling and rolling with its purity banner unfurled, Till now our white-ribbon army Is teaching and belting the world. So pin on the white ribbon, sisters, And we will keep plugging away.

I suppose to some extent the young Riley was "put to flight" by the temperance ladies and their talk about such young men as Riley who drank too much.

Riley did not consider his alcoholism as some disease or unconscious decision. Riley wanted to indulge in alcohol and become intoxicated as a young man following the death of his mother. He did not want any temperance movement person interfering for the escape he found in drinking alcoholic beverages.

This admission is made in his autobiographical poem, "The Flying Islands of the Night" where Jucklet explains this to Crestillomeem, Riley's alcoholism. The "wife" and "love" is alcohol.

He loved his wife and her a-lone; She reaped the harvest he had sown; She ate the meat, he picked the bone.

(Then pantomime as though pulling at bell-rope - singing in pent, explosive utterance)

1. The 1898 edition of "The Flying Islands" contains a score for this song. Riley set the song to music for this edition.

Nellie Cooley (Dwainie) tried on many occasions to set Riley free from his alcoholism, none with any success during her lifetime. Only after her death did she come to him in the delirious account chronicled in "The Flying Islands of the Night," and succeed in this effort.

Riley not only began his life of alcoholism after his mother's death, but he also most earnestly began his writing of poetry to express his feelings. Riley began his nocturnal life. Riley's poems were mostly written at night because he once said, "Then angels listen to the whisper of his pencil as I write." This habit came early and from the days he painted signs. Often too

intoxicated to return home, he slept many places. One of them was at the station of the night watchman of the Greenfield Bank. The night watchman was happy for the company because he could sleep at night knowing Riley was awake by a dim lamp with a pencil and tablet in hand.

Most of his early life, he recalled hearing a clock strike four. How did Riley consider his life?

There can be no more discordant event than the death of a caregiving mother. There is no place to go for reassurance and to avoid anxiety more satisfying than to one's mother. One does not feel unworthy when a mother gives acceptance. Parental love is the great shield of apprehensiveness.

Riley's friends shared his general love of the drunken life. Nov. 26, 1873, apparently written while Mack (James McClanahan) was drunk. The letter starts out, "Answer soon for God's sake. Don't make fun of me. This is written on the letterhead of Harvin and Booker, Frankfort. -0 dam the pin I can't write fast enough. Damd if I ever felt good in my life. Good God I'm off my feet. Would to God that I could see you NOW. You ask me why don't I write. That's damn fine talk ain't it...Oh, my God, but I do feel Hob. Hob hell. That don't express it. Can you read this?...." McClanahan is writing Riley in desperation. The woman he is living with is apparently giving him Hell. McClanahan says he has given people the impression the woman he is living with and he are married but they aren't.

From Riley's South Bend life comes the recollection of Frank Murphy. Just across from Blowneys was a saloon and Riley was said to dearly love to have a glass of beer there with innumerable friends, Bill Allen, Al Stockford, Frank Murphy. On one occasion, when Riley and Bill Allen. a drinking buddy of Riley's, were painting the outside of the old St. Joseph hotel, the scaffolding they were standing on fell and both of them were hurt, but not seriously. Later, when Riley was famous and was lecturing in South Bend, Bill Allen went to see Riley at his hotel and Riley refused to see him. In Riley's "Pipes o' Pan at Zekesbury," Riley mentioned many of his South Bend friends and in particular "the Wild Irishman," Frank Murphy, a genial, jovial Irishman, loud of speech, warm in friendship and who could improvise poetry and enjoy a glass of whisky or any other concoction accompanied with plenty of hilarity and good fellowship, which was exactly to young

Riley's temperamental liking and as a result the two were good friends til death took them. Riley called him Tommy in his sketch and says he sings at one of their convivial gatherings in the Andrews saloon:

Whenever Murphy went to Indianapolis, he would look Riley up and they would have a good time recalling the days when Riley was a sign painter in South Bend. Maj. Blowney did not mind Riley writing verses and gave him a blank book to write them in.

It is to this early period of Riley's wandering life following the death of his mother, that Riley refers in his autobiographical poem when he portrays Crestillomeem (his alcoholism) and his minstrelsy play-self (Jucklet) in happy companionship and shared delight.

Though my proud brow bear the blaze of a crown, Lo, at thy feet must its glory bow down.

That from the dust thou mayest lift me to shine Heaven'd in thy heart's rapture, 0 Prince divine! -Queen of thy love ever,

0 Prince divine!

Semblance of Jucklet (Sings)

Crestillomeem! Crestillomeem!

Our life shall flow as a musical stream' -

Windingly - placidly on it shall wend,

Marged with mazhorra-bloom banks without end -Word-birds shall call thee and dreamily scream, "Where dost thou cruise, `Meema - Crestillomeem?

Whither away, `Meema? -Crestillomeem!

I. Jucklet, Riley's pranking and jocular self, can express himself along quite well in intoxicated state.

Once Riley suspended himself by a rope from a bridge and painted a sign on the bottom of the bridge inverting the letters so the approaching traffic would see the advertising on the surface of the water. He painted many barns on his travels in the years of his early twenties.

When he returned home to Greenfield occasionally he did some odd jobs for Greenfield folk. He did cards for War Barnett and went to a Greeley meeting and "ogled some terribly damp Goddesses of Liberty, etc."

not go speak to him although they stood close to each other after the performance. "I wanted to speak to him for he had been a great inspiration to me, but some fear within restrained me."

1874 was another year of restless wandering about Indiana with Jim McClanahan and friends. Riley's family were not supportive. They wished him settled down. They did not like his wanderings around with his carefree drinking friends. A letter Riley sent to his brother John, dated Nov. 16, 1874, states:

"...In reply to a question of yours-McClanahan is not with me now, nor has‑
n't been for months, and in lieu of myself -as per lady-book-statement, -is
traveling in the Vinegar Recipe line and making big money. He controls a
party of 13 agents who sell recipes while he is employed selling Territory.
I have been working for McCrillus, principally, since my return to
Anderson, but have surprised the folks occasionally with a sign: I am at
work now on an advertising card that will be superior! I won't enter in to a
description of it - wait till it's done and I'll show it to you - it will be my
masterpiece as I have -mixed my colors with brains." Oh, it's artistic - not
letters in gold alone, but the "female form divine" graces the center of the
design, while the letters around her twine and glimmer and gleam and shine

The picture from the poetry and the situation of the departure with the good Doc's patent medicine show is of a young man, Riley, simply on the run from the death of his mother steadily seeking the companionship of Crestillomeem but holding his own in the sign painting and medicine show business.

Perhaps his relationship with his married friend, Nellie Cooley back in Greenfield further encouraged both his departures and exacerbated alcohol use. Upon his returns to Greenfield he inevitably sought Nellie's company and this was not a situation Riley's family was very happy about either. Nellie was, after all, a married woman. It was not a good sign that she was the woman he was paying attention to. For now we simply repeat the last stanza of this poem:

Was Nellie discouraging Riley's attentions as well as encouraging them driving Riley crazy?

Life with Doc McCrillus was a pleasant and diverting life. To gain the flavor of the Doc McCrillus patent medicine enterprise, it may be helpful to consider the product Riley was selling. One of the testimonials to Doc McCrillus's patent medicine has come down to us from two Anderson, Indiana men who otherwise are unknown to history, E. Sipe and Sam Pence, self-styled as "Horse Dealers." They witness as follows:

"We speak whereof we have seen and know about Dr. S.B. McCrillus' European Balsam. We believe it to be a valuable medicine in the cure of horse disease -epizootic -as a disinfectant, and also a great relief to the horse when sick by burning it on coals in the stable and letting the horses inhale the Balsam." (Found in loose folders on Riley in the Anderson City Library).

This testimonial would be rather "backhand" since Doc McCrillus's miracle cures were intended for humans.

As you would look at the darkly ominous bottle of the good doctor's chief product, you would immediately know it was something very special. A trumpeting baby elephant was on the label on whose back was a huge leather satchel as big as the elephant containing the word's "McCrillus' European

The Balsam's label contained other information in different sized print: "The Acknowledged Excelsior System Renovator. Cures WEAK BACK. It Cures Bronchitis, Palpitation of the Heart, Laryngitis, Sore Throat, Phthisic(sic), Weak Breast, Coughs and Colds, Female Complaints, Liver Complains, Dyspepsia, Chronic Rheumatism, Etc." In much smaller print

along the sides of the label are the statements, "This Balsam, composed exclusively of vegetable matter, has attained for itself an almost cosmopolitan celebrity. In its successful treatment of all diseases of a nervous and inflammatory nature, and for a weak state of the system. It heals the lungs, strengthens the stomach, rectifies its disorders and regulates the bowels. It allays inflammation externally and internally. Dissolves the secretions of the urinary glands, and cures grave and WEAKNESS OF THE KIDNEYS."

Just dreaming up such a mess of quasi-medical gobbledegook such as this must have taken the good Doc much time. Incidentally, the good Dr. McCrillus's death certificate on file with the Madison Co. Health Department shows his cause of death as "acute pneumonitis" which we tend to call pneumonia. Did the doctor not take his own cure? Lung ailments were supposed to be overcome by his European Balsam. Or could it have been that he wished his own remedy worked a little better as he was slipping away?

In any case, the summers in which James Whitcomb Riley left home to join Doc McCrillus and paint and travel were pleasant and fun-filled interludes and adventures Riley and McClanahan were said to have performed many acts together from the show wagon. Riley always took his guitar and banjo with him, and much entertainment was verbalized with recitation of entertaining stories. When Riley was on the road with Doc, he would interject his philosophy of medicine and the virtues of his cures and then sometimes the three would sing as a trio. Eventually, James Whitcomb Riley is said to have become very popular with demands for encores for his recitations and even singing.

After these surrealistic summer experiences, James Whitcomb Riley returned with the Doc to Anderson to idle away time. He lived either with Doc or in boarding houses in Anderson or nearby towns where he went to paint signs or houses or with mom McClanahan in Anderson. Everywhere he went, Riley spent time on street corners talking to the people of Anderson or wherever he was and writing seriously, filling the bureau drawers of his board rooms and trunks with papers until they were stuffed.

1874 was the year McGeecy, editor of the Danbury, Connecticut, NEWS, accepted Riley's poetry encouraging him greatly. This was also the year Riley worked out the elocution and performance points for "The Bear Story" and "Tradin' Joe." Riley read these in occasional school houses and churches.

These early years of young manhood also saw Riley produce much whimsical doggerel verse for advertising including this "advertisement" for his friend the good Doc McCrillus:

"Wherever blooms of health are blown, McCrillus' Remedies are known; Wherever happy lives are found You'll find his medicines around,

Send blessings down to me and you; And holds its throne from year to year In every household far and near, His purifier for the blood

Has earned a name fair and good As ever glistened on the page Of any annals of the age.

There is both prose and poetry written reflecting Riley's wandering life with Crestillomeem. It is mostly poetry of the 1870's, Riley's period of great production in which no topic of his life was "off limits."

We have the poet who would one day - after he comes to kenoticism - be known as "The Children's Poet" taking the classic "Little Red Riding

Hood," and turning it into the story as told by an alcoholic - maybe Riley's friend "Old Sport."

"Wonst they was a leetle-teeny dirt, an' she was named Red Riding Hood, toz her ma maked her a leetle red cloak 'at torned up over her head - an' it was all thist one piece of red cardnal like the dreat long stockin's 'at the

storekeeper's dot. 0! it was the nicest cloak in this town! An' - an' - an' so one day her ma she put it on her. It was Sunday. coz the cloak was too nice to wear thist all the time. An' so her ma she put it on her, an' told her not to dit no dirt on it; an' nen she dot out her little basket 'at ole K'is b'inged her, an' filled it full o' whole lots o' good fings t'eat, an' told her to take 'em to her dran'ma,

An' so little Red Riding Hood she promised to be tareful, an' tossed her heart she wouldn't spill'em

for six-five-ten-two hundred bushel dollars. An' nen she kissed her ma dood bye, an' went a skippin off through the dreat big woods to her dran'ma's - no she didn't do a skippin' nedver coz that 'ud spill the dood fings. She thist went a walkin'along like a little lady, she did - as slow

An' so she was a goin' along an' along through the dreat big woods - toz her dran'ma lived a way fur off from her ma's house, an' you had to do through the dreat big woods to dit there.

An' little Red Riding Hood had mostest fun when she'd do there - a listenin' to the purty bards, an' puffin the purty flowers at drowed around the stumps - an' catchin' butterflies an' drasshoppers, an' stickin' pins through 'em-I thist 'said' that! coz she was dood. She'd this catch 'em, an' leave their wings on 'em thist like they was, an' let 'em do adin, toz she was a "boss girl" - my pa said she was!

An' so she was a doin' along an' doin' along, an' purty soon they was a old wicked wolf jumped out; an' he wanted to eat her up, but there was a big man a choppin' wood wite

those there, an' you could hear him, an' so th' old wolf was afeared to tackle her this then - feared the man ud kill him, you know; an' so he 'tended like he was a dood friends to her, an' he says, "Dood morning, little Red Riding Hood!" this like that. An' nen little Red Riding Hood she says. "dood morning." this as kind - like her ma learnt her - coz she didn't know th' old wolf wanted t'eat her up.

Nen little Red Riding Hood says, "I'm doin' to my dran'ma's -coz my ma said I might." An' nen she told him that th' old wolf skipped out an' dot to her dran'ma's first, an' she didn't know he did.

Nen when th' old wolf dot to her dran'ma's he knocked at the door. An' nen th' old wolf he knocked adin, an' little Red Riding Hood's dran'ma she says, "Who's there?"

Nen th' old wolf 'tended like he was little Red Riding Hood, you know, an' so he says, "W'y, it's me, dran'ma; I'm little Red Riding Hood, an' I'm tome to see you!"

Nen little Red Riding Hood's dran'ma she says, "Thist walk in, nen, an' make yousef at home. toz I'm dot the

an' hopped up on th' bed an' et old Miss Ridinghood up 'fore she could take her specs off, he did! Nen th' old wolf put

on her nightcap an' tovered up in bed like she was, you know, an' purty soon her tome little Red Riding Hood, an' she knocked at the door. Nen th' old wolf says, "Who's there?" thist like he was her dran'ma, you know, an' she thought he was, an' so she says, "W'y its me, dran'ma; I'm little Red Riding Hood, an' I'm tome to see you."

Nen th' old wolf says "Thist walk in an' make yousef at home, toz I dot the `raigy an' tovered up in bed, an' I tan't open the door for you."

An' so little Red Riding Hood she opened the door an' towed in: an' the old wolf told her to set down her basket an' take off her fings an' tome an' set on the bed wif her.

An' little Red Riding Hood she didn't know it was th'
old wolf, an' so she set down her basket an' tooked off her

fings, an' dot a chair an' thumbed up on the bed wif her an' she thought th' old wolf had more whiskers'n her dran'ma, an' dreat bigger eyes too, an' she was skeered, an' so she says: "Oh, dran'ma, what big eyes you dot!"

Nen th' old wolf says: "It's thist big thataway toz I smell the dood fings you bringed in the basket."

An' nen little Red Riding Hood she says: "0! dran'ma, what long, sharp teeth you dot."

thataway t'eat you up wif!" an' nen he made a jump at her, an' she hollered an' the big man that was a choppin' wood he tomed in there wif his axe, an' he split th' old wolf's brains out from ear to ear, an' killed him so quick it made his head swim, an' little Red Riding Hood wasn't hurt at all, an' the big man tooked her home, an' her ma was so dlad she div'd him all the dood fings in the basket an' told him to call adin - an - an- that's all of it."

Alcoholism rendered Riley like an "adjustable lunatic." He must have feared the consequences of public intoxication displays greatly after public intoxication arrest. The main character in his story, "An Adjustable Lunatic," explains why. He says, "I don't make a business of insanity, or I wouldn't be running at large here on the streets of the city." He continues at a later point, "...I'm glad to assure you of the fact that I'm as harmless as a baby-butterfly. Nobody knows I'm crazy, nobody ever dreams of such a thing - and why? -Because the faculty is adjustable, don't you see, and self-controlling. I never allow it to interfere with business matters, and only let it on at leisure intervals for the amusement it affords me in the pleasurable break it makes in the monotony of a matter-of-fact existence. I'm off duty to-day - in fact, I've been off duty fir a week; or, to be franker still, I lost my situation ten days ago, and I've been humoring this propensity in the meanwhile..."

The lamp gleams dim i' the odorous gloom, And the stars at the casement leak long gleams

The night-winds ooze o'er my dusk-drowned face In a dewy flood that ebbs and flows,

For my soul floats on the waves that break In crests of song on the shoreless deep Where I neither sleep nor wake.

That there are pieces describing Riley's intoxicated situation is not to say they were not transforming pieces. Such poetry challenge thought patterns. But deep down they touch on Riley's greatest fear. This was the fear that he was the psychotically wounded Edgar Allan Poe in reincarnation. This fear was grounded in the birth of James Whitcomb Riley at precisely the morning in October, 1849, when the tormented Edgar Allan Poe died in

Baltimore in delirium tremens. It was as if Riley took up the air of life that Poe expired. Did he also inherit his alcoholism?

At some point it seems, Riley, similarly demonically possessed in alcoholism as Poe took his former incarnation's "Scenes from 'Politian" and was in the process of completing them when a strange thing happened-the recollection of the recently deceased Nellie Cooley entered the strange world of Riley's demonic delirium while Riley was writing "The Flying Islands of the Night." Nellie Cooley. we remember, was the young married woman and friend whose encouragement had kept Riley from total breakdown after his mother's death until her husband moved her away to Illinois and away from Riley in 1875 when both left Greenfield after a black lynching there.

combined with mastery of verse. Riley devoted many hours to studying Poe's verse and read "The Rationale of Verse," Poe's essay on the subject, thoroughly. The memory of Nellie kept him from Poe's thematics.

Riley did not just study Poe's manner, he also wrote Poe-like poems. His "A Dream of Long Ago," was given the metre and cadence of Poe's "The Raven," with a slightly different verse structure. The sounds of Poe were easily mirrored with the liquid and musical sounds of the alphabet.

Crestillomeem was a great admirer of Poe. In a letter of March 4, 1883 written to Dr. James Newton Matthews, Riley said:

"...In the Poe sonnets, the work is splendid - masterly in parts - only the theme is joyless ‑

and that hurt the success of such an effort, however deserving in all other qualities. It is what hurt Poe, and will always drape his

memory with gloomy speculations and unsatisfying contemplations. He was a marvelous intellect perhaps as much estranged from himself as from all of his kind. Anyway, he seems, always, to me, unhappy, and his influence always cheerless. If I ever get to Heaven, I will doubtless love him better there where all 'will be unriddled.' All melancholy themes are pets of mine - positively; but I am growing to avoid them as much as possible for I am more and more satisfied of their hurtfulness every new one I indulge."

Edgar Allan Poe. 1809-1949. Riley was born on the same Sunday morning that Poe died of delirium tremens in 13aItimore, Maryland. Riley sometimes feared he was a reincarnation of Poe probably because they shared alcoholism and Poe's "hoodoos."

"Poe was hoodooed all his life. I took up the hoodoo where he left off," Riley once said. We know Riley studied Poe because of the famous "Leonainie" incident in Riley's life. Riley wrote the poem in the style of Poe and perpetrated the hoax in concert with a friend who was the editor of the Kokomo Dispatch upon the representation that it was a newly discovered manuscript of Edgar Allan Poe published in the Kokomo DISPATCH on August 12, 1877.

How Riley described writinc.! "Leonainie": "I studied Poe's method. He seemed to have a theory, rather misty to be sure, about the use of m's and n's and mellifluous vowels and sonorous words. I remember that I was a long time in evolving the name of 'Leonainie,' but at length the verses were finished and ready for trial. A friend, the editor of the Kokomo Dispatch, undertook the launching of the hoax in his paper; he did this with great editorial gusto, while, at the same time, I attacked the authenticity of the poem in the Democrat. That diverted all possible suspicion from me. the hoax succeeded far too well, for what had started as a boyish prank, became a literary discussion nation-wide, and the necessary expose had to be made. I was appalled by the result. The press assailed me furiously, and even my own paper dismissed me because I had given the 'discovery' to a rival."

How much Riley knew about the orphaned, tragic Edgar Allan Poe is not known. Poe's death in delirium tremens was widely reported. Discovered by a printer named Walker in a Baltimore tavern called Gunner's Hall on an Election Day for members of Congress, Poe was in great distress. Taken to Baltimore's Washington Medical College in stupor, he was admitted at five in the afternoon. He remained in stupor until three o'clock the next morning when he entered a stage of busy delirium, talking constantly and deliriously addressing spectral and imaginary objects on the walls. The next day Poe revived somewhat but was basically incoherent before lapsing into violent delirium resisting the efforts of nurses to keep him in bed. His doctor, a man named Dr. John J. Moran, mentions him raving for nearly a day and calling out an unrecognizable name until three o'clock the next morning when Doctor Moran noted: "quietly moving his head he said 'Lord help my poor soul' and expired." Poe died a drunk. Dr. Moran attributed his death to delirium tremens on the basis of Poe's profuse perspiration, trembling and hallucinations. Others have since sought to find less disgraceful causes of death such as "exposure." Poe's great admirer, the French poet Charles Baudelaire, called the death "suicide" which is probably much closer to the truth.

Riley studied Poe extensively. He thought of himself as Poe at times. His forgery of Poe's name to the poem, "Leonainie," may not have even seemed like forgery. Riley's "Tale of a Spider" in which a spider takes on the life of a doomed communicant and "An Adjustable Lunatic" of a maniacal disappearing and suicidal stranger seem clearly composed under Poe's gothic influence. It is not clear if Riley wrote poetry while intoxicated as Poe did. One remembers that "The Bells" was written by an Edgar Allan Poe who did not even remember he wrote it the next morning. Riley's "The Flying Islands of the Night" was, we know, written by an alcoholic seeking to understand himself. Some of it bears the same throbbings and excesses of "intoxicatese" writing that Poe's does. One thing seems clear. If Riley had not written his "The Flying Islands of the Night" and gained through it a self-understanding and feeling of great encouragement to himself from the beyond from his dead mother and dead Nellie Cooley one could speculate he might have died as Poe did. The strange death-birth connection between Poe and Riley contributed to Riley's unease about the fate for which he was destined. The poetry and alcoholic life-style of Edgar Allan Poe were definite dynamics in Riley's self-perception. One does not fear being a reincarnation of someone without great tremor. Probably for this reason, Riley avoided admitting he was born when he was. The comparisons of alcoholism by two kindred poets was already too vivid in Riley's mind.

There was in fact great talk of Riley being Poe's reincarnation as in an article in the Chicago TRIBUNE of December 16, 1894 under the title: "Plagiarism or Reincarnation?" The many points of similarity of the writing of Riley and Poe brought forth the author of this article, George Harper, to find evidence for the Hindoo theory of transmigration of souls, or reincarnation. When Riley as Crestillomeem wrote, Poe was affixed in his mind.

In the meantime, Riley slipped further and further into alcoholism. Riley, the alcoholic, was considered a no-good in Greenfield during much of his early life, but he was not reviled.

To understand this requires a brief review of the temperance movement in Indiana of the time.

Whiskey was easily availability in the corn growing regions of Indiana where Riley grew up. Whiskey was a corn product after all. Liquor traffic was always a source of revenue to Hancock County from the founding of the county. The first meeting of the county's government, through its board of commissioners, was held April 7, 1828 and the first license to sell liquor was granted by them less than a month later. As the years went along, whisky

was sold not just at saloons but also in grocery stores. Every home had supplies. Children drank whisky and it was a popular medicine used for colds or pain reduction.

In the 1860's movements to control alcoholism, then an epidemic, began. Citizens began to remonstrate against the granting of licenses to sell whiskey. Reuben Riley and Joseph B. Atkison were usually the two Greenfield lawyers who represented the remonstrators.

As Riley entered manhood, the temperance battle against alcohol use reached the level of a crusade, just as James Whitcomb Riley, was firmly established as an alcoholic.

A Ladies' Temperance Alliance was organized at Greenfield's Methodist Episcopal church in 1874. The goal was to obtain pledges of Hancock County men not to drink intoxicating liquors. Other meetings were held in area churches and soon the ladies began visiting liquor establishments causing many of them to close or else begin serving sodas. Lists were made of signatories of the Murphy pledge and circulated. Applicants for liquor licenses were hounded into withdrawing them. Prosecutions were sought of intoxicated persons or any proprietor who served liquor to an intoxicated person. As stated elsewhere, Riley himself was prosecuted for intoxication. Candidates for office were screened to ensure they were not subject to intoxication. The local bar was invited to a meeting and the demand was made that none represent alcoholic interests or the intoxicated. Lawyers were urged to sign a pledge not to but the majority of the members refused. Mass meetings were organized and among the local speakers against intoxicants was Reuben Riley, the poet's father. Richman described one of March 7, 1874 at the Greenfield Christian Church. Later in the 1870's Red Ribbon Societies were organized in which persons who had signed the "pledge" wore red ribbons. Another temperance group wore "blue ribbons." A county convention was organized of the Christian Temperance Union in 1879. Temperance picnics and the like were sponsored. A "secret" organization also spread devoted to terrorist tactics for the cause bragging of "cells'in every township. The only saloon in New Palestine was burned to the ground during this period by such a secret "cell."

It was in the mood of a county with such temperance activity that James
Whitcomb Riley was often found drunk in different places around the city.
Reuben Riley, the poet's father, and remonstration attorney, refused to
assist his son under any such circumstances. Nor would the "Captain" pay
fines or bonds when the poet was arrested and charged with public intoxi‑

cations during his youth. The Riley family was greatly ashamed of the poet. Stories are told of Riley sneaking into the home, led by the hand up to his bedroom to sleep off a drunk, by his little sister, Mary, fifteen years his junior. The two, Mary, who also suffered from alcoholism later in life, as well as the brother between them, Hum, often relied upon each other in a world hostile to them because of their propensity to liquor overuse.

As the early 70's proceeded, the temperance movement gained more and more force. Riley's father, Reuben Riley, became a leader of it further distancing himself from Riley because Riley was, after all, "wedded to Crestillomeem."

Greenfield saw a great temperance movement arise in 1874. As a part of this movement, mass meetings of citizens were called. One such meeting was sponsored by the Temperance Alliance, a ladies' organization, held in the Methodist Episcopal Church on Sunday evening, March 8, 1874. The church was filled to overflowing with hundreds of people and many of the lawyers of the town were present. At one point in the meeting, the ladies distributed the usual temperance pledges for the attendees to sign. In addition, the ladies had a special pledge they wished the attorneys to sign. This pledge contained an agreement not to defend any person charged with a violation of the liquor laws. When the majority of the lawyers refused to sign the pledge, the ladies called for them to explain themselves. The first to speak was the lawyer, Ephraim Marsh who stated "All criminals were entitled to a fair and impartial trial, and to be heard in person or by counsel, This being the case, I as a lawyer cannot consent to place myself in a position not to accept employment in any case at bar if I desire to do so." Another lawyer, Charles G. Offutt, responded to the call to sign the pledge saying,

declined to sign it and I still decline. So far as I know but two members of the bar have signed it. I hold that an attorney has the right to engage in the defense of any man, woman, or child charged with a crime without being liable to just censure from any quarter. The fundamental law of the land declares that in all criminal prosecutions the accused shall have the right to be heard by himself and counsel, and that the presumption of innocence is in his favor. Sir, because a man is charged with a violation of law, be it the "Baxter bill" or any other, it doesn't necessarily follow that he is guilty, not by any means."

As Offutt continued his reasons for not signing the pledge, his words reveal the mild attitude against alcoholics such as Riley which then prevailed in Greenfield.

"As far as the temperance question is concerned, I think it is admitted by all candid men that temperance is right and intemperance wrong. It is not necessary that I should stand here and declaim against the evils of intemperance. All men everywhere admit it to be the great foe of mankind. The veriest wretch that ever drank destruction to his own soul will tell you that his course is not to be approved or followed. No man can engage in the use of intoxicating liquor to an excess, and not finally destroy

his constitution. It shatters the physical man and lays the mind in ruins, and whatever others may say, I know that no man in this audience would more heartily rejoice over the success of any plan that would stay the fearful tide of intemperance sweeping over the land, than I. And, sir, I think this is the most favorable time for the ladies to accomplish great good. No political party, as my friend, Captain Ogg, has said, is opposing their movements. Good people everywhere are wishing them success, and if they go about their work in the spirit of Christianity, love and kindness their efforts may be crowned with success. It won't do to proscribe men or treat them harshly for their views, but reason with them, treat them kindly, convince them that it is to their interests to be sober and upright, that the good of society demands that they should give up a business which yields only poverty, disgrace and crime, and, my word for it, your success will be great."

It is said that this lawyer's speech was roundly applauded at the ladies temperance meeting in this year before the community consented to other mob action, the breaking in of the Hancock County Jail and the lynching of the black taken out from there at the county fairgrounds so soon to occur. Despite the castigation and shame cast on alcoholics such as Riley, they were not to be the subject of violent personal attacks. The bars they frequented were. The sellers of alcoholic products were. The talk was much against them. None were, however, lynched. One wonders where Messers Marsh and Offutt were when the black man, William Kemmer, was lynched the next year with their lofty beliefs in rights to trial, an attorney, a presumption of innocence and a semblance of a right to defense.

One does not imagine Riley's first great encounter with Crestillomeem as involving more than "bouts" with depression ever more serious but only occasional lapses into intoxications. This was the period after his mother's

Crestillomeem was under wraps after Riley returned to Greenfield in his mid-twenties. She had not succeeded in keeping him from marginal employments, pleasant associations with friends and moments of inspiration with Nellie in the Millikan-Cooley household. Riley was surviving and maturing as a man. Could he even consider permanently staying at home in Greenfield? Perhaps he might conform to his father's wishes and even become a lawyer?

These thoughts were no doubt in his mind as the year 1875 dawned. Riley was back in town from his McCrillus

medicine show trips and from his Kemmer to his reward. Illustration from ^—the Flying

Early 1875 was the year Riley's poem "A Dreamer" appeared in
HEARTH AND HOME MAGAZINE. Ik Marvel, its Editor, not only
accepted it but sent Riley a check of the first money he received for a poem.
Riley did not remember how much it was he spent it so fast. In a letter dated
April "foolest," 1875, Riley wrote his brother John, "...I have had and still
have plenty to do in signwork -I've got old Greenfield spangled off like a
circus clown... I am
improved to some
extent in a moral par‑
ticular. I am a con‑
firmed Sunday-school
goer - Yes! did
Secretary business for
two Sundays, and
blackboard lesson ‑
You just ought to see
me clothe a black‑
board in artistic rai‑
ment and yaller chalk -

At an unkown spot in this clup of trees and wild brush in the middle of a field lie the remains of William Kemmer, lynched by a mob of masked vigilantes buried with the noose still around his neck. The spbt was a "pauper cemetery" mainly for the indigent living in a county home or "Infirmary" across the National Road from the site.

Last Sunday's was as good as a magic-lantern show to the children. The trustees talk of an admission fee. Well, here's the "best of the wine"! I yesterday received a letter, with check enclosed, paying for poem published in Hearth & Home of April 10. I want you to secure for me a few extras as they cannot be had here. Write to me and "told me all about it." Jim."

After this fact, he says, "I thought my fortune made. Almost immediately I sent off another contribution, whereupon to my dismay, came this reply 'The management has decided to discontinue the publication and hopes that you will find a market for your worthy work elsewhere."

As to Riley's Sunday School Secretary tenure there is a story that survives. When no one else was at Riley's Methodist Church to take minutes of the meetings, Riley was asked to do so. The result was so flowery with such items as "Mrs. Pinkney wore a large pink feather-trimmed hat," that he was never again asked to do such duties.

One can now see James Whitcomb Riley on his way into his father's legal profession. Reuben was the trainer of many young lawyers. The list of those entered on the roll of the Hancock County Bar Association on the

Motion of Reuben Riley Riley's last sign, "A.). Banks." painted for a downtown Greenfield Building is very extensive. at the time of his writing of "An Old Sweetheart of Mind" in 1875. (From the Barton Rees Pogue glass positive collection.)

schools were not established in Indiana at this time. Barristers became lawyers by "reading" with older lawyers such as Reuben Riley. Now James Whitcomb Riley had finally begun the process. Often, when James Whitcomb Riley was expected to be reading Blackstone, his book was laid down while his pen was busy at poetry. One of the poems written in his father's law office during this period of apprenticeship was the famous "An Old Sweetheart of Mine" which would one day become the most commonly known poem in America.

try a program of readings and instrumental music outside Greenfield with his friend, John Moore. These evening engagements were a break from "reading the law." Riley and Moore chose Kokomo as a location for an evening entertainment. John borrowed the Prince Albert coat needed for wardrobe from the store of his father. The first night's show was totally disastrous and such a crushing failure financially that the two were unable to pay for their overnight lodging. The bill was paid for by painting the next clay. This truncated tour is mentioned in the Hancock DEMOCRAT. Riley was friendly with its editor who reported in its June 24th issue, "Every place they have visited they met with great success." Ha, ha!

Riley was on the verge of becoming a county seat lawyer. The days of apprenticeship continued on until one of the most telling details of the history of the poet's hometown occurred, the hanging of William Kemmer.

This was a lynching of a black man and it shook Riley down to the soul. All of the country had been shocked that such events were occuring in the North. That such lynchings were going on in the South was less of a surprise. In fact there were twenty such lynchings of black men without trial in Indiana between 1865 and 1903 according to HANDBOOK ON INDIANA HISTORY, page 91, Edited by Donald Carmony. None of the others however was so close to Riley as this one. I believe he must have witnessed it or at least some of it.

The lynching of William Kemmer in Greenfield caused Riley to become aware that social institutions matter hugely. This revolution in the thought of James Whitcomb Riley caused him to leave Greenfield again for a "spell" of wandering. He took off to join a "second" traveling "miracle medicine show." He apparently was not about to settle down in a place of "mob rule" and "lynching." He took off on another spur of the moment decision as he had left on the first shortly after history

ation from this event in kenotic ideas and taking refuge bly observed. this photo of withinits hope of salvation in a "humble" redeeming a similar vigilante lynch‑

arising from his sight of it from this black lynching in his hometown. Riley also nurtured a hatred for all intolerance as a result of this event. Riley was nudged more and more toward love for the humble people he had come to know in his travels with Crestillomeem. Riley wrote in the poem "To Uncle Remus,

Although the life of James Whitcomb Riley was tumultuous in many respects, the one great event of his life which fueled his flight into kenotic poetry was an event never mentioned in all of his poetry except his cryptic autobiographical poem, "The Flying Islands of the Night." Riley simply stayed away from controversy in order to secure for himself a standing on which to make kenotic points for a public needing encouragement to live peacefully and "neighborly" with each other. The following is an excerpt from his autobiographical poem:

And, it is grimly guessed of those who thus For such a term bemoan an absent love.

And so fall upwise, they must needs fall on - And on and on - and on - and on - and on! Ha! ha!

Jucklet, or James Whitcomb Riley who survives to tell his story in minstrelsy, tells us of the metaphoric happening of a lynching incident in his hometown which could not have been otherwise described.

The vagabond who "strangely went" as the result of this hanging was none other than himself, James Whitcomb Riley. He left Greenfield, Indiana, his hometown under the circumstance of a shocking hanging. The lynching is a ghost of the American Reconstruction period following the American Civil War. It was a typical example of not just racism but also the social Darwinist impulse. A black man was simply being selected out a little quicker than evolution would inevitably have provided anyway. Riley was sickened and ran.

The Kemmer hanging was on the front page of the Indianapolis JOURNAL of Monday morning, June 28, 1875 under the huge headline, "Judge Lynch," A first sub-headline read, "Hanging of a Negro Ravisher by an Armed Mob.", with a second reading "Swift Punishment Meted Out to an Inhuman Fiend - Greenfield in a State of Wild Excitement." The article was attributed to information from an unnamed "Special Correspondent." Was it Riley? Later, the Journal was pressed for who this "correspondent" was but the newspaper never revealed the informer's name. The account differs from the way the event was reported in Greenfield by the Hancock DEMOCRAT and is quoted.

This account reads in part, "...While Mr. Vaughn, a farmer, was at work in the fields, about a half a mile away, a Negro entered the house and deliberately outraged the person of the wife, who was at that time lying sick and defenseless on her bed, with no companion but her two-year old son. The burly brute entering the house, proceeded without a moment's hesitation to

the commission of the awful crime, and escaped from the house just in time to avoid the husband, who had been summoned by his little son, who had ran toward him and attracted his attention....(Kemmer) was overtaken in Rush County, and for the time being confined in the Rushville jail, but threats of lynching having been freely indulged in, he was removed to the a jail in Greenfield, the crime having been perpetrated within the confines of Hancock County. The

people were in a state of wild excitement and demanded that an indictment be returned against the brute at once, that his trial and punishment might not be delayed an instant. But the authorities in

The location at which Riley may have observed the lynching of Kemmer. This their wisdom decided field was the location of the "Floral Hall" and the Hancock County Agricultural to wait till the indigna- Fairgrounds where Kemmer was lynched in 1875.

tion had subsided somewhat and as a consequence measures were taken with the utmost secrecy and dispatch to execute summary vengeance upon the prisoner. The quiet community was thoroughly aroused and a look of deep determination was on every face. Everybody knew something was on foot, but none could say who were engaged in it. The husband of the outraged woman was in a perfect frenzy that nothing could appease and every where he met with the spontaneous sympathy of good and true citizens who could only be worked up the commission of an unlawful act by some such an emergency as this, Mrs. Vaughn was lying at the very point of death from the effects of her injuries, and it was determined to rid the world of a monster ere his victim passed to the other shore. Accordingly on Friday night, a band of one hundred and sixty disguised men met at an appointed rendezvous between Rushville and Greenfield and without a sound marched toward the latter place, passing on their way long enough to take a vote as to whether their intended victim should be hung, burned or cut to pieces. With grim ferocity, forty men balloted for the cutting process and thirty-two for the burning, but eighty-eight votes were cast for the less brutal yet equally certain means of transit out of the world. A squad of seventy remained on the outskirts to act as a reserve in case their services were needed while the remainder of the battalion moved silently in the direction of jail where‑

A detail of twenty of the vigilants noiselessly effected entrance by means of an aperture in one of the windows and made their way to the sheriff's quarters, where a demand was made upon him for the keys to Kemmer's cell. The plucky office refused to deliver them but he was quickly overpowered and the keys were taken from him but as the invaders were to them they were of little value, and crowbar agency was resorted to with eminent success. Kemmer remained in his bed quietly until his door was opened when he sprang to his feet and with a heavy club, commend a furious battle for his life, striking right and left with destruction. The leader, a large and powerfully built man, received a terrific blow on the head but in a trice his assailant was disarmed, bloodily beaten into submission, bound and taken to a wagon and hastily carted to the fair-ground, the place designed for his execution. In "Floral Hall" a rude gallows was improvised by means of a rafter and noose, a very simple yet effective contrivance. The wagon containing Kemmer was then hacked up under the rafter, the noose adjusted about his neck, and the other end securely fastened to an immovable object.

The wretch was then given a chance to say something for himself, but his sole response to an inquiry from the chief was "Men, you are doing wrong."

"If that's all you have to say," was the angry reply, "the quicker you die the better," and at the word the wagon was drawn from under the ravisher's feet and he was left to die of strangulation, the shock not having been sufficient to break his neck. The rope was a new one and, with the heavy weight attached, stretched until Kemmer's great feet touched the earth but the ground was scooped out by a dozen willing hands in less time than it takes to tell it.

In twenty minutes the man was pronounced dead, and shortly thereafter the vigilants under orders from the chief, took the back track, but not until the score or so of citizens standing about had been ordered to go home and make no attempt to follow or ascertain their identity. The body was allowed to hang till morning, and when it was cut down the following verdict written on an envelope was found pinned to his back:

"It is the verdict of 160 men from Hancock, Shelby and Rush, that his life is inadequate to meet the demands of justice.

The Coroner empanneled a jury Saturday and after hearing the evidence of all persons who claimed to have knowledge of the affair, returned a verdict in accordance with the facts as above narrated.

months and gained an unenviable reputation. Together with a woman whom he claimed was his sister, he occupied a tenement owned by John E. Foundray in the northwestern part of the city. On the night previous to the day he committed the crime for which he was hung, he stole a horse from Mr. Springer, an employee of Daggett & Co., confectioners, and left the city."

The Hancock DEMOCRAT in Greenfield, William Mitchell, Editor, also carried a report of the incident in its issue of July 1, 1875:

"In the Democrat of last week, we published an account of the ravishing of Mrs. Vaughn, wife of Wm. N. Vaughn, of Blue River township, by a negro man named William Kemmer, and his subsequent arrest in Rush county, and legal transfer to this county. It is now our duty t record the summary death at the hands of a large number of outraged_bcfrunknown citizens of Rush, Shelby and Hancock on Saturday morning last, and we will endeavor to discharge that duty without unnecessary varnish or sensational literature, keeping as near the facts of the summary proceeding as possible, considering the secrecy of the transaction.

At about 12:30 A.M. on Saturday morning, June 26, 1875, a party of armed and masked men, numbering about 125, quietly and orderly entered our town from the East and without unnecessary preliminaries surrounded the new jail building. An entrance from the front and south doors was soon and easily effected by probably twenty-five of the party. Once in the building, the next step was to get the keys of the jail house. Search was made for the room in which Mr. Thomas, the Sheriff and jailor, was sleeping. This was soon found by the answer of Mr. Thomas to the demand for admission, as his voice was probably well known. To this demand Mr. Thomas positively and persistently refused. Seeing that he could not be roused to depart from a sworn duty, the necessary means were soon brought to bear to open the door by force. This was easily done, as it was a pine door, and the splinters flew in every direction in the room. Mr. Thomas was soon face to face with an armed, masked, and of course, unknown lot of men, who resolutely and determinedly demanded the keys of the jail and to whose demand Thomas as resolutely refused to surrender the keys. He was informed that they did not desire to injure him or the' building, and that they did not want to be injured themselves; but that they would have the keys or they would go through the walls of the jail They wanted the incarcerated negro, had

come for him and would have him at all hazards. Thomas still refused and stood in silence before his armed and powerful opponents. Seeing that he would not surrender, he was caught and forced back against the wall where he was soon relieved of the coveted keys. Once in their possession, the object of the mission seemed half accomplished; but they did not know they had the right keys, and if so, they were uncertain how to use them. Thomas was then asked if they were the right keys, but he said not a word, but stood silent and mute as a marble statue. The next move was to get him to go down and open the doors leading to the object of their midnight mission; but this was stoutly refused. Then he was taken up by four of the most stalwart men in the room and carried head first down the front stairs. Thomas now began to feel his oats, and said it was useless to try to force him to do that which a plain violation of his official duty, and he emphasized it by saying that he would be d-d if he would. Satisfied that they were losing time on Thomas, they sent him back to his room, saying that they would endeavor to open the fail themselves. There are two separate locks to the doors one of which opens out and other in. A little practice soon resulted in the opening of these doors. They were now in the main part of the jail, but there was another bolt to throw before the prisoner could be reached, and this they did not at first understand, for they forced by main strength and crowbars the upper fastening of the cell door. When this bolt was broken off, the lower bolt not being damaged, it looks as if some one had pulled the lever below that operates the bolt above. While the men were working at the door, our information is, but we have no idea that it is mere guess work, that the negro lay still on his bed on the lower bunk. When the cell door was thrown back, the same authority says, and equally creditable, that the negro sprang forward and leveled two of his assailants. It is probably that by this time he was in the hall aiming for the door on the west of the cells, which leads to the lower floor of the jail. At this point it is very probable the negro was knocked senseless by some of the men in which condition he was securely hound, taken below and placed in a spring wagon standing at the south door of the jail. It is not true that the negro had a bar of iron in his cell. The bar of iron alluded to and found in the negro's cell the next morning, was evidently taken there by one of the masked me, as, after the negro was locked up for the night, it was standing outside the jail part of the building. The negro was a very powerful and physically courageous man, and with such an implement for defense, he would have bloody work for at least some of the men. The statement of its presence in the cell is merely sensation and

coined in the brain of some reporter to lengthen out his piece to regular city limits. But we must return to our narrative.

In possession of the subject of their search, and seeing him securely tied and lying in the bottom of the wagon and surrounded by a few of their trusty friends, the masked men gave vent to their feelings by repeated shouts of apparent joy. The leader of their party then gave the word to move on as they had entered the town in regular order and in true military style. The order was speedily and quietly executed and the march of death was commenced for this victim of a hellish and unbridled lust. Around the jail building the solemn procession moved toward Main street and approaching which street the negro began to mourn and make piteous appeals to his Master above whose laws he had so cruelly and wantonly violated. Turning into Main street, the procession moved silently toward the east, followed by a rear guard to keep off all intruders. Reaching the toll-house, the procession turned to the south when the Fair Grounds was soon reached, into which the procession moved with unerring precision toward the south end of the old Floral Hall, as if it had been previously selected for the expiation of the criminal's evil and outrageous deed of crime. The preparation for the last act of the tragedy was soon completed, by the fastening of a rope to the joists of the hall. A neat and judicious hangman's knot was soon place at the other end, and the wagon in which the doomed man lay was backed under. Standing between the certainties of earth and the uncertainties of the future, with the dark waters of death in full view to the eyes of him who was soon to pass over, the guilty culprit was asked if he had anything to say, and his reply was..." Men, you are doing a great wrong!" which he repeated several times. He was asked if he had nothing more to say: if not the end was near. Saying nothing more, the wagon was driven from under, and William Kemmer, the negro ravisher, danced an air jig suspended between heaven and earth. Thus ended the career of an evil and corrupt scoundrel, whose vicious tastes and unbridled lust brought him a just and ignominious death. After hanging until he was dead and beyond the reach of the pains and pangs of this world, a placard, written upon the glued side of an envelope was pinned upon his breast by some one who fully understood the use and force of his mother tongue, from which we made the following copy:

"- It is the verdict of one hundred and sixty men from Hancock, Shelby and Rush that his life is inadequate to the demands of justice." ...

When life was pronounced extinct, some one in the masked crowd rose and announced in slow and measured tones, in substance as follows:

"The act just committed was done in no spirit of bravado or malice, but to vindicate, in a small degree, an outrage upon an innocent and unprotected woman, and to give protection in the future to your wives, as well as mine; that if any one, be he officer or citizen, divulge the secrets of this night he shall suffer (pointing to the suspended negro) in the same way."

With this benediction, the crowd was dispersed from the Fair Ground and the inanimate form of William Kemmer was left suspended in mid-air...

Another article mentioned the Coroner's Inquest over the Dead Body of William Kemmer. On Saturday morning, January 26, 1875, Harrison 1. Cooper, Coroner of Hancock County, hearing that the dead body of a negro man was suspended in the old Floral Hall on the Fair Ground, east of Greenfield, repaired to the scene with a dray to remove the body to town. He found the body suspended by the neck with a small cotton cord doubled and looking quite natural. The mouth and eyes were closed, and, beyond a slight hemorrhage at the nose, the man looked as if nothing unusual had happened. The cord around the neck was sunk beneath the skin, but so far as could be seen the skin was not broken. Two small holes in the scalp on the back of the head were visible, but they evidently did not do much harm, beyond a stun at the time of being made, as the skull was not broken. The Coroner cut him down, placed him on the dray and moved him to town, leaving the noose still around his neck, and with which he was buried. He was placed in a coffin at the undertaking establishment of Wills and Pratt, where he remained during the day, being visited by thousands of citizens and strangers. Some difficulty was experienced in getting a place to deposit his remains, his father, at Carthage, having refused to a special messenger from the Coroner to have anything to do with them. Not being a citizen of Greenfield, he could not be interred in the New Cemetery without the payment of the required fee, two dollars. There was no one to advance the money, and Mr. Cooper had to look elsewhere for a place to deposit the body of Kemmer. About dark the box was placed in a wagon, and the Coroner, and the grave-digger, Buffalo Bill, it was driven to the county poor

Doc Townsend. "travelin_g iz medicine man" and "U.S. Grant lookalilke." (Neg. C7 I 77. IMCPL-Riley Collection, Indiana Historical Society.)

farm, where the remains of William Kemmer, the negro ravisher, were deposited about 11 p.m. in their last resting place, "unwept, unhonored, and unsung."

Shortly after the Kemmer incident, Riley composed his little remembered poem, "Death."

This seems to be a projection of how William Kemmer must have felt. So began another period of wandering which continued for the next two years.