At the Temple of Music When given the opportunity to host a public reception for President McKinley, fair organizers chose to site it in the Temple of MusicLouis L. Babcock, grand marshal of the Exposition, regarded the building as ideal for the purpose. The large auditorium was located close to the Esplanade, in the heart of the fair, and had doorways on each of its four sides. In addition to rows of chairs on the floor of the hall, it had spacious galleries. Babcock spent the morning of September 6 making some physical arrangements for the reception. Floor seating was removed to create a broad aisle, running from the east doors through which the public would be admitted, to where McKinley would stand. Once members of the public shook hands with McKinley, they would continue on to exit the building. An American flag was draped behind the president, both to screen him from behind and for decorationseveral potted plants were arrayed around his place to create an attractive scene. Besides its utility for other purposes, the ornate building was one of the architectural features of the fair. Considerable arrangements had been made for the president's security. Exposition police were stationed at the doors; detectives from the Buffalo police guarded the aisle. In addition to McKinley's usual Secret Service agent, George Foster, two other agents had been assigned to the Buffalo trip because of Cortelyou's security concerns. Babcock was made nervous by a joke at lunch in an Exposition restaurant that the president might be shot during the reception. He had arranged for a dozen artillerymen to attend the reception in full-dress uniform, intending to use them as decoration. Instead, he had them stand in the aisle with instructions to close on any suspicious-looking person who might approach the president. These men were not trained in police work, and served to crowd the area in front of the president and obstruct the views of the detectives and Secret Service. At such events, Foster usually stood just to the left and behind McKinley. Milburn wished to stand to McKinley's left to be able to introduce anyone he knew in the line to the president, and Foster and another agent instead stood across the aisle from McKinley. Throughout the afternoon, crowds had filled the floor outside the blocked-off aisle, and the galleries as well, wanting to see the president, even if they could not greet him. McKinley arrived just on time, glanced at the arrangements, and walked over to his place, where he stood with Milburn on his left and Cortelyou on his right. The pipe organ began to play "
The Star-Spangled Banner" as McKinley ordered the doors open to admit those who had waited to greet him. The police let them in, and McKinley prepared to perform his "favorite part of the job". An experienced politician, McKinley could shake hands with 50 people per minute, gripping their hands first so as to both guide them past him quickly and prevent his fingers from being squeezed. Cortelyou anxiously watched the time; about halfway through the ten minutes allotted, he sent word to Babcock to have the doors closed when the presidential secretary raised his hand. Seeing Cortelyou looking at his watch, Babcock moved towards the doors. As the reception continued, the organist played works by
Johann Sebastian Bach. The procession of citizens shaking hands with their President was interrupted when 12-year-old Myrtle Ledger of
Spring Brook, New York, who was accompanied by her mother, asked McKinley for the red carnation he always wore on his lapel. The president gave it to her, then resumed work without his trademark good-luck piece. The Secret Service men looked suspiciously on a tall, swarthy man who appeared restless as he walked towards the president, but he shook hands with McKinley without incident and began to move towards the exit. The usual rule that those who approached the president must do so with their hands open and empty was not being enforced, perhaps due to the heat of the day, as several people were using handkerchiefs to wipe their brows; the man who followed the swarthy individual had his right hand wrapped in one, as if injured. Seeing this, McKinley reached for his left hand instead. As the two men's hands touched at 4:07 p.m., Czolgosz shot McKinley twice in the abdomen with a .32
Iver Johnson revolver concealed under the handkerchief. As onlookers gazed in horror, and as McKinley lurched forward a step, Czolgosz prepared to take a third shot. He was prevented from doing so when
James Parker, an American of African and Spanish descent from
Georgia who had been behind Czolgosz in line, slammed into the assassin, reaching for the gun. A split second after Parker struck Czolgosz, so did Buffalo detective John Geary and one of the artillerymen, Francis O'Brien. Czolgosz disappeared beneath a pile of men, some of whom were punching or hitting him with rifle butts. He was heard to say, "I done my duty." McKinley staggered backwards and to the right, but was prevented from falling by Cortelyou, Milburn, and Detective Geary; they guided him across some fallen bunting to a chair. The president tried to convince Cortelyou he was not seriously injured, but blood was visible as he tried to expose his injury. Seeing the pummeling being taken by Czolgosz, McKinley ordered it stopped. Czolgosz was dragged away, but not before being searched by Agent Foster. When Czolgosz kept turning his head to watch the president while being searched, Foster struck him to the ground with one punch. After stopping the beating of Czolgosz, McKinley's next concern was for his wife, urging Cortelyou, "My wife – be careful, Cortelyou, how you tell her – oh, be careful." The initial crowd reaction had been panic, and an attempt to flee the hall, which was frustrated by others surging inwards to see what had occurred. As McKinley was carried out on a stretcher to an electric-powered ambulance, there was a moan from the crowd at the sight of the president's ashen face. Foster rode with him on the way to the fair's hospital. On the way there, McKinley felt in his clothing and came out with a metal object. "I believe that is a bullet." McKinley had been shot twice; one bullet had deflected off a button and only grazed him; the other had penetrated his abdomen.
Operation The ambulance carrying McKinley reached the Exposition hospital at 4:25 p.m. Although it usually dealt only with the minor medical issues of fairgoers, the hospital did have an operating theatre. At the time of the shooting, no fully qualified doctor was at the hospital, only nurses and
interns. The best surgeon in the city, and the Exposition's medical director,
Roswell Park, was in Niagara Falls, performing a delicate neck operation. When interrupted during the procedure on September 6 to be told he was needed in Buffalo, he responded that he could not leave, even for the president of the United States. He was then told who had been shot. Park, two weeks later, would save the life of a woman who suffered injuries almost identical to McKinley's. The first physician to arrive at the hospital was Herman Mynter, whom the president had met briefly the previous day; the wounded McKinley (who had a good memory for faces) joked that when he had met Mynter, he had not expected to need his professional services. As McKinley lay on the operating table, he stated of Czolgosz, "He didn't know, poor fellow, what he was doing. He couldn't have known." With Park unavailable and with the fading afternoon light the major source of illumination in the operating room, upon the arrival of another surgeon,
Matthew D. Mann, the decision was made to operate at once to try to remove the remaining bullet. Mynter had given McKinley an injection of morphine and strychnine to ease his pain; Mann (a noted gynecologist without experience in abdominal wounds) administered
ether to sedate McKinley as the wounded man murmured the
Lord's Prayer. For hundreds of years, abdominal gunshot wounds had meant death by
gangrene or other infection, with doctors able to do little more than ease pain. Only seventeen years previously,
Emil Kocher, a Swiss surgeon, had been the first to successfully operate on a patient who had received such a wound. To increase the lighting, sunlight was reflected onto the wound by another physician; towards the end of the surgery, an electric light was rigged. The hospital lacked basic surgical equipment such as
retractors. With McKinley in a weakened condition, Mann could do little probing of the wound to try to find the bullet; his work was complicated by the fact that the president was obese. The surgeon made an incision in the president's skin, and found and removed a small piece of cloth which was embedded in the flesh. He probed with his finger and hand, finding damage to the digestive systemthe stomach displayed both an entry and exit wound. Mann sewed up both holes in the organ, but could not find the bullet itself; he concluded it had lodged in the president's back muscles. He later wrote, "A bullet once it ceases to move does little harm." A primitive
X-ray machine was on display at the fair but was not used on McKinley; Mann later stated that its use might have disturbed the patient and done little good. He used black silk thread to stitch the incision and wound, without drainage, and covered the area with a bandage. As the operation concluded, Park arrived from Niagara Falls; he was unwilling to interfere and at 5:20, McKinley was given another shot of painkiller and allowed to awaken. He was taken to the Milburn House by the electric ambulance. The first lady had not been told of the president's shooting; once the surgery was complete, the presidential physician,
Presley M. Rixey, gently told her what had occurred. Ida McKinley took the news calmly; she wrote in her diary, "Went to Niagra Falls this morning. My Dearest was receiving in a public hall on our return, when he was shot by a ... " Leech, in her biography of President McKinley, suggests that the first lady could not write the word, "anarchist".
Apparent recovery; eventual death (left), friend of President McKinley, arriving at the Milburn House after the shooting Within minutes of the shots, the news was conveyed around the world by telegraph wire, in time for the late newspaper editions in the United States. In the era before radio, thousands stood in cities across the country outside newspaper offices, awaiting the latest bulletin from Buffalo. Fears that McKinley would not survive the day of his shooting were allayed by reassuring bulletins issued by Cortelyou based on information from the doctors. Large, threatening crowds assembled outside Buffalo police headquarters where Czolgosz was brought. Word that he had admitted to being an anarchist led to attacks on others of that belief: one was nearly lynched in Pittsburgh. At the Milburn House, McKinley seemed to be recovering. On Saturday, September 7, McKinley was relaxed and conversational. His wife was allowed to see him, as was Cortelyou; the president asked his secretary, "How did they like my speech?" and was pleased on hearing of positive reactions. Meanwhile, Vice President Roosevelt (who had been in Vermont), much of the Cabinet, and Senator Hanna hurried to Buffalo. Cortelyou continued to issue encouraging bulletins. The president was permitted few visitors, and complained of loneliness. As the crisis seemed to have passed, dignitaries started to leave on September 9, confident of the president's recovery. Roosevelt left for a vacation in the
Adirondack Mountains after expressing outrage that Czolgosz might serve only a few years under New York State law for attempted murder, the maximum penalty for attempted murder in New York at that time being ten years.
Attorney General Philander Knox went to Washington, searching for a means to bring Czolgosz under federal law.
Secretary of State John Hay had been closely associated with the two presidents to be assassinated: he had been
Lincoln's
secretary, and a close friend of
James A. Garfield. He arrived on September 10; met at the station by Babcock with an account of the president's recovery, Hay responded that the president would die. McKinley biographer H. Wayne Morgan wrote of the week following the shooting: His hearty constitution, everyone said, would see him through. The doctors seemed hopeful, even confident ... It is difficult to understand the cheer with which they viewed their patient. He was nearly sixty years old, overweight, and the wound itself had not been thoroughly cleaned or traced. Precautions against infections, admittedly difficult in 1901, were negligently handled. According to McKinley biographer Margaret Leech, McKinley's apparent recovery "was merely the resistance of his strong body to the gangrene that was creeping along the bullet's track through the stomach, the pancreas, and one kidney". Another X-ray machine was sent from
New Jersey by its inventor,
Thomas Edison. It was not used on the president; sources vary on why this wasLeech stated that the machine, which she says was procured by Cortelyou and accompanied by a trained operator, was not used on orders of the doctors in charge of McKinley's case. Miller recounts that doctors attempted to test it on a man of about McKinley's size, but it proved to be missing a crucial part, much to Edison's embarrassment. McKinley had been given nutritive enemas; on September 11, he took some broth by mouth. When it seemed to do him good, the following morning they allowed him toast, coffee, and chicken broth. His subsequent pain was diagnosed as indigestion; he was given purgatives and most doctors left after their evening consultation. In the early morning of September 13, McKinley suffered a collapse. Urgent word to return to Buffalo was sent to Vice President Roosevelt, from the nearest telegraph or telephone in the Adirondack wilderness; a park ranger was sent to find him. Specialists were summoned; although at first some doctors hoped that McKinley might survive with a weakened heart, by afternoon they knew the case was hopeless. As yet unknown to the doctors, gangrene was growing on the walls of his stomach and toxins were passing into his blood. McKinley drifted in and out of consciousness all day; when awake he was the model patient. By evening, McKinley too knew he was dying, "It is useless, gentlemen. I think we ought to have prayer." His friends and family were admitted, and the first lady sobbed over him, "I want to go, too. I want to go, too." Her husband replied, "We are all going, we are all going. God's will be done, not ours" and with final strength put an arm around her. He may also have sung part of his favorite hymn, "
Nearer, My God, to Thee", although other accounts have her singing it softly to him. Ida McKinley was led away, her place briefly taken by Senator Hanna. Morgan recounts their final encounter, "Sometime that terrible evening, Mark Hanna had approached the bedside, tears standing in his eyes, his hands and head shaking in disbelief that thirty years of friendship could end thus." When a tentative, formal greeting gained no coherent response, Hanna "cried out over the years of friendship, 'William, William, don't you know me?'" At 2:15 a.m. on Saturday, September 14, 1901, President McKinley died. At the time of McKinley's death, Roosevelt was on his return journey to Buffalo, racing over the mountain roads by carriage to the nearest railroad station, where a special train was waiting. When he reached that station at dawn, he learned of McKinley's death. President Roosevelt
took the oath of office at about 3:00 p.m. that afternoon at the
Ansley Wilcox House in Buffalo. The oath was administered by U.S. district judge
John R. Hazel. == Aftermath ==