Last week I shared with you the details of my trip to Washington D.C. for the ceremonies surrounding the 150th anniversary of the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln. Although the memorial wreath laying outside of the Petersen House (“The House Where Lincoln Died”) across the street from Ford’s Theatre at 7:22 am (the moment of Lincoln’s death) was certainly the crescendo of the 36 hour observance, it was not the final event. Although I got shut out in my attempt to see the lavish stage production the evening before, I was able to participate in the last official event of “The Lincoln Tribute” hosted by the National Parks Service.
I was lucky enough to be one of a handful of people who accompanied Brian Anderson, author of the book Images of America: Ford’s Theatre, on a special April 15th backstage tour of the famous old theatre. Anderson met our small group on the steps of the “Family Circle” outside the theatre. He informed us that this was a special, separate entrance that led straight to the uppermost balcony. Admission here was 25 cents and seating, if you could find one, was a simple pine bench. These were seats for common people and this night, 150 years after Lincoln died, we counted ourselves among their legion.
Before we entered, Mr. Anderson instructed us to “be sure and touch these exterior walls as you walk past” as he ushered us into the empty theatre and locked the door behind us. This was about to get real interesting. He walked us around the famous theatre, informing us that it began life as a Baptist Church in 1833. Over the next three decades, the congregation outgrew the structure and it was sold to John T. Ford in 1861, who turned it into a theatre.
Anderson walked our group around nearly every square inch of the building, including the box in which Lincoln was mortally wounded, and the snakelike curved wall of the second floor dress circle against which John Wilkes Booth hugged as he skulked towards infamy and the stage itself, the center of attention for that fateful night. As I trod the boards beneath the Lincoln box, it amazed me just how far a leap it was for Booth. Officially 12 feet, it looked much higher. It immediately occurred to me that only a desperate man would attempt such a jump. No wonder he broke his leg.
As we gathered upon the stage, author Anderson shared the in-depth story of the theatre. Lincoln attended many plays there while President, and apparently many more rehearsals. Lincoln would often slip quietly into the theatre to sit in the back during rehearsals to escape the burden of his Civil War Presidency. The theatre could seat 2,400, which doesn’t seem possible when you gaze out at the seats from the stage. Sensing our skepticism, Anderson added, “But most of those were in the family circle area; standing room only.”
The night of Lincoln’s assassination, there were three different ticket prices for the production of Our American Cousin: Orchestra (main level, chair seating) $1.00, Dress Circle (first balcony, chair seating) $.75, and Family Circle (second balcony, bench seating) doubled from a quarter to 50 cents. And that night, the house was packed. Anderson demonstrated how Dr. Charles Leale was “hiked” up to the box to attend to the President’s wound. He speculated how actress Laura Keene was guided through a secret stairway leading to the box and walked us to the backstage door just as John Wilkes Booth did in 1865.
We entered “Baptist Alley” just as the assassin would have that fateful night. We were shown the spot where “Peanut John” was instructed to hold Booth’s horse (Peanut was rewarded for his diligence with a kick in the face from John Wilkes Booth) and we looked down the alley where Booth made his escape. Again, Anderson instructed us “to touch the brick wall as you pass.”
Our guide lead us back into the theatre and again we stood upon the famous stage. The author explained that John T. Ford hosted almost 500 performances here prior to that fateful night of April 14, 1865. Secretary of War Edwin Stanton initially approved a plan to reopen the theatre the very next night but quickly changed his mind when threats to burn the place down began to trickle in from around the district. Besides, Ford’s was no longer a theatre, it was a crime scene. The theatre would not open for performances for another 103 years.
Eventually, the United States Government appropriated the theatre, with Congress paying Ford $100,000 in compensation, and an order was issued forever prohibiting its use as a place of public amusement. Between 1866 and 1887, the theatre was taken over by the U.S. military and served as a facility for the War Department with records kept on the first floor, the Library of the Surgeon General’s Office on the second floor, and the Army Medical Museum on the third. Ironically, one of the exhibits in the medical museum was a section of the spine of John Wilkes Booth with the bullet that killed him still lodged in place. It rested for decades very near the bullet that killed Lincoln.
In 1887, the building exclusively became a clerk’s office for the War Department and the medical exhibits were moved out. If you had an ancestor who fought for the Union in the Civil War, there is a very good chance that his service records were stored at Ford’s Theatre. Brian Anderson told the story of the second tragedy of Ford’s Theatre. On June 9, 1893, the interior of the building collapsed, killing 22 clerks and injuring another 68, mostly women. Anderson lead us to the spot in the basement, off limits to the public, where the central support was located. He relayed how a couple of workmen, excavating too close to the pillar, caused it to fail and started a chain reaction that quickly brought the upper floors down upon each other like a deadly stack of pancakes.
This led some people to believe that the former church turned theatre and storeroom was cursed. The building was repaired and used as a government warehouse until 1911. Ford’s languished unused and forgotten for decades until a restoration movement finally gained traction in 1945. A bill was passed in 1955 to prepare an engineering study for the reconstruction of the building and in 1964 Congress approved funds for its restoration, which began that year. The theatre reopened on January 30, 1968, in what I’m sure must have closely resembled the pomp and circumstance of the 150th anniversary gala I failed to secure a ticket for.
Our special backstage tour concluded with an informal sit-down filled with casual conversation and history in the board room of the Ford’s Theatre Society, which is in John T. Ford’s former personal offices in the uppermost floor of the building. Here, Anderson explained his insistence that we “touch the bricks.” He pulled out a large modern reprint of a vintage 1890s photo showing the devastation caused by the 1893 collapse, followed by another photo from the 1960s taken during the restoration. “I am often asked by visitors how much of the theatre interior is original.” Anderson said, “To which I reply, none. The only thing remaining that is original are the bricks that make up the exterior skin of Ford’s Theatre. So when you touch these bricks, you’re touching 1865 Ford’s Theatre and beyond.”
Well said Brian Anderson, well said.
Next week, my walk through the assassination scene aftermath.
Al Hunter is the author of the “Haunted Indianapolis” and co-author of the “Haunted Irvington” and “Indiana National Road” book series. His newest book is “Bumps in the Night. Stories from the Weekly View.” Contact Al directly at Huntvault@aol.com or become a friend on Facebook.
