Lawrence, Kansas Massacre, 1863
About the Article: This account of the Lawrence, Kansas Massacre, 1863 is primarily based on a letter penned by Reverend Richard Cordley, a pastor of the Congregational Church who was an eyewitness to Quantrill’s Raid on Lawrence, Kansas. The letter, a firsthand chronicle of the events, was later published by J.S. Broughton of Lawrence in 1865. The original document is preserved in the Kansas Collection of the Kenneth Spencer Research Library and the Department of History at the University of Kansas. Alec Miller prepared the electronic copy in Lawrence, Kansas, on June 30, 1994.
Introduction
Despite its profound impact and tragic consequences, a comprehensive and definitive account of the Lawrence, Kansas Massacre, 1863, has remained elusive. The letter written by Reverend R. Cordley, submitted to the Congressional Record shortly after the event, and subsequently republished in Boughton & McAllister’s Directory of Lawrence in 1865, represents the most substantial primary source available.
This historical narrative draws heavily on Mr. Cordley’s letter, enriching it with personal experiences and observations from survivors who managed to escape the widespread slaughter. Their recollections, vivid and poignant, offer a visceral understanding of the harrowing events that unfolded during those fateful hours, as if they had occurred only yesterday.
While an exhaustive compilation of every survivor’s personal account and a detailed record of the heroic deeds performed by the women of Lawrence during that period would be an invaluable contribution, it would necessitate volumes. These brave women, in the face of unimaginable terror, saved countless lives and extinguished flames in nearly 100 burning dwellings. This is a record of the Lawrence, Kansas Massacre, 1863.
August 21, 1863 – 150 Men Killed, Eighty Women Made Widows, and 250 Children Made Orphans
The devastating destruction of Lawrence was, in all likelihood, a long-considered objective of the Confederate border rebels. From the onset of the Civil War, persistent rumors circulated regarding the planning and execution of such an attack. These rumors invariably spurred defensive preparations, yet the inhabitants of Lawrence had become so accustomed to alarms that they were largely desensitized to them. On several occasions, the threat seemed imminent, particularly after the Battle of Springfield, Missouri, and following the rebel capture of Lexington, Missouri. Ironically, in the months leading up to the raid in August 1863, the residents of Lawrence felt a heightened sense of security. The power of the rebellion in Missouri had waned, and Federal forces maintained a presence along the border. While small gangs could still inflict hardship, it appeared that the military’s vigilance would prevent the assembly of any substantial force. For several months, no credible rumors of impending danger had surfaced.
However, a segment of the citizenry remained skeptical of the town’s complete safety. Earlier in the summer, Mayor Collamore successfully petitioned military authorities to station a contingent of soldiers in Lawrence, under the command of Lieutenant Hadley, who was regarded as a highly capable officer. Lieutenant Hadley’s brother served on General Ewing’s staff. Around August 1st, this brother informed him that his spies had infiltrated William Quantrill’s camp. They mingled freely with his men, and learned from Quantrill’s clerk that they intended to raid Lawrence around the full moon, approximately three weeks prior to the actual assault. He urged his brother to bolster the town’s defenses to the best of his abilities, to fight to the last man, and never to be taken prisoner, as Quantrill routinely executed all prisoners. Lieutenant Hadley shared this information with Mayor Collamore, who immediately initiated defensive measures for the town. The militia was mobilized, pickets were deployed, the cannons were made ready, and warnings were issued to the surrounding countryside.
Had Quantrill and his band of raiders arrived as initially indicated, they would have been, in the words of the time, "welcomed with bloody hands and hospitable graves." When confronted in Lawrence about the delay, Quantrill purportedly replied, "You were expecting me then, but I have caught you napping now." This was a devastating blow for the Lawrence, Kansas Massacre, 1863.
The question arises as to why the people of Lawrence relaxed their vigilance so soon after receiving such credible intelligence regarding Quantrill’s intentions. The city and military authorities committed a fatal error by maintaining strict secrecy about the reasons for the heightened state of alert. No one was informed of the specific grounds for concern. Rumors abounded, but their origin could not be reliably traced. Companies of militia arrived from the surrounding areas, but upon being unable to ascertain the reason for their summons, they returned home, only to be ridiculed by their neighbors. Failing to identify any genuine cause for alarm, the residents gradually began to dismiss the rumors as mere echoes of the false alarms that had periodically disrupted their lives for the past two years. The actions of the military authorities further reinforced this perception.
Mayor Collamore requested cannons and troops from Fort Leavenworth. These were promptly dispatched, but were intercepted near Lawrence by a dispatch from Kansas City, ordering their return. A few days later, the squad of soldiers under Lieutenant Hadley’s command was also ordered to depart. This indicated to the citizens that the military authorities in Kansas City, presumably possessing superior intelligence, did not consider Lawrence to be in imminent danger.
The prevailing sense of security swiftly returned. The citizens were assured that Quantrill could not penetrate the military line along the border without detection. They were also confident that he could not traverse fifty miles through a pro-Union county without news of his approach reaching them. As a result, the people of Lawrence were never more secure, and never less prepared, than on the night preceding the raid.
The Approach
On the day before the raid, Quantrill assembled his force around noon and commenced their journey towards Kansas at approximately two o’clock. They crossed the border between five and six o’clock in the evening, proceeding directly across the prairie towards Lawrence. Following the old Santa Fe wagon road, they passed through Gardner around 11 p.m., burning several houses and killing one or two residents. They passed through Hesper, located ten miles southeast of Lawrence, between two and three o’clock in the morning. By this time, the moon had set, the night was dark, and the road ahead was uncertain. The raiders seized a young boy from a house near Captain’s Creek and forced him to guide them into Lawrence. The boy remained with them throughout their operations in Lawrence, after which Quantrill provided him with a new suit of clothes, a horse, and sent him home. They entered Franklin at the first glimmer of dawn, proceeding quietly and remaining low on their horses to avoid attracting attention. However, the command "Rush on, boys, it will be daylight before we are there! We ought to have been there an hour ago!" was clearly overheard. From this point onward, as the light increased, they accelerated their pace. Upon first sighting the town, they paused. Many expressed hesitation, fearing that they would be overwhelmed and that proceeding was madness. Quantrill ultimately declared his intention to proceed, inviting those who would to follow him. Two horsemen were dispatched ahead to ensure that all was quiet in the town. These scouts rode through the town and back without arousing suspicion. They were observed passing through Main Street, but their presence at that hour did not appear unusual. At the residence of Reverend S. S. Snyder, a detachment veered from the main body, entered his yard, and shot him. Mr. Snyder, a prominent minister within the United Brethren denomination, also held a commission as a lieutenant in the Second Colored Regiment, likely contributing to the hostility directed towards him.
From this point, their advance was relatively swift but cautious. Periodically, they checked their horses, as if apprehensive about continuing. They were observed approaching by several individuals on the outskirts of town, but in the dimness of the morning and the distance, they were mistaken for Union troops. They continued in formation until reaching the high ground overlooking Main Street, at which point the command "Rush on to the town!" was given. Instantly, they surged forward with a terrifying yell. The attack was meticulously planned, with each man assigned a specific role. Detachments were dispersed throughout every section of the town with such speed and precision that before the inhabitants could fully comprehend the significance of the initial yell, the entire town was overrun. They flooded into every street. Eleven raiders ascended Mount Oread, from which all the roads leading into town could be observed for several miles. Their purpose was to monitor the surrounding countryside, preventing reinforcements from gathering and intervening.
Another, larger squad targeted the western part of town, while the main body converged on the Eldridge House Hotel from two or three different streets. They first encountered a group of recruits for the Kansas Fourteenth. They fired upon these recruits as they passed, killing 17 out of 22. This attack did not impede the overall advance. A few turned aside to pursue and shoot fleeing soldiers, but the company pressed on at the command "To the hotel!" which could be heard throughout the town. Of all the bloody scenes that followed, none equaled the initial moments in terms of sheer chaos and terror. The guerrillas demonstrated exceptional horsemanship, exhibiting the ease and mastery acquired through a life spent in the saddle amidst dangerous circumstances. Their horses appeared scarcely to touch the ground, while the riders sat with perfectly relaxed bodies and arms, revolvers fully cocked, firing at every house and person they passed, and yelling like demons with every stride. On either side of this torrent of fire, men fell dead or wounded, while women and children, partially dressed, ran screaming, some attempting to escape danger and others rushing to the aid of their murdered loved ones. The Lawrence, Kansas Massacre, 1863, was underway.
The Capture of the Hotel
They sped along Main Street, firing at any stragglers on the sidewalk and into nearly every window. They halted in front of the Eldridge House. The firing ceased, and a brief period of quiet ensued. Expecting resistance at this point, they sat gazing at the windows above them, seemingly in fearful suspense. Captain Banks, the Provost Marshal of the State, opened a window, displayed a white flag, and called for Quantrill. In a few moments, Quantrill rode forward, and Banks, acting in his capacity as Provost Marshal, surrendered the hotel, stipulating the safety of its occupants.
At that moment, the large gong in the hotel began to sound throughout the building, intended to awaken the sleepers. This caused the entire column to recoil, apparently believing it to be the signal for an attack from the hotel. After a brief hesitation, and encountering no resistance, they pressed forward again and began the work of plunder and destruction. They ransacked the hotel, robbing the rooms and their occupants. They gathered the occupants together at the top of the stairs, and after the looting was complete, they marched them across the street onto Winthrop Street under guard. After proceeding a short distance, a ruffian rode up and ordered a young man out of the ranks, firing two shots at him, but without effect.
One of the guards intervened, threatening to kill the ruffian if any of the prisoners were harmed. Quantrill then rode up and stated that the City Hotel on the riverbank would be protected because he had boarded there some years prior and had been treated well. He instructed the prisoners to proceed there and remain inside, assuring them of their safety. The prisoners obeyed the orders as readily as any of Quantrill’s men, quickly seeking refuge in the designated building. This treatment of the prisoners from the Eldridge House demonstrates that the raiders anticipated resistance from that location and were relieved by the offer of surrender. They not only promised protection but also honored their word. Other hotels received no such consideration and had no experience of rebel honor.
At the Johnson House, they shot at anyone who appeared, and the prisoners who were eventually captured and marched off were shot a short distance from the house, some of them amidst the fires of the burning buildings. Such was the common fate of those who surrendered as prisoners. Mr. R.C. Dix was among these. His house was adjacent to the Johnson House, and after being fired upon in his own house, he sought refuge in the Johnson House. All the men were ordered to surrender. "All we want," said a rebel, "is for the men to give themselves up, and we will spare them and burn the house." Mr. Dix and others surrendered. They marched them towards town, and after they had gone about two hundred feet, the guards shot them all, one after another. Mr. Hampson, one of the group, fell wounded and lay as if dead until he could escape unseen. A brother of Mr. Dix remained in the shop and was shot four times through the window, falling almost helpless. The building was burning above him, and he was forced to drag himself into the adjacent building, which fortunately was not consumed by the fire. The air was so still that the fire did not spread from one building to another.
The Carnage – "Hell Let Loose"
Following the surrender of the Eldridge House and the dissipation of any fear of resistance, the raiders scattered in small gangs throughout the town, seeking plunder and blood. The order was "to burn every house and kill every man." Nearly every house was entered and robbed, and the men found within were either killed or spared based on the character or whim of their captors. Some of the raiders appeared completely brutalized, while others displayed some lingering vestiges of humanity. One woman recounted that as successive gangs arrived at her house, she consistently confronted them and attempted to engage them in conversation, believing that she could appeal to any remaining humanity if she could simply get them to talk. Those women who confronted them boldly fared the best.
It is doubtful whether the world has ever witnessed such a horrific scene – certainly not outside the annals of savage warfare. History offers no parallel to a situation in which an equal number of desperate men, so heavily armed, were unleashed upon an unsuspecting community. The carnage was exacerbated by the fact that the citizens could not believe that men could be such fiends. No one anticipated an indiscriminate slaughter. Once it became apparent that the town was under their control, most expected robbery and arson, the killing of any military personnel they could locate, and the murder of a few prominent figures. But few anticipated a wholesale massacre. Consequently, many who could have escaped remained and were killed. For this reason, people of color fared better than whites. They understood the kind of men slavery produced, and they fled into the woods at the first sign of alarm.
An observer, concealed where he could witness the events, stated that the scene perfectly embodied the slang phrase "Hell let loose." Most of the raiders resembled wild beasts, dressed roughly and swearing incessantly. They were primarily armed with a carbine and two to six revolvers strapped around them.
The surprise was so complete that any organized resistance was impossible. Before the inhabitants could fully grasp the reality of the situation, every part of the town was overrun by rebels, precluding any possibility of rallying. Even the recruits in the camp were caught completely off guard, failing to reach their designated positions. The attack could scarcely have been timed worse. The soldiers had just withdrawn their camp guard, and the townspeople were just awakening from sleep. Due to a fatal error, the authorities had kept the city’s arms in the public armory, rather than distributing them to individual homes. This prevented any general resistance from within the houses. Once the rebels seized control of Main Street, the armory became inaccessible to the citizens. The strategic deployment of squads of rebels in other parts of town prevented even a partial rally at any location.
There was no time or opportunity for consultation or coordinated action, and each man was left to fend for himself. However, many did attempt to reach the street with whatever arms they possessed. Most quickly realized that reaching the street was impossible and turned back. Some persisted and perished. Mr. Levi Gates lived about a mile from town, on the side opposite the rebels’ entry point. Upon hearing the gunfire in town, he immediately set out with his rifle, assuming that the citizens would mount a defense. Upon reaching town, he quickly realized that the rebels were in control. He was an excellent marksman and could not leave without using his rifle. With his first shot, he wounded a rebel, who jumped from his saddle. He was then brutally beaten until he was dead.
Mr. G. W. Bell, the County Clerk, resided on the hillside overlooking the town. He observed the rebels before their charge. He seized his musket and cartridge box, hoping to reach Main Street before they did. His family attempted to dissuade him, warning him that he would be killed. "They may kill me but cannot kill the principles I fight for. If they take Lawrence, they must do it over my dead body." With a prayer for courage and help, he departed. But he was too late. The street was occupied before he could reach it. He attempted to circumvent the street via the back way, intending to reach the ravine west of the street. There, he encountered other citizens. He asked, "Where shall we meet?" They assured him that it was too late to meet anywhere and urged him to save himself. He turned back, seemingly intending to return home. However, the rebels were scattered in all directions, placing him in their midst. A friend urged him to discard his musket, which he did. Finding escape impossible, he entered an unfinished brick house and climbed onto the joists above, accompanied by another man.
A rebel entered and began firing at them. He interceded on behalf of his friend and soon discovered that the rebel was an old acquaintance who had often dined at his table. He appealed to him in such a way that the rebel promised to spare both their lives, for the sake of their old acquaintance, if they would come down. They descended, and the rebel escorted them to approximately 20 of his companions outside. "Shoot him! Shoot him!" was the immediate cry. He requested a moment to pray, which was granted, and then he was shot with four bullets. His companion was wounded and lay as if dead, but later recovered. The treacherous rebel who deceived and murdered him subsequently went to his house and informed his wife, who was unaware of her husband’s fate: "We have killed your husband, and now we come to burn his house." They set the house on fire, but the family managed to save it. Mr. Bell was a man of exceptional character, leaving behind a wife and six children to mourn his loss.
The limited resistance offered to the rebels revealed their cowardice as much as their general lawlessness revealed their brutality. On the opposite bank of the river, twelve soldiers were stationed. When the rebels first entered the town, they filled Massachusetts Street. They even attempted to cut the rope to the ferry. However, these soldiers freely employed their rifles, firing at any rebel they could see. Their bullets screamed up the street, and it was not long before that section of town was largely deserted. If any of the raiders happened to pass that way, they were careful to avoid exposing themselves to the bullets from across the river. As a result, the entire section of town along the riverbank was spared. Governor Charles Robinson’s house, which they inquired about, was located in this area. They took possession of the armory early on, but left it unharmed, along with most of its guns.
Further evidence of their cowardice was the fact that very few stone houses were molested. They avoided almost all houses that were tightly closed, preventing them from seeing inside, and where the occupants did not reveal themselves. A deep ravine, wooded but narrow, ran almost through the center of town. Many citizens escaped into this ravine. The rebels often chased men into this ravine, firing at them. However, they never followed anyone into the ravine and rarely approached the brink. They shied away as if anticipating a stray shot whenever they came near it. The cornfield west of town was filled with refugees. The rebels rode up to the edge as if longing to enter and butcher those who had escaped them, but a healthy fear that it might be a trap restrained them. Mrs. Hindman lived on the edge of this cornfield. They repeatedly came to her house for water. The gang insisted on knowing what "was in the cornfield." The brave woman replied, "Go in and see. You will find it the hottest place you have been in today." Having had to carry water to the refugees, she could attest to the heat. The rebels took her word and left. Thus, every small ravine and thicket around the outskirts of town was shunned as if a viper resided within. In this way, scores of lives that would otherwise have been lost were saved.
In almost every instance where determined resistance was offered, the rebels withdrew. Mr. A. K. Allen lived in a large brick house. A gang came to his door and ordered him out. "No!" replied the old gentleman, "if you want anything of me, come where I am. I am good for five of you." They took his word for it, and he and his house were thereafter unmolested. The two Messrs. Rankin were in the street, attempting to reach a particular house, when they were overtaken by six of the raiders. They immediately faced their foes, drew their revolvers, and began to fire, at which point the six broke and fled. These cowards had not come to fight, but to murder and steal.
Scenes and Incidents
Only a few incidents of the massacre can be recounted here, serving as representative examples of the whole. The scenes of horror described must be multiplied until the total reaches one hundred and eighty, the number of killed and wounded during the Lawrence, Kansas Massacre, 1863.
General Collamore, the Mayor of the city, was awakened by their shouts around his house. His house was well known, and they targeted it to prevent him from taking measures for defense. When he looked out, the house was surrounded. Escape was impossible. There was only one hiding place – the well. He immediately entered the well.
The enemy searched the house for its owner, swearing and threatening. Failing to find him, they set the house on fire and waited to watch it burn. Mrs. Collamore spoke to her husband while the fire was burning.
However, the house was so close to the well that when the flames erupted, they shot over the well, and the burning debris fell inside. When the flames subsided enough for the well to be approached, there was no sign of Mr. Collamore or the man who had descended into the well with him. After the rebels had departed, Mr. Lowe, a close friend of Gen Collamore, immediately descended into the well to search for him. The rope supporting him broke, and he also died in the well, bringing the total to three bodies drawn from its cold water. At Dr. Griswold’s residence, there were four families. The doctor and his wife had just returned from a visit east the evening before. Honorable S. M. Thorp, a State Senator, Mr. J. C. Trask, Editor of the State Journal, and Mr. H. W. Baker, a grocer, with their wives, were boarding with Dr. Griswold’s family. The house was attacked around the same time as General Collamore’s. The raiders demanded that the men come out. When they did not comply immediately, they assured them that "they should not be harmed if the citizens quietly surrender, it might save the town." This idea motivated them to come out at once. Mr. Trask said, "If it will help save the town, let us go." They went downstairs and out of doors. The raiders ordered them to line up and march ahead of them toward town. They had scarcely gone twenty feet from the yard before the four were shot down. Dr. Griswold and Mr. Trask were killed instantly. Mr. Thorp and Mr. Baker were wounded and later died. The ladies attempted to reach their husbands, but were driven back. A guard was stationed just below, and every time the ladies attempted to go from the house to their dying friends, this guard would dash up at full speed and drive them back with oaths and threats. After the bodies had lain for about half an hour, a gang rode up, rolled them over, and shot them again. Mr. Baker received his only dangerous wound from this shot. After shooting the men, the raiders entered and robbed the house. They demanded even the personal jewelry of the ladies. Mrs. Trask begged to be allowed to keep her wedding ring. "You have killed my husband; let me keep his ring." "No matter," replied the heartless fiend, snatching the relic from her hand. Dr. Griswold was one of the principal druggists in the town, Mr. Thorp was a State Senator, Mr. Trask was the editor of the State Journal, and Mr. Baker was one of the leading grocers in the town. Mr. Thorp lingered in great pain until the next day, when he died. Mr. Baker, after a long period of uncertainty, recovered. He had been shot through the lungs.
The most brutal murder was that of Judge Carpenter. Several gangs called at his house and robbed him of everything he had, but his affable manner seemed to disarm them, and they all left him alive and his house standing. Towards the end, another gang arrived, more brutal than the rest. They asked him where he was from. He replied, "New York." "It is you New York fellows who are doing all the mischief," one replied, drawing his revolver to shoot him. Mr. Carpenter ran into the house, upstairs, then down again, the raider pursuing him and firing at every turn. He finally eluded them and slipped into the cellar. He was severely wounded, and blood lay in pools in the cellar where he stood for a few minutes. His hiding place was soon discovered, and he was driven out of the cellar into the yard and shot again. He fell mortally wounded.
His wife threw herself onto him and covered him with her body to shield him from further violence. The raider deliberately walked around her to find a place to shoot under her and finally raised her arm, put his revolver under it, and fired so she could see the ball enter his head. They then set the house on fire, but the fire was extinguished through the energy of the wife’s sister. The Judge had been married for less than a year. He was young but had already achieved considerable distinction in his profession. He had held the office of Probate Judge for Douglas County and, a year earlier, had been a candidate for Attorney General of the State.
Mr. Fitch was called downstairs and instantly shot. Although the second bullet was likely fatal, they continued to fire until they had lodged six or eight bullets in his lifeless body. They then began to set the house on fire. Mrs. Fitch attempted to drag her husband’s remains from the house but was forbidden. She then tried to save his miniature but was also forbidden to do this. Stupefied by the scene and the brutality directed towards her, she stood there gazing at the strange work around her, utterly unconscious of her position or danger. Finally, one of the raiders forced her to leave the house, or she likely would have been consumed with the rest. Driven out, she went and sat down with her three little ones in front and watched the house burn over her husband’s remains. Mr. Fitch was a young man of exceptional character and spirit. He was one of Lawrence’s "first settlers" and taught the first school.
James Perine and James Eldridge were clerks in the "County Store." They were sleeping in the store when the attack occurred and could not escape. The rebels entered the store and ordered them to open the safe, promising to spare their lives. The moment the safe door was opened, they shot them dead and left them on the floor. They were both promising young men, about seventeen years of age.
Mr. Burt was standing by a fence when one of the rebels rode up to him and demanded his money. He handed over his pocketbook, and as the rebel took the pocketbook with one hand, he shot Mr. Burt with the other. Mr. Murphy, a short distance up the same street, was asked for a drink of water, and as the fiend took the cup with his left hand, he shot his benefactor with his right. Mr. Murphy was over sixty years of age. Mr. Ellis, a German blacksmith, ran into the corn in the park, taking his little child with him. He remained concealed for some time, but the child, growing weary, began to cry. Hearing the cries, the rebels outside ran in and killed the father, leaving the child in his dead father’s arms. Mr. Albach, a German, was sick in his bed. They ordered the house cleared so that they could burn it. The family carried the sick man out on his mattress and laid him in the yard, at which point the rebels came out and killed him on his bed, unable to rise. These are acts of cruelty that even savages have never achieved.
One of the guerrillas went to the stable of J. G. Sands, corner of Pinckney and Tennessee Streets, and stole his carriage horse and the pet pony "Freddie." While engaged in this, four others came up the alley. One of them was heard to say, "Why in h____ are not these houses burnt?" Dismounting to execute their threat, they were met by "Freddie" running past them, having escaped from his captor. They were urged to assist in securing the runaway; remounting at once, they all followed him, who led them away from this part of town, and before he was again secured, they were engaged in other scenes of murder. This providential escape of the pony undoubtedly saved the houses and the lives of Dr. Fuller, B. W. Woodward, and J. G. Sands.
H. Sargeant’s residence was on New Hampshire Street between Winthrop and Henry. Early in the day, the guerrillas entered the house and robbed the occupants of all their valuables. They were then given notice to remove furniture, as the house would be burned. Before applying the torch, one party assisted in carrying out the piano. During the burning, Mr. Sargeant, Charley Palmer, and Mr. Young, a printer, were in the yard, along with Mrs. Sargeant, a sister of J. G. Sands Esq., and Mrs. Mary Hanom.
A squad of raiders fired a volley into the men, killing Mr. Palmer and wounding Mr. Sargeant but missing Mr. Young, who dropped and feigned death. Noticing signs of life in Mr. Sargeant, one of the men coolly reloaded his pistol, saying he "would soon finish him." Mrs. Sargeant immediately fell on her husband’s prone body, begging for his life, but the murderer placed the pistol above her shoulder and sent a bullet crashing through his head. Mr. Sargeant survived for eleven days. By this time, the body of Mr. Young was scorched by its proximity to the burning building, but his presence of mind saved him. The ladies dragged him into the weeds, in line with the other bodies, covered them with sheets, and were not further molested.
The soldiers seldom matched the courage these ladies showed in the heat of battle. Men were falling on every side; Mr. Williamson was killed nearby, and Mr. Hay was shot down. Bullets were flying all around them, but they stood guard over the dead and dying.
The residence of F. W. Read, located in the heart of the city, was visited by more squads than any other place. Seven different bands called there that morning. Mr. Read had drilled with his company the day before and had left his gun in the store; he started for it but was met at the door by robbers and retreated into his house. He ran upstairs and raised his head to look out the window when a bullet struck the window sill within six inches of his right eye. The squad piled bedding and books at the foot of the stairs and set it on fire to burn him out, but Mrs. Read put it out. The following squad was focused on stealing; after demanding firearms, as they all did, they then wanted money and then helped themselves to whatever they could find. In the back of a bureau drawer, they found a small box containing a pair of gold and coral armlets to loop up the dress at the shoulder of their little girl Addie, who had died a few months before. Mrs. Read begged him not to take them, as they had belonged to her deceased child, and she wanted them to remember her by; the brute replied with an oath, "Damn your dead baby, she’ll never need them again." The next squad entered the bedroom and turned the clothes down; one took out a large bowie knife and cut the mattress for a yard, while another lit a match to set it on fire. It proved to be a hair mattress and would not burn. They set the clothing on fire, but it was put out. The next squad that rode up only came in the house; he looked around and seemed satisfied that there was not much left in the house worth carrying off. Looking around, he coolly said, "This is all I want, Madame," and stepped up to the piano and, with one jerk, pulled off the piano cover, which was new and very nice, walked out, took the saddle from his horse and put it on for a saddle blanket. The next squad was half-drunk and demanded with an oath who had put the fire out; Mrs. Read told them she did and would do it again. The order was given to hold that woman; a villain grabbed her by the wrists and held her in a vice-like grip while the others piled up bedding and books on a cotton lounge under a window and set it on fire, and remained inside until the smoke drove them all onto the porch where Mrs. Read was dragged and held until the curtains and lounge were burning up and out of the top of the window when they let her go and said, "Damn you, you can have your home now if you will put it out," and went away.
Mrs. Read rushed through the smoke into the bedroom, grabbed a pillow in each hand, and thus protected, shoved against the window so burned that it fell out on the ground, and the home was saved. The next squad was commanded by an officer who inquired for Mr. Read and was told that he had gone east for goods. "Where was your store?" She pointed to Woodward’s Drug Store, on the corner of Massachusetts and Henry Street, and replied that it was all burning up. One man in his squad immediately replied, yes, someone has gone east from that store. There was P.R. Brooks, who was then clerking for Mr. Read, which showed how well-posted they were and that their spies had been there and done their work only too well. Mrs. Read said, "You seem to be an officer; look at this house and that burning store and say if you have not punished us enough." The officer turned to his men and commanded, "Men, go away from here and tell all the other squads not to molest these premises today; this family has been punished enough." He remained on the porch for one-half hour. He was the only one Mrs. Read saw that day who did not act like a brute and is believed to be a highly respectable man now living in Missouri. The last man to come was named Skeggs. To tell what he did would make this story too long. He was cruel and brutal; he stayed too long and was killed, the only one of the rebels known to have been killed during the Lawrence, Kansas Massacre, 1863.
Mr. Thornton had remained in his house until it was in flames. He then ran out, and they shot him three times in the hips. Another shot struck the back of his shoulders and passed clear down his back. Another shot struck his head. The rebel then leaped from his horse with a brutal oath, exclaimed: "I can kill you," and pounded him over the head with the butt end of his revolver until he fell senseless from exhaustion. The man was going to shoot again, but Mrs. Thornton ran between them and prevented him, and the brute soon left. Though so terribly shot, Mr. Thornton still lived, but two bullets in the hip joints could never be extracted, and he was a cripple for life.
D.W. Palmer, a gunsmith, was wounded and thrown into the flames of his burning shop. Mr. Langley lived about a mile from town. He was a fine old gentleman of 60. He was a peaceable man, taking no particular part in public affairs. He and his wife lived by themselves on a small farm. Two of the pickets stationed outside the town came to the house. Mrs. Langley begged them "to be merciful: they were old people and could not live long at best." But her requests had no effect; they hunted the old gentleman around the house and shot him in the yard. The first shot was not immediately fatal; they shot him repeatedly. They then set fire to the house, but through the energies of the old lady, the fire was put out, and the house was saved.
There were many hair-breadth escapes. Many ran to the cornfields near the town; others fled to the "friendly brush" by the river bank. The ravine ran almost through the town center, proving a safe refuge for scores. The cornfield west of town and the woods east were all alive with refugees. Many hid in the "Park," which was planted with corn. Many others who could get no further hid among the weeds and plants in their gardens. Mr. Strode, a colored blacksmith, had a small patch of tomatoes, no more than ten feet square. He took his money and buried himself among the vines. The rebels burned his shop not more than ten feet away but did not discover him.
Mr. Hampson, who had been shot, lay wounded by a burning building. Showing any sign of life would mean certain death. Therefore, his wife stood by him and asked one of the rebels to help carry her husband’s body away from the flames. He took hold of Hampson and carried him out of reach of the fire without realizing that he was alive. His wife helped him onto a hand cart as soon as possible, covered him up with rags, and then drew the whole away from danger. The rebels she passed thought her crazy for "drawing off that load of old rags."
One of the most remarkable escapes was that of Reverend H.D. Fisher. Here is his account in his own words: "When Quantrill and his gang came into our town, almost all were in their beds. My wife and