Abe’s trinity patrolled the train day and night. Officially, they were “detectives” from Springfield who’d volunteered to look after the new president. His security detail also included a pair of humans—a detective named Allan Pinkerton and his old friend Ward Hill Lamon. Lamon had volunteered to be Abe’s bodyguard out of nothing more than friendly concern for his safety. He was one of the few around the new president who knew the gravity of the threats he faced. In the coming years, White House staff would grow used to seeing Lamon patrol the White House grounds after dark, or sleeping in front of the door to the president’s bedroom. He was big, tough, handy with a gun, and fiercely loyal—and his help was desperately needed.
Abe’s train was scheduled to stop in at least ten major cities on the way to Washington. In each one, thousands (if not tens of thousands) of locals came in hopes of seeing the new president with their own eyes. Abe would often make an impromptu speech from the rear car—sometimes only inches from those who’d packed in to hear him speak. He would then leave the stations by coach to meet with local leaders, attend banquets, or watch parades in his honor. It was a security nightmare.
It has been an overwhelming several days. The boys are in fine spirits, though—running about the train, watching the country roll by through its windows. Bob finds it “all so very exciting,” while Willie and Tad seem not the least bit affected by the crowds, or by the presence of so many new faces. Mary, too, seems to be taking it all in stride, though her head has been especially bothersome this trip. *
For all the excitement, there was a conspicuous tension hanging over the train. Everyone on board felt it, though no one spoke of it openly.
There are some who have sworn that I shall never live to see the White House. Such talk breeds grave concern (an appropriate kind given the subject) on the faces of my protectors. I, however, can honestly say that it costs me not one nickel of sleep—for I have known death my entire life, and have come to regard him as something of an old friend. Of course, Mary is roused to great anxiety by these rumors (but then, she is roused to great anxiety by a great many things). So long as our boys hear nothing of it, I am content.
The trip continued without incident for ten days, through Indiana, Ohio, New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania—and it began to seem that all the talk of assassination was just that. But on February 22nd in Philadelphia, Abe received an urgent visit from William Seward’s son, Frederick. He came bearing a sealed letter.
Dear Mr. President Elect,
Our mutual acquaintance wishes it known that a plot has been discovered in Baltimore. Four men will stab and shoot you to death when you change trains at the Calvert Street Station. He thought it best you should be aware of this, so that you may take every precaution against it.
Yours,
—Wm. Seward
It was decided that Abe, accompanied by Pinkerton and Lamon, and wearing a hat and cloak to conceal his identity from the other passengers, would take a separate train through Baltimore directly to Washington. Pinkerton and Lamon would be armed, Abe wouldn’t.
This caused quite a squabble, I recall. Lamon (who knew me to be proficient with such weapons) insisted I be given a revolver and a long knife. Pinkerton refused. “I will not have it said that the future president of the United States entered the capital armed!” The two nearly came to blows over the matter, until I offered a compromise: Lamon would carry two of each weapon, and would give them over only if we came under attack. It was agreed to, and we prepared to be off.
But their plans changed when Pinkerton realized that the trinity was gone.
[They] had simply vanished somewhere between Philadelphia and Harrisburg—giving no reason for their absence. As I refused to leave Mary and the boys without an armed escort, it was quickly decided that Pinkerton would stay behind and look after them while Lamon accompanied me on the other train. The telegraph lines between Pennsylvania and Maryland were then cut, so that any conspirators would be unable to relay word of our departure from Harrisburg.
Just after midnight on the 23rd, Abe’s “secret” train passed through Baltimore on its way to Washington.
There were anxious moments as we passed through the heart of the city (more slowly, it seemed, than any train I had ever ridden on). Could these assassins have discovered our trick? Were they, at this very moment, preparing to bombard our train with cannon fire?
Abe needn’t have worried. By the time his train rolled through the station, three of his would-be assassins were already dead—and the fourth was dying beneath his feet.
The partial bodies of four men were found near Calvert Street Station the next morning. From the February 23rd edition of the
Two gentlemen have had [their] heads taken. Another has been viciously beaten, to the extent that police are as yet unable to determine his age or race. The fourth, it seems, was halved beneath the wheels of a passing locomotive. Incredibly, a witness claims that the gentleman survived for several minutes thereafter—his spine being severed in such a way that he was still able to move his head and arms. He was seen faintly crying out and attempting to drag his remaining body from the tracks before dying.
Though they never spoke a word about the incident, Abe never doubted that his three vampire protectors had been responsible for the carnage.
V
On March 4th, 1861, Abraham Lincoln—exceptional boy of Sinking Springs Farm, apple of his departed mother’s eye, survivor of the trials of Job, and one of the nation’s most accomplished vampire hunters—was sworn in as the sixteenth president of the United States.
We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.
Tens of thousands gathered in front of a covered wooden platform on the Capitol steps to hear him speak. Little did they know that they were witnessing the largest security operation in history. Troops were stationed around the city, ready to put down any violent protests or large-scale attacks. Police (both uniformed and not) stood guard beneath the podium where Abe spoke, keeping an eye out for anyone who might raise a revolver or long rifle. Closer to the president elect, Ward Hill Lamon hovered on the platform with two revolvers in his coat and a long knife on his belt. The vampires of the trinity were stationed at different points, but they were never far from Abe.
Only later would I learn that the hearts of two armed men had been discreetly run through during my speech. Unlike the assassins in Baltimore, these had been vampires.
Five weeks into Abe’s young presidency the country’s strained “bonds of affection” finally broke.
Fort Sumter, a federal stronghold in Charleston Harbor, South Carolina, had been under siege by Confederates since January. The Southerners demanded that the Union troops (commanded by Major Robert Anderson) surrender the fort, as it was in South Carolina, and therefore not the property of the federal government. Abe had done
