Massacre at Powder River

when he refused to give him a key to the room that Cassidy hit him over the head and took the key anyway.

When all the testimony was heard, Judge Clanton found no cause for charges to be brought against Matt and he was free to go. Matt thanked the police department and the judge, then he mounted Spirit for the long ride up Sussex.

When Winnie and his mother debarked in New York, they and the other first-class passengers were escorted through customs by courteous and helpful officials. Winnie saw hundreds of passengers from steerage, holding dearly on to all their worldly possessions, poorly dressed and clinging together in apprehension and wonder as they lined up to be processed through Castle Garden.

Once they were through customs, Winnie got his first good look at a city that was as big as London, but had a brashness to it that London did not have. He could see the huge sweeping “S” curve of the elevated railroad just off Pier 8. Looking back to the east, he could see the superstructure of the ship he and his mother had just left, as well as the towering masts of the sailing ships that were in port. On the docks, there were many wagons loaded with freight that had been taken from the ships and with freight that would be put on the ships.

Jennie’s first act was to hail a cab for them, a hansom cab that allowed Winnie and his mother to ride inside while the driver sat on a seat above and behind them. Having exchanged British pounds for American dollars at the customs office, Jennie passed the fare up through the hole in the roof.

“Disabuse yourself of any idea that I’m a foreigner without knowledge of the city,” Jennie said. “I was born here.”

“Sure ’n I wouldn’t think of such a thing now, m’lady,” the cab driver replied in a very thick Irish accent.

Winnie laughed.

“What is so funny?”

“You were afraid he would think you were a foreigner when he is,” Winnie said.

Jennie smiled. “I had almost forgotten that about New York,” she said.

The cab dropped them off in front of the Jerome Mansion on the corner of Madison Avenue and 26th Street. The five-story edifice, built by Jennie’s father Leonard, had a six-hundred-seat theater, a breakfast room that seated seventy people, a ballroom of white and gold with champagne- and cologne-spouting fountains, and a view of Madison Square Park.

Leonard Jerome, who was a major stockholder of the New York Times, had defended the newspaper office during the New York draft riots by personally manning a Gatling gun. He was the father of three daughters: Jennie, Clara, and Leonie. The girls were known as the good, the beauty, and the witty. Jennie, who was an exceptionally beautiful woman, was “the beauty.” Clara, whose real name was Clarita, was known as “the good,” and Leonie was “the witty.”

Jerome’s wife had given him one more daughter, Camille, who had died at the age of eight. It was also said of him that he had fathered the American operatic singer Minnie Hauk, though the rumor was never substantiated.

“Jennie!” her father said, greeting her with open arms. “How wonderful of you to visit us!”

Jennie’s mother was just as effusive in her greeting, and smothered Winnie with hugs and kisses.

That very evening, Jennie sent a cablegram to London.

LORD RANDOLPH CHURCHILL

WINNIE AND I ARRIVED SAFELY IN NEW YORK. AFTER BRIEF VISIT WITH MOTHER AND FATHER WILL PROCEED BY TRAIN TO WYOMING.

MUCH LOVE JENNIE

For the week they were in New York, Winnie was most struck by the diversity he encountered. Unlike London, where all spoke English and all faces were white, he found New York to be an exciting kaleidoscope.

One can stand on a street corner in New York and hear French, Italian, German, Spanish, Hebrew, and even Chinese spoken. There are white faces, black faces, and yellow faces, for New York appears to be the meeting place for all the people of the world.

On the day they were to leave, Jerome made his coach and driver available to take them to Grand Central Depot. The coach driver took them ahead of the long line of cabs on 42nd Street and stopped in front, where Red Caps recognizing that the coach represented wealth and tips, hurried over to render their assistance. Jennie went inside the terminal to buy train tickets.

“Sussex?” the ticket clerk repeated after she told him where she wanted to go. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s in Wyoming,” Jennie said. “My sister and brother-in-law live there.”

“Let me look on the map,” the clerk said. “Do you know the county it is in?”

“It is in Johnson County,” Jennie said.

“Johnson County, all right let me—ah, yes here it is. No, we have no train service there. I’m afraid that the closest we will be able to get you is Medicine Bow.”

“Then that is where we shall go,” Jennie said. “I am sure that there will be some sort of conveyance available once we reach Medicine Bow. Can you tell me when we will arrive there?”

“When do you plan to leave?”

“The next available train,” Jennie said. “And, we will want Pullman accommodations.”

“Yes, ma’am, that would be eleven o’clock this morning. The clerk checked his time schedule. Let’s see, this is Tuesday, if you leave on this morning’s train, you will arrive in Medicine Bow at five o’clock Friday afternoon.”

“Thank you,” Jennie said.

Her next stop was the Western Union office in the depot.

THE HON MORETON FREWEN

WINNIE AND I WILL ARRIVE IN MEDICINE BOW AT FIVE PM FRIDAY STOP

JENNIE

Chapter Eight