The Lost History of the Capitol by Edward P. Moser

Author:Edward P. Moser
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lyons Press
Published: 2021-07-12T00:00:00+00:00

PANDEMONIUM AT THE PORTICO

Below the lines of blue-clad police, the marchers waited. Like San Francisco of old, B Street then had cable cars, and the clang of trolley wheels against metal rails mixed with the loud chatter of the spectators. Coxey and Browne finished their short strategy session. Browne uttered a few tart words to a policeman close by.

Suddenly, the two leaders plunged into the crowd. The pair leapt over a retaining wall and ran toward the Capitol Building. A horde of spectators, a “rushing, scrambling mob,” followed “at their heels.” Christopher Columbus Jones also darted into the throng.

The hulking Browne, holding a “Peace on earth” banner as he raced along, made it to the southeast side of the plaza fronting the steps. He was a big target, however, and cops on horses, galloping through the shrubbery, zeroed in. One cop ordered: “You can’t enter here with that flag!”

Two policemen on horseback grabbed him by the collar. Cops smacked him in the head with billy clubs and tore his shirt. They ripped off his amber necklace, the beads honoring his late wife falling to the ground. Ray Baker, the sympathetic reporter, picked up the beads, and later returned them to Browne.

Two cops arrested Browne and dragged him away. Lawmen also detained Chris Columbus Jones. They pulled his stovepipe hat down over his face. Both he and Browne were taken to the police court. At the White House, President Cleveland got a police telegram that Browne had “received a clubbing.”

The law officers, shaken by the mass of people, some of whom may have attacked the mounted police, treated onlookers roughly. “Police cavalry with horses rearing and plunging,” reported the Washington Post, “charged upon the crowd to keep them back. Clubs were freely used, and several of the spectators must have gone away with crushed hats or sore heads . . . men and women were knocked down and trampled in the mad rush.”

Flagbearer Jasper Johnson was also hurt in the melee. Shrubs and bushes about the Capitol’s entrance were flattened by hoof and heel.

Coxey, blending into the crowd, had better luck than Browne. He pushed through a thicket of bystanders and sidestepped many of the cops. He made it to the middle of the Portico and rushed up the Capitol steps. Above him, hundreds were watching. Below, some fifteen thousand spectators spilled over and out of the plaza. Near him was an iconic statue of George Washington portrayed as a Greek god.

It was the chance of a lifetime for a public speaker.

But it was not to be.

A police sergeant came up to him.

Coxey told the cop: “I wish to make an address to the American people.”

“Well,” said the sergeant, “you can’t make it here.”

“Then, I want to enter a protest against this perversion of the Constitution.”

A police captain and a lieutenant took Coxey off the steps. Foiled from giving his prepared remarks, he handed them off to a reporter.

The frustrated officers, their way blocked by the crowd, cleared a way forward with their clubs.

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