War on the Streets

It was the morning of Monday, July 13^th, 1863.  Officer Pat O’Leary of the New York Metropolitan Police Department sat at his desk at the Eighth District police station reading the New York Times.  The second drawing of draft numbers was taking place not too far away at Provost Marshall’s office at 3^rd Avenue and 47^th Street.  One of O’Leary’s fellow police officers, Officer Miles Johnson, sat across the room from him smoking a pipe.  He blew puffs of smoke and watched as they dispersed through the air.

“You think there’ll be any issues over at the Provost Marshal’s office today?” he said.  He leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on his desk.  “Things have been pretty tense around here the past few months.”

Officer O’Leary shook his head.  “Don’t think so.”  Although he recalled the two violent demonstrations that had taken place earlier in the year, there hadn’t been any problems at the first drawing on Saturday.

Officer O’Leary looked down and continued reading updates on the war in the newspaper.  It had been a number of days since the Union Army’s victory at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.  The battle had inflicted massive casualties on both sides, but the Union Army had successfully halted General Lee’s northern advancement and sent his army retreating back south across the Potomac River to Virginia.

“Sounds like the war could be over soon.  The Union’s had two big recent victories at Vicksburg and Gettysburg.  Maybe they don’t need to keep drafting soldiers.”

Officer Johnson cleaned out his pipe and made a sound of disgust.  “Doubt it.  Meade blew it.  He should have destroyed Lee’s army while he had the chance before they crossed back over the Potomac.  That would’ve crushed the confederacy and ended this war.”

It was getting close to ten o’clock.  Noise started to build up on the street outside of the police station.  Officer O’Leary stood up from his desk and walked over to the window.  He looked out and saw groups of people gathering across the street and walking around the corner.

“What’s going on out there?” asked Officer Johnson.

“Don’t know.  Could be a protest.  Let’s just stay alert.”  Officer O’Leary went back to his desk, sat down, and continued reading the newspaper.

As the clock struck ten the noise grew.  A large crowd could be heard a few streets away.  Suddenly, there was a sound of shattering glass followed by yells and screams.  A bell began to ring in the distance.  Both officers jumped from their desks and rushed to the window.  They looked out and saw clouds of smoke rising from a building not far away.

“Where could that be coming from?” asked Officer Johnson.

Officer O’Leary gasped in disbelief.  “It looks like it’s coming from the direction of the Provost Marshal’s office.”

Officer Johnson’s eyes widened.  He rushed back to his desk, grabbed his hat, his club, and his revolver, and ran out the door towards the Provost Marshal’s office.  Officer O’Leary quickly gathered his things and followed after him.

The two officers arrived at the scene to see an angry mob of hundreds of people gathered near the Provost Marshal’s office.  Flames burst through the broken windows as people frantically ran out of the building.  As firefighters arrived to put out the flames, rioters from the mob swarmed upon their vehicles, knocked them over, and broke them apart.  Other members of the mob terrorized people on the street as they attempted to pass by, smashing their vehicles and killing horses that pulled them.

Officers O’Leary and Johnson were soon joined by about a dozen other police officers.  Before the officers could engage, they saw a small group that had formed within the mob that was surrounding a man.  The man was lying motionless on the ground as people kicked and pummeled him.  Officer O’Leary stared at the man and was able to recognize him.  Overcome with shock, his mouth dried up and he struggled to find his voice.

“That’s Superintendent Kennedy!” he yelled in terror.

The other officers all gasped and looked upon the motionless body.  New York Metropolitan Police Superintendent John Kennedy was lying unconscious before them.  The officers quickly assembled in formation.  Furious and ready for a fight, they drew their clubs and guns and charged the mob.

Officer O’Leary pushed his way towards Superintendent Kennedy.  Wielding his club in his hand, he slashed people out of his path.  When he finally made it through, Officer O’Leary found the Superintendent covered in bruises and blood.  He grabbed the Superintendent’s limp body and dragged him to safety.

The officers did all that they could to hold back the violent mob, but were unsuccessful.  Greatly outnumbered, the crowd overpowered the officers.  The mob dispersed throughout the city and quickly grew in number.  They attacked and burned several other buildings including a hotel on 44^th Street, the mayor’s residence on 5^th Avenue, and the Fifth District police station.

Although made up of white lower-class workers who opposed the military draft, many of the rioters were members of the white working-class who were competing for low-wage jobs with free blacks.  Seeing them as a threat, the rioters attacked and killed many blacks as they ravaged the city.

One young black teenager was chased by rioters down 5^th Avenue.  Pelting him with stones as he ran, the group pursued him relentlessly.  As he turned the corner at 45^th Street, another group of rioters came from the opposite direction and tackled him to the ground.  The rioters beat him and barraged him with racial slurs, but then came officers O’Leary and Johnson.  The officers whacked the rioters with their clubs and sent them running off howling in pain and anger.

Officers O’Leary and Johnson quickly tended to the boy’s wounds and helped him to his feet.  He struggled to stand as pain shot through his body.

“What’s your name kid?” asked Officer Johnson.

“My name is Benjamin,” he said painfully.

“Hello Benjamin,” said Officer O’Leary.  “I’m Officer O’Leary, and this is Officer Johnson.  We’re going to bring you home safely, so could you tell us where you live?”

“I live at the Colored Orphan Asylum over on 5^th Avenue and 43^rd Street.”

“Well that’s only two blocks away,” said Officer O’Leary.  “Let’s hurry and get you back over there as quickly as possible.”

By this time, it was late afternoon, and the commotion continued throughout the city.  Officers O’Leary and Johnson escorted Benjamin back to the orphan asylum without any issues.  When they knocked on the orphanage door, an elderly woman answered the door, opening it only a crack and keeping the chain lock locked.

“Who is it?” she asked nervously.

Officer O’Leary spoke in a calm voice.  “We’re Officers O’Leary and Johnson from the police department.  We’ve come to bring back Benjamin.”

The woman quickly unlocked the chain lock and swung open the door.  “Benjamin!  We were so worried about you.  Don’t ever leave the orphanage again without telling us.  Oh my God, are you hurt?  What happened to you?”

She stroked her hands along Benjamin’s bruised and bloodied face.  She quickly turned her attention away from Benjamin and towards the officers.

“Thank you very much,” she said to the two of them.

“Just doing our job, ma’am,” said Officer Johnson.

Officer O’Leary glanced down 5^th Avenue and saw a massive wave of people approaching.  As they got closer, the mob seemed to get larger and grew much louder.  Some people in the crowd could be seen carrying torches.

“Look over there!” he yelled.  “That mob is headed straight for us.”

“Come inside, quickly!” said the woman, urgently escorting the officers and Benjamin into the building.

As they entered the building, they heard the laughter and footsteps of children as they ran around and played throughout the halls.  Staff members tried to get the children under control, but to no avail.  The yells of the nearing crowd grew louder and louder.

“How many children are housed here?” asked Officer Johnson.

“Two hundred and thirty-three,” said the woman.

The woman and the officers anxiously waited, hoping that the angry mob would pass.  Suddenly, a series of bangs were heard at the door followed by the shattering of glass windows.  The laughter of the children turned into screams of horror.

“We need to evacuate the building!” yelled Officer O’Leary.

They quickly assembled the orphan asylum staff and instructed them to gather all of the children on the ground floor.  Children ranging from toddlers to teenagers frantically rushed down the staircases from every floor, helped along by the staff and the officers.  When all of the children were brought down, the staff escorted the children to the back door of the building leading out to the alley.  Officer Johnson kicked down the door, and the children flooded out of the building, continuing their screams.

“Come along children,” said the elderly woman.  “Everyone out.”

Suddenly, the front door of the building burst open and the mob began to pour in.  Rioters began looting the building and destroying clothes and toys.  Outside, police officers who had assembled in front of the building did their best to barricade the door and hold back most of the mob.  They swung their clubs furiously through the air, beating anyone who tried to attack them.

A fire began to blaze when a torch was thrown into the building through one of the broken front windows.  Violent flames engulfed the building as toxic smoke filled the air.  Much of the mob dispersed as people fled the building to escape the smoldering flames.

As the flames raged, the children continued to frantically file out of the building through the back door.  Once everyone was out, the orphan asylum staff began to lead the children down the alley away from the building.  Suddenly, a cry was heard from back inside the building.

“Help,” a young male voice yelled.

“Oh my God!” screamed the elderly woman.  “Benjamin!”

Without hesitation, Officer O’Leary ran back into the building.  Avoiding falling beams of burning wood and coughing on the toxic fumes, he followed the boy’s cries.  As he neared the staircase, he saw the boy lying on the ground unable to move as flames approached him.  Officer O’Leary hauled Benjamin over his shoulder and dashed for the back door.  As he approached the door, he saw that a piece of wood had fallen and blocked the exit.

“Help!” he yelled, unsure if anyone could hear him.

“Look out,” he heard a voice yell back.

Suddenly, the piece of wood knocked to the ground and there stood Officer Johnson in the doorway.

“Hurry!” said Officer Johnson.

Officer O’Leary hustled out the door.  With Benjamin over his shoulder, he and Officer Johnson ran down the alley to get out of harm’s way and catch up with the others from the orphan asylum who had escaped.  They quickly glanced back and saw the flames erupting from the building.  A thick, black cloud of smoke rose into the sky.  In the distance, they heard the yells of the angry mob as people continued to riot through the streets of New York.  The officers knew it could be days before the state militia would arrive to help restore order.  At that moment, they wondered if this was their war.