The Assassinated Presidents

Until April 14, 1865, John Wilkes Booth was one of the most famous actors of his time, and President Abraham Lincoln had even watched him perform. But his most significant performance at a theater did not take place on the stage. That night, Booth became one of history’s most infamous assassins when he assassinated President Lincoln at Ford's Theatre in Washington, D.C.

After the shooting, during which it is believed he broke his leg, Booth fled south on horseback, with authorities hot on his tail. 12 days later, while he was at a farm in rural northern Virginia, Booth was tracked down and shot by Boston Corbett, a Union soldier who acted against orders. Eight others were tried for their alleged involvement in the plot and convicted, and four were hanged shortly thereafter as a result of some of the nation’s most famous trials.

In 1880, Garfield ran as a Republican for president, and one of his supporters was a man named Charles Guiteau, who wrote and circulated a speech called “Garfield vs. Hancock” that aimed to rally support for the Republican candidate. Though few knew it, Guiteau’s family had already deemed him insane and attempted to keep him committed in an asylum, only to have him manage an escape from confinement.

Despite lobbying around Republican headquarters in New York City and even approaching Cabinet members, no post was forthcoming for the troubled man. Eventually, in May 1881, Secretary of State James Blaine told him to never show up again. Enraged by the perceived slight, Guiteau bought a revolver and plotted to kill the president. He got his chance on July 2, 1881 at a railroad station, shooting Garfield in the back twice and bragging to the authorities, “I am a Stalwart of the Stalwarts…Arthur is president now!”

President James Garfield had been assassinated just 20 years earlier, but McKinley didn’t worry about presidential security or his own safety, and that was the case in Buffalo. McKinley’s insistence on greeting the public and shaking hands allowed Czolgosz to walk up to him on September 6, 1901 at a public reception in the Temple of Music on the expo grounds and shoot him point blank, with one bullet grazing the president and another lodging in his abdomen. In the aftermath of the shooting, as Czolgosz was beaten and seized by the crowd, he uttered, “I done my duty.” For his part, McKinley said, “He didn't know, poor fellow, what he was doing. He couldn't have known.”

Despite being president, McKinley’s medical services were shoddy, and given the still primitive medical standards of the early 20th century, gunshots to the abdomen often brought death. One of the best known aspects of the assassination is that Thomas Edison’s x-ray machine was on hand and may have been used to try to locate the bullet that doctors couldn’t find, but for reasons that remain unknown, the x-ray machine was not used.

In many ways, John Fitzgerald Kennedy and his young family were the perfect embodiment of the ‘60s. The decade began with a sense of idealism, personified by the attractive Kennedy, his beautiful and fashionable wife Jackie, and his young children. Months into his presidency, Kennedy exhorted the country to reach for the stars, calling upon the nation to send a man to the Moon and back by the end of the decade. In 1961, Kennedy made it seem like anything was possible, and Americans were eager to believe him. The Kennedy years were fondly and famously labeled “Camelot,” by Jackie herself, suggesting an almost mythical quality about the young President and his family.

As it turned out, the ‘60s closely reflected the glossy, idealistic portrayal of John F. Kennedy, as well as the uglier truths. The country would achieve Kennedy’s goal of a manned moon mission, and the landmark Civil Rights Act of 1964 finally guaranteed minorities their civil rights and restored equality, ensuring that the country “would live out the true meaning of its creed.”