American Experience (1988–…): Season 28, Episode 7 - Murder of a President - full transcript

Dear Mrs. Garfield...

This morning, while reading
one of the many accounts

of our dear president's heroism,

I was so overcome
that I thought I would write

and tell you how very,
very much I felt for you.

I have not offered
a single prayer

since our president
was first shot,

but that was for his recovery.

My papa and mama do not know
that I have written this,

but I felt I must do it.

Our dear president
has gone from our love



to the love of God
and his angels.

James Garfield had been
in office just 200 days.

Already, many Americans
had come to see

in his youth, brilliance,
and kindness

the makings
of a truly great president.

But now he was dead,
brought down by an assassin

and, some believed,
his own doctors.

Garfield is on the floor
of the station.

So someone finds an old
horsehair and hay mattress.

They put the president on that
and take him to a room upstairs.

Doctor, what do you need?

Blankets.

You!

Go!



Garfield's first concern was
for his wife, Lucretia.

Sir, what can I do?

Lucretia...

Tell her I'm all right.

He wanted to make sure that

when she heard about this,
she heard it from him.

Don't you worry.

I'll send a telegram.

Let me through, please!

Please, it's Dr. Bliss!

I know the man!

Let him in!

Within minutes,

ten different physicians
rush to the train station.

Gently!

Easy...

Flesh wound on the right arm.

Entry wound in the back.

They didn't know the exact track
of the bullet.

They couldn't tell

how much damage it had done.

I'm worried about his liver.

Mr. President,
I have to probe for the bullet.

This is going to be painful.

Hold him steady, gentlemen.

Ready...

Easy...

Set him back down.

It's remarkable, sir.

I've done that
hundreds of times.

I've never seen a man
hold that steady.

Did you get it?

No.

Try to relax.

Lucretia...

James Garfield
wasn't born to greatness,

but to trouble and hardship.

Just before his second birthday,

a wildfire threatened
the family's homestead

on the Ohio frontier.

James's father saved the farm,
but died soon afterward.

His mother had little time
for grief.

Within days of the funeral,
she was working in the fields.

James would grow up
at the raw edge of poverty.

As he got older,

he absolutely detested
his station in life.

He had to face
the scorn and the pity

of people in the community.

When he was 16, he hired himself
out to a local farmer,

and the farmer's daughter
takes a liking to Garfield.

And the father says to Garfield

that no daughter of his
is going to be seen

with the likes of a poor boy
like him.

"To some men,"
Garfield would write,

"the fact that they
came up from poverty

"is a matter of pride.

I lament sorely that
I was born poor."

Books were rare
in James's world,

but those he did have
were read over and over

until he could recite them
from memory.

As a teenager,
Garfield was really intrigued

by a book
called The Pirates Own,

and he got this idea that he was
going to sail the high seas.

"My mother tried to turn my
attention in other directions,"

Garfield later recalled,

"but I formed the determination
to become a sailor.

The blue expanse seemed
a region of enchantment."

The ocean was
a long way from Ohio.

Although James dreamed
of the high seas,

he had to settle for work
as a crewman

on the Ohio and Erie canal.

He was on the canal one night,
and everyone else was asleep.

He slips
and he falls into the water,

and he's desperately thrashing
because he can't swim.

And he feels this rope
and he's pulling at it,

but he knows that he hadn't
tied it to anything on the boat.

But miraculously, it hooks

and he's able to pull himself
up onto the boat.

To his mind, God had wanted
to save him for a purpose,

and he was supposed to do
something larger with his life.

James's seafaring dreams
were cut short.

Six weeks after setting out,

he returned home,
deathly ill with malaria.

While he was recovering,

his mother, desperate to set
her son on a better path,

handed him her life savings.

Eliza Garfield's $17 were enough
for one term of college.

As James later recalled,

"No greener boy
ever started out to school."

He must have seemed very strange
on that campus.

He had coarse clothing,
he had bushy hair,

he was a confirmed rustic.

But he had a lot going for him,
too, at the same time.

He was very charismatic,

a tall man, broad shoulders,
piercing blue eyes,

and he was extremely
intelligent.

The Western Reserve
Eclectic Institute

transformed Garfield
from a rough canal man

into a passionate
and determined student.

When the money ran out,
he paid his way

by working as a janitor
and carpenter around the school.

As James's horizons widened,
his ambitions grew.

"I am resolved to make a mark
in the world," he wrote.

"There is some of the slumbering
thunder in my soul,

and it shall come out."

He had just made up his mind

that he was going to do better
than any other student.

And he got to a point

where he was smarter
than some of his teachers.

He was such
an extraordinary student

that by his second year,

instead of working
as the janitor,

they made him a professor

of literature, mathematics,
and ancient languages.

Among the students assigned

to Garfield's
Greek literature class

was Lucretia Rudolph,

the daughter of one
of the school's benefactors.

One day, when the students
gathered for a photograph,

James seized the opportunity.

Just before it was
about to be taken,

James whispered something
to the photographer

and he's able to slip in
right next to Lucretia.

And she's sort of surprised

that he would take
such liberties,

but that was
the kind of man he was.

For James and Lucretia,
love didn't come easily.

Although James proposed within
six months of their class photo,

both had lingering doubts.

They were emotionally
incompatible.

Garfield was very expressive,

and Lucretia was just too shy

to be openly affectionate
with him.

When they would come together,
she'd be very stiff and formal.

He writes to her saying,
"Won't you please loosen up?"

She responds
with a really remarkable letter

in which she lays out
her expectations

and what she wants
from this relationship.

They need to talk
about things together,

and she reserves the right
to be critical of him,

and he has to listen,
he has to hear her out.

They are both still filled
with doubt and uncertainty.

Despite their apprehensions,

Lucretia and James were married
on November 11, 1858.

Their first years
were miserable.

As Lucretia endured repeated
pregnancies and miscarriages,

James was usually absent,

pursuing a fledgling career
in politics.

Dear James, there are hours
when my heart almost breaks

with the cruel thought
that our marriage

is based upon
the cold, stern word "duty."

I hope time may teach me
to be satisfied

with the love you will teach
your heart to give.

He was an extremely selfish man
for those first years.

Garfield was just finding
his powers,

and he was finding just how
incredibly magnetic he was.

He's speaking,

and people are throwing flowers
and applauding him.

Women are falling all over him,
men are falling all over him.

That's pretty powerful.

Why does he want to stay home
with shy little Lucretia?

Just as Garfield's
political career

was getting off the ground,

the country plunged
into civil war.

My dear Crete,

the news is causing
great excitement.

It seems to me that
the wanton attack on Sumter

can result in nothing
but a long and bloody war.

I long to be in the strife
and help fight it out.

We must stand by the country
and sustain its authority.

James joined the Union Army
in 1861,

shortly after the outbreak
of hostilities.

With little training
and no experience,

he headed up a small regiment

sent to clear the Confederates
out of eastern Kentucky.

At the Battle of Middle Creek,

Garfield led his men
to an audacious victory.

The triumph brought him
a flash of fame.

What stayed with Garfield,
however,

was the memory of stepping
into a clearing

after the battle

and seeing what he thought
were sleeping soldiers.

His heart froze when he realized
that the young men were dead.

At that moment,
Garfield would recall,

something went out of him
that never came back...

"the sense
of the sacredness of life

and the impossibility
of destroying it."

Within weeks,

he was leading his men
through northern Alabama.

There, for the first time,

he came face to face
with slavery.

It's important to try
and get your head

into what it looked like

for these soldiers to go down

and see men and women
and children

literally imprisoned
on these plantations.

And Garfield had an incredibly
visceral reaction.

My dear Lucretia,

for two days, we've passed
splendid plantations

where slaves toil on
in the fields

and dare hardly look up at us.

We reached this place
early this morning.

A whole drove of slaves

came to the road and
shouted for joy, saying,

"Take us with you!

We will work,
we will do anything for you."

Slavery may have great charms
for the rich,

but no one can fail to see
that it is the poor man's bane.

Garfield became a true believer
in abolition

and in securing the rights
of freed slaves.

He put his life on the line
in the Civil War.

He fought in a number
of battles,

including some very tough ones.

And he was committed
to the cause.

This is my hope:

that when we shall return
to civil life,

there shall go up
an unrelenting cry for freedom.

If this shall ever be realized,

the thousands who have fallen
on the bloody field

or in the fever wards
of the hospitals

will not have died in vain.

Even as Garfield
was marching through Alabama,

his friends back in Ohio
put him up for election

as the Republican candidate

for the House
of Representatives.

Although he remained at the
front and never campaigned,

Garfield won handily
in November.

But when the time came to take
his seat at the end of 1863,

the war was at a critical stage,

and General Garfield was
reluctant to leave his men.

He went to see Abraham Lincoln,

and the president told him
in so many words

that he had enough generals

and that where he really needed
support at that point

was on Capitol Hill.

So that's where Garfield went.

As Garfield began
his congressional career,

the Goddess of Liberty was being
installed on the Capitol Dome,

and Union victory was in sight.

On January 31, 1865,

he voted for one of the most
important pieces of legislation

in the nation's history:

the 13th Amendment,
which abolished slavery.

Three months later,
the architect of that amendment

was shot down by an assassin.

My dear Lucretia,

my heart is so broken
with our great national loss

that I can hardly think
or write or speak.

It remains for us
to keep that faith,

to go forward in the great work
until it shall be completed.

This nation shall be saved
from its enemies.

Its glory shall be restored.

On the ruins
of slavery and treason,

the temples of freedom
and justice shall be built

and shall survive forever.

Tragedy struck at home, too.

James and Lucretia
were consumed with grief

when their eldest daughter Trot
died at the age of three.

Their marriage all but ended
soon afterward,

when James had an affair
with a woman in New York.

He came home
overwhelmed with guilt

and confessed his infidelity
to Lucretia.

She tells him
to confront this woman

and to tell her face to face
that it's over.

But later, she responds
almost sympathetically.

He thought at the time,

"I don't know if she can ever
really love me again."

But he began to realize
how strong she was.

And from that time on,

they were deeply,
deeply in love.

She had an unwavering
moral compass,

which Garfield admired
and learned from

and respected her for.

She had the ability
to draw out the best in him

and to draw him
out of his self-absorption

to be a better man.

We no longer love
because we ought to,

but because we do.

Were I free to choose
out of all the world

the sharer of my heart
and home and life,

I would fly to you and ask you
to be mine as you are.

On the evening of June 5, 1880,

Chicago's Grand Pacific Hotel
was bursting at the seams.

The Republican party was in town
to choose its candidate

for the upcoming
presidential election.

50,000 delegates,
reporters, and hangers-on

had streamed into the city.

They stuffed themselves
five and six into hotel rooms.

The unlucky ones
slept in hallways or saloons.

James Garfield had managed
to find a room,

but even he had to share
with a total stranger.

Excuse me. Sorry.

By the summer of 1880,
Garfield had become

the foremost Republican
in the House of Representatives.

Garfield had several assets
as a politician.

People trusted him

as someone who's not thinking
about their own career,

but thinking about what good
they can do for the country.

He was also just
an extraordinary public speaker.

He was confident, he was poised,
he was articulate,

and everyone said his speeches

were incredibly moving
and powerful.

Garfield was scheduled

to deliver
the nominating address

for a long-shot candidate,
fellow Ohioan John Sherman.

He hadn't finished
writing the speech...

His heart wasn't in it.

In fact, Garfield despaired

at the state of the whole
Republican party.

It had divided
into warring factions,

torn apart
by the convulsive changes

sweeping over the United States.

An industrial revolution

was dividing the country
along new lines.

For the first time,

more Americans were living
in cities than on farms.

Millions now worked in factories

where 14-hour days,
harrowing conditions,

and starvation wages
were common.

Meanwhile, those factories were
channeling unimaginable wealth

to a growing aristocracy.

By 1880, the inequalities
of capitalism were so vast

that they threatened
democracy itself.

Government was infected
by cynicism and corruption.

For Republicans
like James Garfield,

equality of opportunity

was still a central tenet
of their creed.

But another faction was coming
to dominate the party.

Known as the Stalwarts,

they coveted the spoils
of the new economy

and championed what was called
"machine politics,"

a system
of kickbacks and patronage

that made it hard for ordinary
people to get ahead.

The Stalwarts wanted former
president Ulysses S. Grant

to be the party's candidate
once again.

Although Grant
was personally honest,

his first two terms
had been rife with corruption,

and the Stalwarts
wanted more of the same.

Despite the opposition
of men like Garfield,

Grant was favored
to win the nomination.

Grant's main opponent
was James Blaine,

a charismatic senator.

There was bad blood between
the Grant and Blaine factions,

which was on full display during
their nominating speeches.

By the time the nominating
address for Grant was finished,

the Stalwarts
are all shouting for Grant.

It's reverberating
through the hall.

And Garfield has to give
a speech on behalf of Sherman.

He got up
and he started to talk about,

"Where is the real heart
of this convention?

"It's not here,
with all these powerful men.

"It's in each home,

"where Americans
are quietly and calmly

thinking about the future
of this country."

As Garfield was delivering
his address to the delegates,

he shouted, "And now,
gentlemen of the convention,

what do we want?"

From the midst of the crowd
came an unexpected answer:

"We want Garfield!"

Garfield tries to protest,

and he says, you know,
"I'm not even a candidate."

You know, "You can't nominate me
without my agreement."

And he's immediately
gaveled down.

For three days and 33 ballots,
the convention was deadlocked

between the Grant
and Blaine factions.

Then, on the 34th ballot,
exhausted delegates

began switching their votes
to Garfield.

Garfield had been a congressman
for 16 years.

He had personal contacts

with probably literally
most of the people in the room,

and they all knew him

as a moderate, open-minded,
intelligent person.

He was someone
that they trusted.

Two ballots later,
an astonished Garfield

found himself the Republican
candidate for president.

Garfield immediately
wrote to Lucretia,

asking her
if she was in agreement

with having this thrust on them.

Dear wife, if the result
meets your approval,

I shall be content.

The events of the past week
seem more and more unreal.

But I suppose I shall grow
accustomed to it after a while.

I ought to be now,

for I have had to travel fast
and think faster

ever since I have known you

just to keep
within seeing distance.

Back home in Ohio, Lucretia knew
that her life would change

and the life of her children,
and that his life would change,

and she worried about that
a great deal.

On the other hand, she thought
he was destined for greatness,

and she did not want to stand
in his way.

Garfield's candidacy heralded
a new direction for the party

and, many hoped,
for the country.

The nomination
of James Garfield in 1880

was not simply
a question of exchanging

one bearded 19th century
politician for another.

It was the difference

between machine politics
that served only a few

and a government
that would serve everybody.

Garfield would be
the representative

and the defender
of that vision of America.

In the wake of his
surprise nomination,

Garfield retreated to his farm
in Mentor, Ohio,

just 20 miles from the log cabin
where he had been born.

He made the most
of his enforced vacation,

tending to his farm

and relaxing with Lucretia
and the children.

During the 1880
presidential campaign,

he didn't do
a lot of campaigning.

Garfield is told by none other
than the sitting president,

Rutherford B. Hayes,
that the best thing he can do

is to just go home and not
say anything and look wise.

Garfield was deeply moved when
ordinary people started coming

from far and wide
just to see him.

In what came to be known
as front porch talks,

he would stand
on his wide veranda

speaking to enormous gatherings.

The most stirring moment came

when the members of a group
from an all-black university,

the Fisk Jubilee Singers,

stood before his farmhouse
and sang.

♪ Lord, I want
to live up yonder ♪

♪ In bright mansions above ♪

When the performance ended,

Garfield stood
to address the group.

"I tell you now," he said,

"that I would rather
be with you and defeated

than against you
and victorious."

While Garfield
bided his time in Ohio,

his campaign was being run
by party bosses in New York.

In 1880, New York
was twice as big

as any other city
in the country,

the center of commerce,
culture, and power.

The Democratic
and Republican parties

each ran fearsome
political machines there.

Republican headquarters

were located in a building
on Fifth Avenue,

which had become
a hive of activity.

Among those drawn
to the excitement

was a troubled drifter
recently arrived in town.

Charles Guiteau
had tried everything,

and he had failed at everything.

He'd failed at law, journalism,
debt collecting, and preaching.

Most recently, Guiteau had
become obsessed with politics.

He had written a speech
extolling Garfield's virtues

and managed to have it printed.

He thought that he was going
to be famous for it,

and he was going to be wealthy
and he was going to be beloved.

He believed that he was special,
that he was extraordinary,

and that God had something great
in mind for him.

But he was delusional.

He saw himself
completely differently

than everyone else saw him.

Guiteau had always believed that
God had great plans for him.

After spending his life trying
to divine God's intentions,

he had finally received a sign
on his way to New York.

They were crossing
the Long Island Sound at night

and there's a heavy fog,

when out of this
great dense fog and blackness

appears this steamship,
and they crash.

Guiteau listened to the screams
as the passengers

threw themselves and their
children into the water

to escape the flames.

He was rescued by a boat
that raced to the scene,

and arrived in Manhattan
a changed man.

Guiteau felt that it wasn't an
accident that he survived this;

it was divine intervention.

God had plucked him out
for a purpose.

And that purpose was
becoming clear to him.

For all the activity
at campaign headquarters,

it looked like Garfield
was headed for defeat.

The odds were almost
insurmountable

because of a radical change
in the South.

In the wake of the Civil War,

black men had been given
the right to vote,

a right enforced
by federal troops

stationed throughout the South.

Because African Americans
were intensely loyal

to the party of Lincoln,
Republican candidates

could count on carrying
several Southern states.

But by 1880,

most of those federal soldiers
had been withdrawn,

leaving white Southerners free
to suppress the black vote

through terror and violence.

As a result,
the Republican party

had been all but banished
from the old Confederacy.

For the first time in 1880,
you now had the solid South.

And the solid South
was backed up by violence,

intimidation, voter suppression,

all of the things
that would become Jim Crow.

Democrats could count on
16 Southern states;

Republicans 15 Northern ones.

The territories in the west
didn't vote.

That left seven states
undecided,

including the most populous
in the Union.

New York is where the election
would be decided.

And New York belonged
to Senator Roscoe Conkling.

Roscoe Conkling was arguably

the most powerful man
in America at that time.

He was the senior senator
from New York,

and he hated Garfield

because Garfield wanted
to reform the spoils system,

and the spoils system was
the source of Conkling's power.

As the leader of the Stalwarts,

Conkling had opposed Garfield's
nomination at the convention.

Now Garfield needed his support.

He first tried
to win Conkling over

by offering the vice presidency
to Chester Arthur.

Chester Arthur's
most important attribute

was that he was a right-hand man
of Roscoe Conkling.

He has never elected office.

He is not in any way

a very serious thinker
or a very serious person.

But Garfield was trying
to soothe Conkling's feelings.

Conkling was so angry
at this point,

he was prepared
to sit out the election.

So for Garfield to have
any hope of winning,

he needed to get Conkling
in the game,

and that meant cutting a deal.

At the beginning of August,

Garfield braced himself
for a trip to New York.

The real agenda was a quiet
negotiation with Conkling

in his offices
at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.

Everyone knew what Conkling
wanted in return:

control of the New York
Customs House.

The New York Customs House

was not only
one of the most important

financial institutions
in the country,

it was also
one of the most important

political institutions
in the country.

This was the period
before the modern income tax,

so the federal government
was funded by tariffs,

by import fees.

And some 70% to 80% of all
imports coming into America

came in through the port
of New York.

The New York Customs House

accounted for one third
of the country's entire revenue.

Incredible amounts of money
that are coming in,

and Conkling can use that

to give out jobs
and to win loyalty.

As Garfield made his way east,
he was wary.

The Customs House was the source
of Conkling's power,

and he used that power

to undermine
the last two presidents.

Somehow, Garfield had to avoid
enabling such a dangerous rival.

Garfield made the pilgrimage
to New York,

and Roscoe Conkling
stood him up,

which caused a major stir,
since everyone kind of knew

that he was the one
who was making the demands.

Garfield had no option

but to deal
with Conkling's underlings,

led by Chester Arthur.

However much he resented
being snubbed,

Garfield couldn't leave New York

without some sort of agreement
with the Stalwarts.

Mr. Garfield,

Senator Conkling is willing
to support your campaign.

But he wants certain assurances.

What exactly happened
in that hotel room

is one of the great mysteries
of the campaign.

And what Conkling understood
to have come out of the meeting,

having talked
with several of the people

who sat through the meeting,

was that Garfield
had promised him control

of the New York Customs House.

Garfield's understanding
was that he had fudged it,

that he had worded
his answers in a way

that were something
less than promises.

Gentlemen...

One way or another,

Garfield secured the backing
of Conkling and the Stalwarts.

With that done, they joined
the Republican faithful

who were gathering downstairs
for a rally.

Among them
was the strange young man

from campaign headquarters.

I think you're
on the right track.

Very good, very good.

Have I had the pleasure?

Charles Guiteau.

You know me...
We met at headquarters.

Ah!

Oh.

This is my speech.

Ah.

I can help you.

I can help you.

We're grateful for your help,
Mr. Guiteau.

Gentlemen.

I'll see you at headquarters!

Charles Guiteau.

Guiteau had made good use
of his time in New York,

introducing himself
to Republican leaders

and even delivering
a few speeches.

If Guiteau could help
elect the president,

he was sure that
he would be rewarded.

And his efforts
seemed to be paying off

when the New York Times
listed him

alongside party luminaries.

Garfield's trip culminated
in an address to 50,000 people

gathered opposite the hotel
in Madison Square Park.

It was his only major speech
of the campaign.

Garfield chose to take a stand

on the issue closest
to his heart:

the fate of ex-slaves
in the South.

Gentlemen, ideas outlive men.

Ideas outlive all human things.

And all that we mean today

by our meeting
as veterans and comrades...

By 1880, many Northerners felt

they had sacrificed enough
for African Americans.

Now they wanted only to heal
the scars left by the war,

even if it meant
abandoning former slaves

to the mercy
of their former masters.

Garfield was determined
to turn back that tide.

We have seen white men
betray the flag

and fight to kill the Union,

but in all that long
and dreary war,

you never saw a traitor
under a black skin.

In all that period
of terror and distress,

no Union soldier
was ever betrayed

by any black man anywhere.

As long as we live, we'll stand
by these black allies of ours.

Garfield believed
that every man,

African American
as well as white American,

should have a say
in his government.

Every man
should be able to vote,

to protect his property,

protect his labor, and protect
his destiny in America.

We will stand by them until
the equal sunlight of liberty

shall shine upon every man,
black or white, in the Union.

Citizens of New York,

thank you for this
magnificent demonstration.

Thank you, thank you.

On October 25,
Cooper Union in New York City

filled to overflowing.

The crowd had come

to hear the most famous
black man in America,

former slave Frederick Douglass.

"James Garfield must be
our president," Douglass said.

"Colored men, I know Garfield.

"He is right on our questions,
take my word for it.

"He has shown us how man
in the humblest circumstances

can grapple with man,
rise, and win."

On November 2, Garfield cast
his vote in Mentor's town hall.

The next morning,
he awoke to learn

that he was the 20th President
of the United States.

Every state
in the old Confederacy

had voted for the Democrats,

while most of the North
had gone with Garfield.

Sure enough,
the difference in the election

was Roscoe Conkling's New York.

On the morning of March 4, 1881,

100,000 people braved the cold

and made their way
to the Capitol.

Meanwhile, the president-elect
prepared for his inauguration,

along with the rest
of the presidential party.

Frederick Douglass had the honor
of leading the procession,

but no one was prouder

than the president's
79-year-old mother.

Three decades before,

Eliza Garfield had given James
her life savings

so that he could go to college.

Now she was the toast
of Washington,

with a gown to match.

At precisely noon,

Frederick Douglass led the
procession out onto the portico.

James Garfield took the oath

and delivered the address he had
finished just hours before.

Then, he and Lucretia
spent the afternoon

reviewing the inaugural parade.

After the formal reception
that night,

the Garfields stayed
in the White House

for the first time,
sleeping, as James wrote,

"Too soundly
to remember any dream."

Garfield was well-acquainted
with the ways of Washington,

but nothing could have
prepared him

for the flood of office seekers
that inundated the White House.

Anyone who had done anything
for the campaign

showed up to collect his reward,

and that included the man
who could most honestly claim

to have put James Garfield
in the White House.

Senator Conkling!

What on earth is that?

It's a typewriter.

They're going to replace pens.

Watch.

Hm.

I'll let the president know
you're here.

Incredible.

Today, the number
of political appointments

that an incoming president
has to fill

is maybe 2,000 or 3,000.

In 1880, the number of political
appointments was over 80,000.

And Roscoe Conkling
had come to collect.

The president will see you now.

And on his agenda was
the New York Customs House.

So, how do you like
your new digs?

They come with a lot
of new friends.

A man has to look
after his friends.

Indeed.

And I intend to do so.

Well, that's fine.

What do you have in mind?

Levi Morton
as minister to France.

Oh!

Well, if Levi wants
to be put out to pasture,

that's all well and good.

It's a nice pasture.

Stewart Woodford
for U.S. Attorney,

Louis Payn
for Marshal Southern District,

and I've asked Tom James
to be Postmaster General.

Mm.

Well, this is all to the good,
but it's not why we're here.

Senator, I will look out
for your interests,

but I am the president.

And you wouldn't be
if it weren't for me.

I'm sure we can reach
some sort of accommodation.

You will have plenty of friends
in this administration,

and you have Mr. Arthur
right here in the White House.

With all due respect,
I didn't fight the election

in order to make Chester Arthur
vice president.

We all fought the election.

If you'll excuse me.

There are other people
who need my attention.

We are not done here.

What are you going to do
with the New York Customs House?

I can't make any promises

at the moment.

You made promises last August!

I said that I would look out
for your interests.

Then do that, sir.

You just keep in mind
that your administration

will be no more successful
than I wish it to be.

If Garfield was going
to implement his vision

of a just and equal America,

he would first have to win
control of his own party.

"Of course I deprecate war,"
he wrote a friend.

"But if it is brought
to my door,

the bringer
will find me at home."

Senator Conkling?

Senator Conkling!

Not now!

Convinced that he, too,

had played a key role in getting
the president elected,

Charles Guiteau had decided
on the appropriate payment:

he was going to be
the next consul to Paris.

May I?

Already, Guiteau had become
a familiar face

at the White House.

Garfield's secretary remembered
seeing him at least 15 times.

At a White House reception,

Guiteau had crept up
behind Lucretia

to hand her his calling card,

carefully pronouncing his name
so that she wouldn't forget him.

He's going to the White House
every day,

he's going to the State
Department every day.

He's sitting in the park
outside of the White House

waiting for Garfield,

waiting for any chance
to convince the president

that he deserves
the consulship to Paris.

Congratulations
on your victory, sir.

We cleaned them out,
just like I thought we would.

Thank you.

What can I do for you?

I'm here about
the Paris consulship.

The Paris consulship?

This is a speech I gave
in New York.

It was sent
to all the leading editors

and orators in August.

Very soon thereafter,
they took up the ideas therein...

The very ideas that resulted
in your election.

Well, thank you, sir.

So, it's settled then?

I'll look into it.

Charles Guiteau.

Paris.

Thank you, sir.

Thank you.

A troubled soul.

I think that's the best way
to describe him.

And he took those troubles
everywhere he went.

Guiteau grew up with a father

who, by our standards,
would be an abusive parent,

physically, psychologically
terrorizing his children.

But he did it
in the name of religion.

Guiteau's mother died
when he was very young,

so he had no one to turn to
but his father.

But Charles wasn't what his
father had expected in a son.

Guiteau was awkward,
and he stammered.

His sister, his sister Francis,
would never forget

when she heard her father
yelling at Charles,

"Say the word,"

and Charles would stammer,
and he would beat him.

"Say it!"

He couldn't say it,
and he would hit him again.

"Say it," hit him again.

And she heard this
just repeated,

going on and on and on.

But Charles still wanted
to please his father,

so he fell into this
religious zealotry as well.

And that's what led him
to this commune.

Oneida was a biblical community
in upstate New York.

It was founded by John Humphrey
Noyes and his followers

with an idea of perfecting
human relationships.

Noyes was a champion
of free love,

so men and women could choose
to have multiple sex partners.

And there were rules
about how you did this.

Unfortunately, Charles Guiteau

could not master the intricacies
of these rules,

so while he's there,
he forms no bonds at all.

He was that disturbed
and disturbing.

It was a very lonely life
that he led.

He moved from boarding house
to boarding house,

always slipping out
before the rent was due.

The whole story of his life

is kind of moving
from one place to another,

trying to realize this dream
of being God's chosen.

In 1881,

Washington was no longer
the small, provincial city

that Garfield had known
as a young Congressman.

In the last 20 years, the city's
population had almost tripled.

Entire neighborhoods
had sprung up near the Capitol,

home to the multitudes

who worked in the bulging
government departments

to the north of the Mall.

The breakneck growth had given
Washington a ramshackle feel.

The White House itself
was falling apart.

Rugs covered holes
in the floors,

and at night,
the Garfields could hear rats

scampering in the walls
and under the floorboards.

Even worse was the marsh

that bordered the residence's
South Lawn,

where the Potomac looped

around the half-finished
Washington Monument.

Raw sewage in the river coated
the air with a heavy stench

that was inescapable
during the hot summer months.

But for the Garfields,

the White House was the saving
grace of the presidency.

In their first five years
of marriage,

James had been home
for just five months.

Now, the family lived together
in a cherished sanctuary.

No matter the pressures of work,
home was always close by.

Even on the busiest days,
the president found time

to check in
on his five children.

He would drag his teenage sons
Jim and Harry out of bed...

Time to get up!

Give 14-year-old Mollie
a quick hug

before she ran off to school,

and warn young Irvin and Abraham

about racing through the
corridors on their bicycles.

The White House
was the family home

James and Lucretia
had always longed for.

Well, thank God for Mother.

I do, every day.

On the morning of May 3, 1881,

the comforting routine
was upended

when Lucretia woke with a fever.

As her temperature shot up
to 104 degrees,

James sent for four
different doctors.

They confirmed that
she had malaria,

a constant danger for those
living near the Potomac swamps.

Lucretia was moved to a room
on the north side of the house

to get her further
from the river air.

Garfield sat with her
through the nights,

but could do little to help.

Within a week, Lucretia was
hovering at the brink of death,

and her husband had all but
disappeared from public view.

All my thoughts center on her.

If I thought
her return to health

could be ensured
by my resigning the presidency,

I would not hesitate a moment
about doing it.

Despite the deepening crisis
in the White House,

there was no let-up in the war

between Garfield
and Roscoe Conkling.

The president had fired
the opening shot

soon after their
White House meeting,

when he appointed one
of Conkling's bitterest enemies

to head the Customs House.

As Americans waited for word
of the First Lady's condition,

Conkling plotted his revenge,

and the opposition press
savaged Garfield.

"The president
of the United States

"has been making a use
of his official powers

which justifies his removal
in disgrace from office."

Who's that?

Herald.

"Garfield has done
some of the worst things

"that a man in power
can possibly do,

which justifies his removal
from office."

I'm going to resign.

What are you talking about?

I'm going to resign
my Senate seat.

Why?

You've got Garfield
on the ropes.

Listen.

If I resign, what happens next?

The state senate
appoints a replacement.

Exactly.

I resign, the press
keeps tearing him apart.

Soon enough, my friends
in the New York legislature

vote overwhelmingly to send me
right back to the Senate.

I'll show him
who runs this place.

The timing isn't good.

There's lots of sympathy
for the First Lady.

That'll pass.

I don't know.

I do.

Conkling resigned his seat
in the U.S. Senate.

Garfield reacted to the news
with a shrug.

It was, he wrote in his diary,

"a very weak attempt
at the heroic."

If Conkling and Arthur felt
that Garfield had betrayed them,

so did Charles Guiteau.

In the middle of May,

Garfield's close ally,
Secretary of State James Blaine,

told Guiteau that he would never
be the consul to Paris.

Guiteau is stunned,
and he's furious,

and he goes back
to his little boarding house

and his little cot in that room,

and he feverishly thinks
about it and thinks about it

and grows more and more angry.

And then he has what he believes
is a divine inspiration.

God says to Guiteau,

"You need to kill
the president."

Or "remove him," as he said.

"You've got to get rid of him,
and then you will be rewarded."

And it's at that point
he starts planning.

The first thought
that Guiteau has is that

he is going to be famous.

So, he buys the fanciest gun
he can afford

because he thinks,
"Well, you know,

it's of course going to be
in a museum someday."

And then he goes to the banks
of the Potomac to practice,

because he's never even shot
a gun before.

Guiteau thinks,

"Can this really be God
talking to me?"

And God just kept saying,
"That's what you've got to do.

You've got to kill
the president."

You would think that after
the Lincoln assassination,

people would have decided that

there should be guards
around the presidents.

Au contraire.

Very strong belief that,

because the United States
was a democracy,

that if you didn't
like your leaders,

you would simply kick them
out of office.

Assassination was unnecessary.

The Lincoln assassination
in 1865

was viewed as really an anomaly.

Nobody gave much thought
to the idea

that a president
could be assassinated

outside of a context
like the Civil War.

So James Garfield can
walk out of the White House

and walk down the street
by himself.

Guiteau had opportunities
to strike.

Lucretia had finally
recovered enough

that the couple could be seen
taking rides around the city.

And when she was leaving
Washington to convalesce

at the New Jersey shore,
Guiteau trailed her and James

to the train station.

He had a clear shot,
but was overcome with sympathy

for the First Lady,
and couldn't pull the trigger.

Guiteau follows him everywhere.

He even follows him to church.

He sits behind Garfield,
and he disagrees

with something
the minister says,

and he shouts out.

And Garfield that night

writes in his diary
about this young man,

you know, shouting in church.

Guiteau is absolutely
spinning out of control.

To the American people:

I conceived the idea
of removing the president,

because he has proven a traitor
to the men that made him.

This is not murder,
it is a political necessity.

This will make my friend
Arthur president,

and save the republic.

I expect President Arthur
and Senator Conkling

will give the nation the finest
administration it has ever had.

By the beginning of July,
Roscoe Conkling was in trouble.

He had given up his Senate seat,

but nothing had gone
according to plan.

There was no tidal wave
of support,

and it looked like
the New York legislature

might not vote him back
to the Senate at all.

We've lost Platt.

Change his mind.

It's too late for that.

Who else do you have?

We don't have the votes.

I've played every angle...

It was hubris.

He believed that he was
so powerful and so important

that no one would dare
to lose him.

He could resign and people
would beg him to come back.

Three months
into Garfield's presidency,

Roscoe Conkling's political
career was hanging by a thread.

His only hope of regaining power
was his connection

to the vice president.

Conkling's demise
transformed the outlook

for Garfield's presidency.

He had all but destroyed
his most dangerous adversary.

Now that he was in control
of his own party,

the president might realize
the dream he had proclaimed

during the campaign,

that "the equal sunlight
of liberty should shine

upon every man, black
or white, in the Union."

The clouds had
parted everywhere.

Lucretia was well again,

and waiting for him
in New Jersey.

It's been such
an incredibly stressful

and difficult four months.

And he's so looking forward
to this opportunity to get away

from Washington
and the White House.

Hail the conquering hero!

Mr. Blaine!

You've vanquished your enemies,

and now you're being reunited
with your bride.

It's a red letter day
at the White House, sir.

I was raised to be wary
of good fortune,

but I can't help feeling
a little bullish today.

And so you should,
after the fight you've had.

You'll have to excuse me,

but I'm due
at the train station.

I'd like to have a word with you

about Vice President Arthur.

Why don't you come along?

Charles Guiteau had read
about the president's trip

in the newspaper.

It was the opportunity
he had been waiting for.

That's enough.

I have an appointment.

That morning,
he had risen early,

taken a stroll
in Lafayette Park,

eaten a hearty breakfast,

then walked across town

to the Baltimore and Potomac
Railway Station.

In his pocket were two letters:

one to William Tecumseh Sherman,
Chief of the Army,

and the other addressed
to the White House.

The president's tragic death
is a sad necessity,

but it will unite
the Republican party,

and save the republic.

I presume the president
is a Christian

and that he will be happier
in paradise than here.

It will be no worse
for Mrs. Garfield

to part with her husband
this way than by natural death.

He is thinking my life
is going to change now too.

I'm going to be famous
and I'm going to get everything

that I deserve, that I've
been entitled to for so long.

There he goes!

Grab him!

That's him, that's him!

Get him!

Arthur will be president!

The news of the shooting
spread very quickly.

The practice back then
was that newspapers

would have bulletin boards
and they would take

the latest telegraphed messages
from Washington

about this or anything else
and post them out front.

And those bulletin boards
quickly started attracting

very large crowds.

Within an hour or so
of the shooting

you saw newspaper extra editions
starting to appear

in the big cities.

So it didn't take long
for news of the shooting

to reach the American public.

People are starting
to hear reports

even as the first examinations
of Garfield's wounds

were being done on the floor
of the train station.

We've got to get him back
to the White House.

How do we know
it's safe out there?

Did you see the gunman? Yes.

Was he alone?

I don't know.

Obviously there's
great confusion.

They don't know how many people
might be out there

trying to commit assassinations.

There's any number
of possible conspiracies here.

Lucretia was in her hotel room
in Elberon, New Jersey,

preparing
for her husband's arrival,

when a messenger appeared
at the door with a telegram.

"There has been an accident,"
he told her.

Perhaps she should return
to Washington.

Within the hour,
she was on a special train,

speeding back
to the White House.

But eighteen miles
from Washington,

the First Lady encountered
an excruciating delay,

when her train's locomotive
came apart

and almost jumped the rails.

It would be hours
before she had any hope

of reaching her husband.

An hour after the shooting,

Garfield insisted that
he didn't want to die

on the floor
of a railway station.

The president was carried
outside to a makeshift ambulance

and driven back
to the White House.

There are soldiers
all over the lawn.

Stay away from the windows...

We don't know who's out there.

Garfield is
in excruciating pain.

He's had his wound probed again
and again and again.

He's been vomiting repeatedly
ever since the shooting,

so he's intensely dehydrated.

He was able to ask asked
one of the doctors,

"What do you think my chances
of survival are?"

And he said, you know,
"They're not good."

A pinch...

They didn't know
where the bullet was

and they believed that
he would not survive the night.

As Garfield's
prospects darkened,

attention turned to Vice
President Chester Arthur,

who was travelling to New York
with Roscoe Conkling.

They were just getting
off the boat in New York City

that morning when they
heard the word

that Garfield had been shot.

There weren't a lot
of details available,

and when they got
to the Fifth Avenue Hotel...

That's where they were staying...

They were surrounded
by reporters.

There he is!

Mr. Vice President!
Mr. Vice President!

Mr. Vice President,
the assassin said

that he shot President Garfield

on your behalf.

What do you have to say?

What are you talking about?

"Arthur will be president"...
Those were his words.

Look, I don't know

who this man is.

We're needed upstairs.

Do you have anything to say

about the death threats?

What? The hotel has received

several threats to your lives.

We have to go.

The idea that
this corrupt puppet

might become president
is just unbelievable.

Across the country
people are rising up in anger,

believing that Chester Arthur
wants nothing more

than for Garfield to die
so he can get his hands

on the presidency,
with Conkling behind him.

There was plenty of fodder
for conspiracy theories,

starting with
the gunman himself.

As Washington descended
into chaos,

Charles Guiteau was taken
to a cell in the district jail.

Ever since he shot
the president,

he had been telling anyone
who would listen

about his connections
to Chester Arthur.

Don't you worry, my friend.

You stick to me.

Arthur and all those men
are my friends,

and I'll have you made
chief of police.

Guiteau genuinely believes

that Arthur will reward him,

pardon him and give him a job,
and view him as a hero.

Guiteau was jubilant.

He had executed his plan
in his mind to perfection.

He sat there fully expecting
that they were gonna remove him

from jail, and celebrate
his having ridded the republic

of this bad president.

All day, Garfield
had been afraid

that he would die without
seeing Lucretia once more.

Time and again
he asked after her.

For Lucretia, the day had been
an agony of suspense

as she struggled
to reach her husband.

When Lucretia arrives
at the White House

she was still frail
from her malaria,

but she summons up the strength
to see her husband.

Garfield starts talking
to his wife about plans

for the future without him
and she says,

"No, do not speak again
of death,

I am here to nurse you
back to life."

Within 24 hours of the shooting,

more than a dozen doctors
had examined the president.

But one of them had clearly
taken charge.

Mrs. Garfield.

I'm Doctor Bliss.

Oh, Doctor.

I am very grateful.

Mr. Garfield speaks
highly of you.

Please, it's an honor
to serve such a man.

Your husband is
a remarkable patient.

His courage and fortitude
are almost unique.

I've always thought so.

He has rallied against all odds.

But in order for him to heal,

he needs rest and isolation.

This is why I have
screened off his bed,

and prohibited visitors.

Of course.

Now madam, may I advise you

to go and get some rest.

I can't leave him.

When I was ill,

he was at my bedside
night and day.

Precisely.

You're still in delicate health.

You mustn't fall ill again,

for your sake, and for his.

It is a comfort to know

he is in such capable hands.

That morning,
Dr. Bliss sent a letter

to the other physicians,
informing them

that their services
were no longer necessary.

They all respected
what they assumed

to be the president's wishes.

With that, Dr. Bliss gained
complete control of the case,

and of the information
reaching the public.

As the weeks passed, it appeared
that Garfield had been spared,

and his recovery was
in good hands.

Grateful Americans flooded
the White House with letters

of support, prayer, and advice.

Dear Mr. President,

the employees of
the Southwest freight station

of the Philadelphia, Wilmington
and Baltimore Railroad

tender their sincere
congratulations

on your escape from death
and earnestly pray

for your recovery.

The Point Chautauqua Baptist
Union hereby give expression

to their profound admiration
for the fortitude

and sublime Christian faith
of the president.

Dear President,
I am a young man,

and I've always felt
that you were a true friend

to young men educationally,
morally,

religiously, and politically.

Sir, the citizens of Newport
invite you to become

their guest and to receive
their hospitality

during your convalescence.

Our citizens will place at your
disposal a suitable residence,

and whatever may be necessary
or convenient for you,

while you will consent
to tarry with us.

Sir, I send you two woodcocks
killed by myself

on the battlefield of Monocacy
expressly for you.

They were killed 3:30.

I hope you will enjoy them.

Mr. Garfield, I watched very
careful your sickness

since the time you was shot,
and feel very happy

at the good news that you are
getting better every day now.

We pray that you will soon
be able to watch over

our great country again.

Garfield's immune system
was fighting back sufficiently

that he did seem to improve.

He also became more optimistic,

his family became
more optimistic,

despite the trauma
of the shooting.

I hope the dangers
are nearly passed.

My heart is full of gratitude,

so full that I have no words
wherewith to express it.

Lucretia Garfield becomes
a very important figure

during the summer of 1881.

There's a great outpouring
of sympathy and support

for the president,
and for the first lady as well.

She's almost always by his side,

she's in the White House
with him,

she's taking care of him,

trying to nurse him
back to health.

Mollie won't like that,

they've made her look
very strange.

Never mind Mollie,

please tell me
I don't look like this!

Pulse 106.

Sir, they've done Mrs. Garfield
a great injustice.

Thank you, doctor.

Just one shot...

Very good.

And a little...

Yes, good.

Now, try to relax.

Mrs. Garfield.

Silas!

How is he?

He's so much better.

We've been spared.

Doctor Bliss,
I'd like to introduce

a family friend,

and the president's cousin,
Dr. Silas Boynton.

Dr. Bliss.

Dr. Boynton.

I hope you don't mind,
I asked him to come.

Certainly.

But I'm afraid you've
wasted your time, Doctor,

the crisis has passed.

I hope you don't mind
if Dr. Boynton stays.

It would be a comfort
to see a familiar face...

Of course, madam.

But we're due to change
the president's dressings,

so you might both want
to step outside.

I would very much like to
observe, if you don't mind.

As you wish.

Thank you so much
for coming, Silas.

Give me a hand here, will you?

Sir, this won't take
but just a second.

Easy...

Very good, sir.

We're just gonna
change your dressing...

Bliss, like most of the doctors
in the United States,

didn't really even believe
in germs at that time.

They wouldn't even change
or wash their surgical aprons.

They felt that
the more blood and pus

that was encrusted on them,
the more experience it showed.

The germ theory was in the air,

but it was still a theory.

One of the most important
popularizers of germ theory

was a Scottish surgeon
named Joseph Lister,

who said to himself,

"if there are living germs
in the air

"while surgeons are operating,

"that could be the source
of wound infections.

"So I am going to experiment
as a surgeon

by using disinfectant."

And he chose carbolic acid
as his disinfectant of choice.

So antisepsis was
the removal of germs.

It's what the...
what the phrase meant.

He does this starting
in the mid-1860s

and he sees
a spectacular reduction

in post-operative infection.

By the early 1870s there's
an awareness of Lister's theory

and Lister's technique.

Did everyone believe Lister?

No.

Like many other doctors,

Bliss believed that antisepsis
was still too unproven,

and he's not going to risk
the president's health

on any sort of newfangled
medical idea.

He thought it was ridiculous
to fear something

you couldn't even see.

Good sir, good.

You just get some rest.

The wound looks inflamed.

Have you cleaned it?

Doctor, shall we go over
the prognosis?

Dr. Boynton, you may be
the president's cousin,

but he is my patient.

What are you talking about?

What is the nature
of your practice?

I don't have a practice.

I teach at the Women's
Homeopathic Medical College

in Cleveland.

And what experience do you have

with gunshot wounds?

None to date.

I have been practicing
for 36 years,

including two years
as chief of surgery

at the Armory Hospital
here during the war.

I don't know
what the war was like

for you in Cleveland,

but my lighter duties included

treating thousands
of gunshot wounds.

So: you may observe.

But you will not interfere,

and you will not
offer your opinions

in front of the president

or Mrs. Garfield.

Do you understand? Dr. Bliss...

The president has appointed me

as his personal physician.

I think we should
trust his judgment.

Dr. Bliss had a genuine
affection for Garfield.

They had been friendly
growing up in Ohio,

and had both survived
the crucible of the Civil War.

During the war, Bliss had risen
to the top echelons

of the Army's medical
department.

But afterward his career
was almost destroyed

by Washington's
medical establishment,

in part because he took
an interest

in the new field of homeopathy.

Publicly branded a quack,
Bliss lost his practice

and his reputation.

One the few men who stood
by him in that dark hour

was Representative
James Garfield.

Bliss renounced homeopathy,
but it took years

to recover his reputation.

He emerged from the experience
deeply reluctant

to embrace new ideas
in medicine.

Bliss gave no credence
to the warnings

about cleanliness coming
from Boynton and others.

Instead, he administered
morphine every day,

along with brandy
and an assortment of rich foods,

which Garfield
was unable to keep down.

Rather than trying
a simpler diet,

Bliss began feeding
the president rectally,

with beef bouillon, warmed milk,
egg yolk, and a little opium.

By then, the wound
in Garfield's back

had been probed more
than a dozen times

with unwashed fingers
and instruments.

Bliss wasn't overly concerned
about the president's fever.

And he thought it a good sign
when the wound

began producing what he called
"laudable" pus.

The aggressive probing
for the bullet

created a channel
in the president's flesh

that became the portal

for disease-causing bacteria

to gain access deep
into his body.

From the outset, Americans'
sympathy for the president

had been matched only
by their fascination

with the would-be assassin.

And Charles Guiteau
was only too willing

to indulge that curiosity.

I don't want to appear
strained or awkward.

He felt that now
he was going to be famous.

And he took
full advantage of it.

He gave every
interview he could.

He sat for portraits.

He wrote his autobiography,

which he sent to the New York
Herald to be published.

Okay.

He even made it known
that he was looking for a wife...

He hoped to find
a wealthy young woman.

Hold that.

He believed that the American
people were with him.

Okay.

He was rational on some level,

but so profoundly irrational
on others.

The pattern suggests
schizophrenia,

possibly paranoid schizophrenia.

There has also been speculation

that, as a young man,
he contracted syphilis.

Mental hospitals
in the late 19th century

were filled with patients
in the later stages

of cerebral
syphilitic infection.

Make sure you get the right
expression on my face and eyes.

All right, hold that.

I will, of course,
expect a $25 royalty.

Guiteau was still confident
that Chester Arthur

would reward him
when he finally took office.

This time there
would be no doubt

about who had
made the president.

In fact, few people
still believed that Arthur

had been involved
in the shooting.

But that didn't mean they wanted
him in the White House.

Americans are horrified.

They think that Chester Arthur
is going to get into office,

he's going to turn everything
over to Roscoe Conkling,

his friend and buddy,

and they're going
to run the country,

just pillaging, essentially,
as they go.

In fact, Arthur is terrified.

He's hiding away in a house
of a friend,

a senator who's left the city
for the summer.

And no one knows where he is.

By late July, the United States
had been effectively

without a president
for almost a month.

The Constitution offered
no guidance

and there was no precedent.

Secretary of State Blaine
had asked Arthur to take over

the president's
responsibilities,

but the vice president refused.

He just disappears,

and a journalist finally
tracks him down.

He's walking through the house
searching for him.

What are you doing?

I'm sorry to bother you, sir.

James Norton
from the New York Times.

May I?

Chester Alan Arthur is being
forced to really take a look

in the mirror at himself,
at his behavior,

at the way the Stalwarts
had affected the country.

Arthur at this point had to make
one of those real choices

about what kind of person
is he going to be.

Senator Conkling has dominated

the last two presidents.

Do you think you can
you stand up to him?

I am vice president.

President Garfield
is fighting for his life.

We should all pray
for his deliverance.

Good day, sir.

But sir, do you think
you could explain...

Good day, sir.

Garfield is holding his own
for a couple of weeks,

but then at the end of July the
level of infection escalates.

He's racked by fevers,
he's racked by chills.

Abscesses start popping up
all over.

These are all classic symptoms
of massive septicemia...

Septic blood from the bacteria
that is growing in his body

and then releasing
their toxic byproducts.

On the 23rd of July,
three weeks after the shooting,

Garfield suddenly
began suffering

what were called "rigors"...
Chills, fevers, delirium.

As the crisis escalated,
Doctor Bliss began resorting

to ever more extreme measures,
including isolation so complete

that Garfield had no view
of the outside world,

and was rarely allowed
to see his children.

With the president hidden
from public view,

Americans saw the tragedy
through the lens of newspapers

and illustrated magazines.

They wanted nothing more than to
help their stricken president.

When Bliss's bulletins indicated
that Garfield was able

to keep milk down,
a company in Baltimore

sent a prize dairy cow,
which was kept tied up

on the White House lawn.

Hearing that Lucretia made
squirrel soup for her husband,

two North Carolina girls

sacrificed their beloved pet
to the cause.

The president's Catholic cook
made a habit

of discreetly sprinkling
holy water into his food.

And day after day,
crowds kept an anxious vigil

outside the White House.

Among those desperate
to help the president

was the country's
most famous inventor:

34-year-old
Alexander Graham Bell.

When Bell read accounts
of Garfield's suffering,

he became obsessed
with developing

a less barbaric method
of locating the bullet.

This could be the trick.

And he won't feel a thing.

Are you sure?

Positive.

Bell abandoned his other work,

left his pregnant wife
in Boston,

and shut himself away in a
small lab on Connecticut Avenue

not far from the White House.

Drawing on the principles
he had used in the telephone,

Bell and his assistant

invented the world's
first metal detector.

Bliss had been dismissive
of Bell's efforts at first,

but now he was
growing desperate.

I'll take that.

Mr. Tainter is very familiar
with the apparatus.

I think it best.

It is a delicate procedure...

I think it best.

As you wish.

Bell had already pushed
the boundaries of science

in developing his device...

Proceed.

But was now suddenly up
against a new complication.

Dr. Bliss had stated publicly
many times

that the bullet was lodged
in the president's right side.

It now became clear
that he expected Bell

to find it where Bliss
had said it was.

The doctor wouldn't even allow
Bell to examine the left side

of the president's body.

Wait, maybe there?

I don't know.

Have a listen.

I don't think so.

I'm sorry.

The signal is much weaker
than it was in our tests.

But it is a signal.

I don't think it's conclusive.

But it confirms all
of the other evidence.

I think that we can declare
your test a success, Mr. Bell.

We thank you for all
of your hard work.

But now the president
must have his rest.

Thank you.

Bliss announced publicly

that Bell had
confirmed his conclusions,

and told the inventor that his
services were no longer needed.

Even by 1880s standards,

Garfield was receiving very
questionable medical care.

He's being given alcohol
and morphine every day.

He is being given rich foods.

He is growing more
and more sick every day

as this infection
takes over his body.

Behind the scenes, the struggle
over Garfield's treatment

was becoming more intense.

Bliss had demoted Silas Boynton
to nursing duties

and excluded him
from all decision-making,

but the younger doctor
remained a thorn in his side.

Lucretia had asked Silas Boynton
to stay, and to watch.

And he did and he was horrified
by what was going on.

Boynton was
a homeopathic physician.

One of the hallmarks
of this alternative approach

was an emphasis on cleanliness.

A homeopath would believe
in keeping the patient calm,

rested, nourished, and clean...

The opposite
of what Bliss was doing.

Reporters sensed
that something was going wrong,

and they found Silas Boynton
only too willing

to back up their suspicions.

Boynton was most incensed
by Bliss's exclusion

of other doctors, a clear breach
of medical ethics.

Excuse us, please.

James, Silas has raised
an important question.

Did you assign Dr. Bliss
to be your doctor?

I don't know.

He's told everyone
that you put him in charge.

And he's using that
to get rid of anyone

who might challenge him.

As well he should.

What do you mean?

He's worked himself
half to death for me.

It's not for you, he just wants
to make a name for himself.

He's blind with ambition.

If he had just
cleaned the wound...

But he's too obstinate.

Silas thinks all that pus

is a sign of danger.

Silas, he has seen many more
wounds than you have.

Yes, and how many of those
soldiers did he kill?

Silas...

No, it has to be said.

Your life is at stake.

Please talk to him.

She already has.

It's no use, Silas.

The infection becomes more
generalized throughout his body,

and he gets much sicker
much faster.

There comes a tipping point
when the immune system

starts to lose the battle.

For Bliss,
it's becoming a nightmare.

He writes to a friend,

"I can't afford
to have him die,"

and he underlines
each separate word.

Doctor.

Sir?

I'm dying.

Don't give up.

You can't give up.

I want to go to the sea.

I can't allow that, sir.

There are things
I have yet to try...

I'm not asking your permission.

I'm not asking your permission.

On the 6th of September 1881,
at 6:00 in the morning,

President Garfield
was tenderly carried

from his room in the White House

to a specially constructed
train.

The journey
to the New Jersey coast

was a transcendent expression
of public affection.

Thousands of men and women lined
the route in ghostly silence,

throwing straw on the tracks
to soften the ride.

To ease the final stage
of the journey,

2,000 volunteers worked
through the night,

laying track to the door
of Garfield's cottage.

When the train's engine
got stuck on an incline,

hundreds of workers
uncoupled the president's car,

and pushed it home
with their bare hands.

Garfield, who had been cut off
from the world

ever since the shooting,
was deeply moved.

Garfield used to talk about
how when someone is ill

you can really see
what he referred to as

"the bed of the sea."

Their true character
comes through.

And this was absolutely the case
with Garfield himself.

When he was so ill
and in incredible pain,

he was always was always kind,
and considerate

and concerned
about other people,

making jokes and wanting
to put them at ease.

Everybody around him benefitted
tremendously from his example.

Since the day of the shooting,
soldiers had stood guard

outside Guiteau's jail,
protecting him

from his fellow citizens.

On September 11, one of them
decided he'd had enough.

As his shift began he took aim
at the silhouette

in the jail window.

From our perspective now,
absolutely no doubt,

Guiteau was profoundly
mentally ill.

But the sad truth is, in 1881,

it didn't matter
what was wrong with him.

You can find many
a statement saying:

"I don't care if he was insane.

"I want him dead.

I want him strung up."

James?

Look what they've done to you.

I hate them, James.

Why can't I go with you?

Please, don't leave me alone...

I'm sorry, James.

It's over.

Dear Mrs. Garfield,

The heavens weep
and our tears fall

over our dear departed leader.

Please forgive me if I have
done wrong in writing to you.

The assassin has struck
at the heart of the country.

Believe me, dear madam, when
I assure you that in all parts,

and amongst all classes,
a common feeling

of horror at the crime,

and sympathy with the stricken,
is paramount in the heart

of every true man.

My Dear Mrs. Garfield,
I sympathize very deeply

with you in the loss
of your noble husband.

I prayed often for his recovery

but the good Lord
has taken him home,

where we hope to meet him.

With highest regards,
An ex-Confederate soldier.

The hearts of the nation
are bowed with grief.

Dear Mrs. Garfield,
we as a nation claim you

and your children.

God has left you to us,

and that you may be comforted
and sustained,

think how we all love you.

James Garfield's body
was returned to Washington

on the same train
that had taken him to the sea.

The small towns that dotted the
route were draped in mourning.

Bells tolled, and crowds
gathered in respectful silence.

When they reached
the White House,

Lucretia's final ordeal began,

as she undertook her part
in the nation's mourning.

There's this great outpouring
of sympathy and support

for Mrs. Garfield,
for the family.

And, in fact, Garfield's funeral
in Cleveland,

at the end of September,

was larger
than the Lincoln funeral.

Now that the president was gone,
Americans' greatest fear

was that Guiteau would escape
the gallows

by pleading insanity.

They avidly followed reports
of the tragedy's last chapter.

Guiteau was put on trial,
but there was never any doubt

about the outcome.

After 72 days of testimony,
it took the jury

a little over an hour
to find him guilty.

Guiteau breaks my heart
a little.

He never should have been
allowed to hurt anyone,

much less the President
of the United States.

They walked to the gallows
and he was allowed to read

this poem, which he wrote.

The signal that was agreed upon

was that when he was ready,
he would drop the poem.

And he finished the poem
and he called out,

"Glory, glory, glory,"
and he let the poem fall.

During the trial, Guiteau had
offered an unsettling defense:

"The doctors ought
to be indicted," he charged,

"not me."

Although Guiteau's argument
did him no good in court,

it struck a nerve
with the public.

An autopsy proved
that Bliss was mistaken

about the position
of the bullet,

and that the president
had in fact died

of a massive infection.

A few months
after Guiteau's execution,

Congress launched
an investigation

into the president's
medical treatment.

Bliss was pilloried,
both for his misjudgments

and for his jealousy
of other doctors.

There's probably only one man
in America who thinks

this whole thing
has worked out quite well,

and that's Roscoe Conkling.

Finally his right-hand man is
president of the United States

and he fully expects that Arthur
is going now to take his orders.

A few weeks
after Arthur's swearing in,

Roscoe Conkling called
on the new president

to lay out his plans
for the administration.

Washington was buzzing with
rumors of Conkling's demands...

Secretary of State, some said,
or perhaps Treasury.

We don't know exactly
how the conversation went,

but it was pretty clear
they had a pretty bad argument.

Arthur, to his credit,
said no to Roscoe Conkling.

And it was a very
politically courageous thing

for Arthur to do.

As one Stalwart put it,
he's not Chet anymore,

he's now the President
of the United States.

With Chester Arthur
in the White House,

the wheels of government
began turning again.

Life went on across the country,
but many Americans were haunted

by a sense of loss.

For laborers, field hands,
immigrants, settlers,

for everyone hoping to rise
through hard work,

James Garfield had embodied
the American dream,

a dream that was being obscured

by the strife and divisions
of the Gilded Age.

In an era shot through
with cynicism and corruption,

he had dared to summon,
once again,

the better angels
of their natures.

Garfield would come to represent

that vision for which
the Union had fought.

Garfield believed that everybody
should have equality

of opportunity
and that the government

should help them get that.

And that included black men
as well as white men.

With the assassination
of Garfield,

that dream, the dream
for which the Union had fought,

that vision died.

There's this great sense
that Garfield

represented lost potential.

There's no question
that Garfield

could have been
a great president.

He'd been incredibly kind
and just and courageous.

Garfield, for even a short time,
raised our sights

and made us more tolerant,
more open-minded.

Someone needs to stop Clearway Law.
Public shouldn't leave reviews for lawyers.