THE STORY OF HIS LIFE.
It is necessary to digress a moment at this point in order that something may be said regarding the previous history of the man whose name was soon to be on millions of tongues. Born on August 7th, 1846, on Erin's soil, near the town of Mallow, in the famed county of Cork, he was brought to the United States when yet a babe in his mother's arms. For five years thereafter he was numbered among the population of New York City. Thence the family moved to Baltimore, and thence again to the province of Ontario. When ten years of age he was placed in the care of the Christian Brothers at the Academy of St. Catherines. He graduated with honors in 1863, and, a boy of seventeen, started out to battle with the world. His first wages were earned at Petroleum City, Pa., where he taught school. From here he went to Titusville and thence to Clearfield, in the same state, where in 1866 he held a good position in a store. But he was restless and ambitious.
There was no charm—from his point of view—in the plodding life of a country school teacher or store keeper. He wanted to make his way in the world and he realized that in order to accomplish this it would be necessary to take the historic advice of Horace Greeley and "go west." Accordingly, late in the fall of 1867 he bade farewell to the many friends and acquaintances he had made in the oil regions and departed for Missouri. He first located in a country town, but after a short stay removed again to St. Louis. Here he secured a position in the store of Michael Dougherty, a grocer. Those who came in contact with him at that time remembered him in after years as a young man of pleasing presence, fine attainments and a remarkably good musician. He was especially a fine tenor singer, and soon after his arrival he became a member of the choir of the Catholic Church of St. John's. The numerous services and consequent rehearsals, however, conflicted materially with his work at the store, and as a result he secured another position as superintendent of omnibuses for a local transfer concern. Meanwhile he had been industriously engaged in the study of pharmacy, and so well did he combine this craving after knowledge with commendable prudence and economy, that after awhile he was enabled to become a full fledged druggist with a store of his own on Garrison street, adjacent to Easton avenue. Even then, however, he was not satisfied. He aimed still higher, and immediately begun the study of medicine at the Missouri College. From this institution he graduated in 1878, and, relinquishing the drug business, entered upon the practice of his newly chosen profession. Meanwhile he had identified himself with the local militia, and held the rank of captain at the time of the strike in 1877. Shortly after his graduation he was appointed a commissioner to the Paris exposition. The next twelve months were passed abroad, a goodly portion of that period being spent in Dublin and other parts of Ireland. Returning home, he accepted the professorship of materia medica and therapeutics in the St. Louis College of Physicians and Surgeons. Even with the onerous duties of this responsible position he found time and opportunity to study for two years—'80 and '81, at the Jesuit University, and received as his reward the degrees of A. M., and Ph. D. In 1882, by the advice of friends, he left St. Louis for Chicago, and almost immediately upon his arrival in the Garden City was appointed one of the staff of physicians at the Cook County Hospital. From this he drifted into private practice, and gradually became identified with a large number of political and secret societies. Among the latter were the Royal League, the Legion of Honor, Ancient Order of Hibernians, Ancient Order of United Workmen, and Independent Order of Foresters. He was at one time or another a Deputy Grand Regent of the Royal Arcanum, Past Commander of the Knights of Pythias and Chief Ranger of the Catholic Order of Foresters. Of many of these societies, as well as of the Plasterers' Union, he was the medical examiner. His practice necessarily was a lucrative one. He took an active interest in various Irish movements calculated to elevate his race and to promote the cause of Irish independence, and, at the time of his taking off, he was president of the Celto-American Club of Chicago.
Dr. Cronin never married. When rallied on one occasion on his apparent determination to live and die a bachelor, he tersely rejoined that "he had no desire to make widows." His only surviving immediate relatives were a sister, Mrs. Carroll, living at St. Catherines, Ont., and a brother John, who, just before the tragedy, had removed from Pawnee Rock, Kan., to Arkansas. He also had two nieces who were Mother Superiors in Canadian convents. In appearance he was a fine looking man, five feet ten and one-half inches tall, weighing 180 pounds and well proportioned. His hair was black and his luxuriant mustache was generally worn long and wavy at the ends. Personally he was courteous and warm-hearted. At the same time his impulses were quick and strong, and, while he would go to any extreme to serve a friend, he would follow up an enemy with relentless determination and vindictiveness. Wherever he went he enjoyed great popularity, and he could always boast of an extensive acquaintance and a host of close friends. He always retained the fine tenor voice of his youth and almost his last public appearance in Chicago was at the Washington centennial celebration at the Cavalry Armory, on which occasion he sang a specially composed "Hymn to Washington," with such telling effect as not only to elicit an encore but to rouse the vast audience to unwonted enthusiasm.
CHAPTER II.
DR. CRONIN FAILS TO RETURN HOME—ANXIETY OF HIS FRIENDS—THE EARLY MORNING RIDE TO THE ICE HOUSE—O'SULLIVAN'S SURPRISE AND IGNORANCE—THE MYSTERIOUS WAGON AND ITS OCCUPANTS—A BLOODY TRUNK IS FOUND—THE SEARCH COMMENCED—"IT IS HIS HAIR."
Dr. Cronin did not join his friends at the meeting of the Celto-American Society that memorable Saturday night. Nor, although the Conklins waited for him until long past midnight, were the familiar footsteps heard upon the stairs. The Sabbath dawned, and the first streaks of grey penetrated through the curtains into his apartments, but he was still absent. Naturally the Conklins became alarmed. During all the years that the physician had lived with them he had been a model of punctuality in his habits. It was the first occasion that he had remained so long from home without reason. If his business affairs happened to keep him away even an hour longer than usual it was his invariable practice to in some way contrive to advise his friends, so that they might notify any patients that came in his absence. Moreover, he was not a drinking man and such a thing as staying out all night with boon companions was foreign to his practice. Yet, eight hours had sped by, the morning had broken, and he had not returned. No wonder, then, that the family was alarmed, or that Mr. Conklin, without waiting for breakfast, determined to procure a buggy and drive to P. O'Sullivan's residence, which adjoined his ice house, at the corner of Seminary Avenue and Lake View. A startling surprise awaited him at the end of his six mile ride. O'Sullivan, when aroused from bed, was, to all appearances, considerably surprised when asked if the doctor was in the house.
P. O'SULLIVAN, THE ICE MAN.
"This is all news to me," he said, with an apparent air of frankness. "I have not been out of town and I know nothing of the man in a buggy."
"Was there not an accident in your ice house?" he was asked. "No," was the reply. "I have only four men in my employ and none of them have been injured."
"Then you did not call on Dr. Cronin, or send for him?"
"No, the man who did call used my name without authority. You say he used one of my cards, leaving it at the office. Well, I can understand how that happened. My cards are scattered all over Lake View and the city, and anybody could have used one in the same way."
"Do you know Dr. Cronin?" the ice man was asked.
"Yes," was his reply, "I have met him several times, and we were quite friendly."
"How did you come to engage him as physician to your family and workmen, when you live six miles from his office?"
This pointed query seemed to stagger the ice man for a moment, but at last he replied:
"He was recommended to me by Justice Mahoney." The latter, who had been elected a Lake View Magistrate but a few weeks before, had been regarded as one of Dr. Cronin's friends.
"Then you do not know how it happened that he was summoned to your ice house?" was the final query.
"I do not," emphatically replied O'Sullivan, "I cannot understand what were the motives of the man who went for him."
This was all that the ice man had to say. In the light of subsequent events, however, it was of importance. Mr. Conklin's worst fears were intensified. Driving rapidly home, he learned from his wife that the physician had not taken his revolver, as was his practice when going on a long trip; that he had only a small amount of money with him, and that he wore no jewelry of value except a watch. Without delay, Conklin proceeded to notify Frank J. Scanlan, his brother John, and two or three other Irish-Americans of prominence.
"This is the work of political enemies," they said without hesitation, "it has been skillfully planned and executed. It will take time and money to find him, if it is not intended to murder him."
Significant words. At that very hour the blood of the murdered man was calling aloud for vengeance.
A hue and cry was at once raised. The Chicago police were notified, and the most experienced detectives of the department started out on the case. Pinkerton's Detective Agency was retained, and Detective Frank Murray went out to Lake View as fast as a swift horse could take him. Captain Schaack of the Chicago Avenue Station, and officers of the Lake View police, were waited on and urged to turn loose all the officers they could spare to solve the mystery. Last, but not least, the newspaper offices were advised of the disappearance, and a score or more of sleuth reporters were soon in the suburb. By sundown of Sunday nearly sixty people were engaged in the search.