The next morning he was at the exposition early. He took up his position close to the stand beneath the Pylon of Liberty, where the President was to speak. When the time came for the President to arrive the guards pushed him back. He saw the President arrive and mount to the stand. He stood there in the front row of the hurrahing people, mute, with a single thought in his mind.
He heard Mr. McKinley speak. He reckoned up the chances in his mind of stealing closer and shooting down the President where he stood. Once he fully determined to make the attempt, but just then a stalwart guard appeared in front of him. He concluded to wait a better opportunity. After the address he was among those who attempted to crowd up to the President’s carriage. One of the detectives caught him by the shoulder and shoved him back into the crowd.
He saw the President drive away and followed. He tried to pass through the entrance after the President, but the guards halted him and sent him away. He entered the stadium by another entrance, but was not permitted to get within reach of the President.
The next morning he was at the exposition again and was in the crowd at the railroad gate when the President arrived at that point after crossing the grounds from the Lincoln Park entrance. But with the rest of the crowd he was driven back when the President’s carriage arrived. He saw the President pass through the gate to the special train which was to take him to the falls.
Czolgosz waited for the President’s return. In the afternoon he went to the Temple of Music and was one of the first of the throng to enter. He crowded well forward, as close to the stage as possible. He was there when the President entered through the side door. He was one of the first to hurry forward when the President took his position and prepared to shake hands with the people.
Czolgosz had his revolver gripped in his right hand, and about both the hand and the revolver was wrapped a handkerchief. He held the weapon to his breast, so that any one who noticed him might suppose that the hand was injured.
He reached the President finally. He did not look into the President’s face. He extended his left hand, pressed the revolver against the President’s breast with his right hand and fired twice.
That was all there was to his story.
“Did you mean to kill the President?” asked the District Attorney.
“I did,” was the reply.