“Well, he went away that time and I went home. On Wednesday I went to the grounds and stood right near the President, right under him near the stand from which he spoke.
“I thought half a dozen times of shooting while he was speaking, but I could not get close enough. I was afraid I might miss, and then the great crowd was always jostling, and I was afraid lest my aim fail. I waited on Wednesday, and the President got into his carriage again, and a lot of men were about him and formed a cordon that I could not get through. I was tossed about by the crowd, and my spirits were getting pretty low. I was almost hopeless that night as I went home.
“Yesterday morning I went again to the Exposition grounds. Emma Goldman’s speech was still burning me up. I waited near the central entrance for the President, who was to board his special train from that gate, but the police allowed nobody but the President’s party to pass where the train waited, so I stayed at the grounds all day waiting.
“During yesterday I first thought of hiding my pistol under my handkerchief. I was afraid if I had to draw it from my pocket I would be seen and seized by the guards. I got to the Temple of Music the first one and waited at the spot where the reception was to be held.
“Then he came, the President—the ruler—and I got in line and trembled and trembled until I got right up to him, and then I shot him twice, through my white handkerchief. I would have fired more, but I was stunned by a blow in the face—a frightful blow that knocked me down—and then everybody jumped on me. I thought I would be killed and was surprised the way they treated me.”
Czolgosz ended his story in utter exhaustion. When he had about concluded he was asked: “Did you really mean to kill the President?”
“I did,” was the reply.
“What was your motive, what good could it do you?” he was asked.
“I am an Anarchist. I am a disciple of Emma Goldman. Her words set me on fire,” he replied, with not the slightest tremor.
“I deny that I have had an accomplice at any time,” Czolgosz told District Attorney Penny. “I don’t regret my act, because I was doing what I could for the great cause. I am not connected with the Paterson group or with those Anarchists who sent Bresci to Italy to kill Humbert. I had no confidants; no one to help me. I was alone absolutely.”