Fischer seemed to feel his position at the station more keenly than the others. On his arrest he was found to have in his possession a 44-caliber revolver, a file sharpened so as to make it serviceable as a dagger, and a detonation cap, and, as he was the foreman of the compositors in the office, his trepidation may have been caused by a suspicion that possibly the officers took him to be the leader of an armed gang among them. Before the raid on the office it appears that he had endeavored to hide these weapons, but he had been unable to unload himself, as the others in the office would not consent to concealment in their vicinity, lest discovery in the event of an investigation might criminate them in the conspiracy. Fischer was on his way down stairs to find a hiding-place for his weapons at the very moment when he was overtaken by the police and relieved of all further trouble. The dagger was a peculiar instrument, and it was the general opinion of those who examined it that it had been dipped in some deadly poison from which, through a slight scratch or through a deep plunge of the weapon, death would be speedy.
Fischer always seemed thoroughly unscrupulous as to the means to be used to bring about the death of capitalists, and he never tired of uttering dire threats against the foes of Socialism. He was a tall, lithe and muscular-looking man, and, with a resolute purpose, he impressed his comrades as one who would not easily be balked. It is difficult to determine just how Fischer came to imbibe his bloodthirsty principles, as little is known of his antecedents. At the time of his arrest he was twenty-seven years old and married. He had been in the United States thirteen or fourteen years. He had learned the printer’s trade in Nashville, Tenn., working for a brother who conducted there a German paper. Subsequently he acquired an interest in a German publication at Little Rock, Ark., and in 1881 he moved to St. Louis, where he worked at the case and where he became known for his extreme ideas on Socialism. He soon found his way to Chicago, where he felt satisfied he would find more congenial spirits in the work upon which he had set his heart. Here he became associated with Engel and Fehling in the publication of a German paper, the Anarchist, but as this did not live long, he became a compositor on the Arbeiter-Zeitung. Wherever he was, he always talked Anarchy and showed a most implacable hatred of existing society.
When brought to the station, Fischer weakened perceptibly, but afterwards braced up and yielded no information except as to his whereabouts for several days prior to the Haymarket meeting. He had no love for the police, and he did everything in his power to trip us up in our subsequent investigations. From the moment of his arrest to the day of his execution he adopted a most secretive policy.
FISCHER’S BELT
AND POISONED DAGGERS.
From a Photograph.
Spies also weakened at first when brought into the station, almost trembling with fear, but, after the first flush of excitement had passed, he took on an air of bravado, and exhibited a bold front in spite of the documentary disclosures against him. He became glib of tongue, but stoutly denied any knowledge of a conspiracy to precipitate a riot at the Haymarket. He was savagely denounced by Superintendent Ebersold, but he stood his ground and resolved to act the part of the innocent victim. His active participation in all large demonstrations, notably those at the McCormick factory and the Haymarket, made him a splendid mark for critical examination, but every effort to extract definite information proved futile.
AUGUST SPIES.
From a Photograph taken by the Police.
Spies was a young man of considerable ability, having enjoyed more than a common school education in Germany, and in all his talks he demonstrated that he had been a diligent reader of history and an enthusiastic student of Socialism and Anarchy. With all his reading, however, it was apparent that he had not carefully digested his information. He always acted as if self-conscious of great knowledge. He was a strong and effective speaker, but in all his harangues there seemed to be lacking the element of sincerity. For a long time some of his associates doubted if he really meant what he said, and there are Anarchists to-day who do not believe that he was at any time really in earnest in his public utterances. They think that he exerted himself simply for the purpose of being looked upon as a popular leader and hero, and that he worked for the cause only as a means of obtaining an easy living. He was exceedingly vain and pompous, and courted public notoriety.
Spies had received a very good salary as editor of the Arbeiter-Zeitung and enjoyed nothing better than to write a fiery editorial or deliver an incendiary speech. It all served to rivet attention on himself. The more attention, the more it pleased his vanity. His constant desire was to place himself on dress parade, so to speak, and he generally sought out, when he lunched down town at noon, some fashionable or crowded restaurant. He would strut to a table which could only be reached by passing other crowded tables, and enjoy the sotto voce remarks as he passed or as he sat at the table he had selected—“There is Spies, the noted Anarchist.” No common Anarchist, lager-beer-and-pretzel lunch-houses suited him.