I would then go up-stairs, fix the rooms so that no one could see who might enter, and leave a sign at the window. In a few minutes my friend would appear at the door. Not one of my officers ever knew any of these men so employed, but they knew the officers.
Many funny incidents naturally grew out of this situation. It was very amusing to listen to the officers. One would tell me: “I saw such and such a fellow, a rank Anarchist, on the street to-day in company with a stranger,” or: “I saw a couple of them in such and such a saloon together, and one of them had a stranger with him, who looked like a wild Anarchist.” Then the officers would describe the fellow, and one of them would say:
“I know he is an Anarchist. He and the stranger walked around the jail building, and the next time I meet that stranger I will bring him in. It will do no harm to give him a few days’ entertainment in the station. I want to introduce him to you. I bet you will keep him, and you can, no doubt, learn something from him. I think he is a stranger in the city, and he is here for no good purpose.”
The officer was bound to bring him in, and this placed me in a rather awkward position. All I could do, however, was to say, “Don’t be too hasty; wait till you find him connected with others.”
This worked well for a while, but after a time some of these men who were in my secret service were brought in. One morning I arrived at the station and found that they had been locked up in a cell. As they had received at the start rigid instructions not to reveal their identity under any circumstances, they did not send for me the moment they were arrested, and so they had to remain until the next day, when I promptly released them.
THE NOTORIOUS FLORUS’ HALL.
From a Photograph.
At one time, one of these privates reported to me that he had seen a fellow around with some of the worst Anarchists in the city, that every one regarded him as sound in the Anarchist faith, and that he and the others were in Chicago to liberate the Anarchists from the jail. The private further stated that the stranger had never been seen except in the company of old-time revolutionists. That was enough for the detective to warrant arrest. I told him to make the fellow’s acquaintance and draw him out, but be in no haste. A few days later, the detective reported that he had spoken to the stranger and that he would become well acquainted with him shortly.
At this time every Anarchist resort was watched very closely. I told the private to ascertain where the stranger lived, but he must not push himself too rapidly forward; he must make an engagement to meet the man in the evening and stay with him as late as possible. Just as soon as they parted, he was to double back on the stranger and follow him. A few nights later the private reported again and said that they had been together one evening for three hours, when they parted on the corner of Madison and Canal Streets. He told the stranger that he would go back to the South Side, and then, by following him after parting, he found that the stranger started north. The man turned on Lake Street west and entered No. 71 West Lake Street, one of the worst Anarchist resorts in the city. This place was kept by a man named Florus, a rank “red.” The private waited for his friend to come out, remaining in the vicinity until Florus closed his saloon; but no one came. The next day the private reported the facts to me, and said that the stranger evidently had a room at Florus’ house. I told the private to try and get the stranger on the North Side so that I could have a look at him. He started out to hunt up his friend.
On the evening of that same day, detective No. 2 reported. He said that he had a fellow spotted whom he described as one of a gang that had come from St. Paul. He remarked that the fellow was very sharp, but not sharp enough for him. He also stated that the stranger appeared to like him, but that he did not trust him very much.