Mrs. Klein often visited him and always brought a baby, in which Lingg seemed to take a special interest. Lingg and Mrs. Klein conversed freely together, and he seemed to enjoy her visits greatly. Whenever she called she brought him fruit of the season and choice edibles with which to vary his prison fare.
Lingg and his associates proved quite a drawing card, and Anarchists from all parts of the country called at the jail. But while his fellows appeared pleased to hold receptions, so to speak, Lingg did not desire the company of strangers. He gave his time only to the few ladies who called on him and to his nearest friends. He disliked being gaped at by curiosity-seekers, and when he had no good friend to keep him company he traveled the corridors of the jail beyond the reach of public gaze. He also whiled time away by cutting pretty little carvings out of cigar-boxes with his jack-knife, and in this he displayed considerable ingenuity. Tiring of this diversion, he would pick up a book or a paper; but, however monotonous prison life at times became, he never thrust himself before the visitors’ cage to pose before the idle throng. Many callers came to sympathize with Lingg as well as to admire his handsome physique, and, as he would not allow his hair to be cut after his incarceration, his flowing, curly locks added to his picturesque appearance.
LINGG’S SWEETHEART.
From a Photograph.
But there was one visitor he always welcomed. It was his sweetheart, whose acquaintance he had made before his arrest, and who became a regular caller. She invariably wore a pleasant smile, breathed soft, loving words into his ears through the wire screen that separated the visitors’ cage from the jail corridor, and contributed much toward keeping him cheerful. This girl had lived at one time with a family on West Lake Street, in the heart of an Anarchist camp, but, for some reason, while her lover was at the Chicago Avenue Station she never paid him a visit. The second day after he had been locked up at the County Jail she promptly made her appearance, however, and became a regular visitor. She simply passed with the jail officials at first as “Lingg’s girl,” but one day some one called her Ida Miller, and thereafter she was recognized under that name. She was generally accompanied by young Miss Engel, the daughter of Anarchist Engel, and during the last four months of her lover’s incarceration she could be seen every afternoon entering the jail. She was always readily admitted until the day the bombs were found in Lingg’s cell. After that neither she nor Mr. and Mrs. Klein were admitted. While it has never been satisfactorily proven who it was that introduced the bombs into the jail, it is likely that they were smuggled into Lingg’s hands by his sweetheart. She enjoyed Lingg’s fullest confidence, and regarded his every wish.
It is not known whether Miller is the real name of the girl, but it is supposed to be Elise Friedel. She is a German, and was twenty-two years of age at the time, her birthplace being Mannheim, which was also Lingg’s native town. She was robust in appearance, with fair complexion, and dark hair. She had quite a penchant for beer, and could sit in a crowd of her Anarchist friends and drink “schnitts” with the proficiency of a veteran. She always entertained hope of executive clemency, but when Lingg died at his own hands she somewhat surprisingly failed to evince great sorrow. Perhaps the consciousness of having aided him in escaping the gallows had prepared her for the worst.
Lingg’s terrible death did not perceptibly change her demeanor. She was seen at several dances shortly afterwards, and seemed to enjoy herself as much as anybody. She even danced with detectives, unconscious of their calling, and, in jesting with them, her laugh was as hearty and ringing as though she were bent on capturing a new beau.
During all the long, weary days Lingg remained in jail his demeanor was the same as during the trial—cool, collected and unconcerned. No special trouble apparently burdened his mind. His constant companions—whenever they were permitted to be together—were Engel and Fischer. They appeared to believe that their fellow prisoners and co-conspirators would turn on them to save their own lives.
The statement Lingg made, on the 14th of May, omitting the part pertaining to his occupation, age and residence, was as follows:
“Whenever I did any work at home [Seliger’s house] I did it as carefully as possible, so that no one could see me. I did make dynamite bombs out of gas-pipe, and I generally found the gas-pipe on the street. Finding them two or three feet long, I would cut them into pieces. After cutting them about six inches long I would fill them with dynamite and attach a fuse to each. I then would call them bombs.”