April 14, 1865: President Abraham Lincoln is shot by John Wilkes Booth at Ford's Threatre

The president rose in high spirits on the morning of April 14, 1865. He had many reasons to be in such a good mood. The Army of Northern Virginia had surrendered to Union forces only five days prior, and the war seemed to be coming to a swift end. The President busied himself with the tasks of the day, but he could not wait to get to the telegraph office that night to see the latest dispatches from the front. The First Lady had a different evening in mind. She wanted to go to the theatre for a night of leisure. She bought tickets to see the popular comedic play, Our American Cousin at Ford’s Theatre. The tired President reluctantly agreed. Originally the Lincolns invited General Grant to attend but he refused, wanting to see family instead. They settled on their friend, Major Henry Rathbone and his fiancée, Clara Harris. As the Lincolns busied themselves in the arrangements, two miles away, John Wilkes Booth was drinking his woes away in a local tavern.

The Civil War was a tough time for the actor. While Booth was in the militia at the beginning of the war, he chose not to fight for the Confederacy. By the war’s end, he had become a virulent southern extremist, and an ardent white supremacist. As Lincoln moved toward a policy of emancipation, Booth sought to prevent it. He was joined by Samuel Arnold, George Atzerodt, David Herold, Michael O’Laughlen, Lewis Powell, and John Surratt. The conspirators sought to kidnap the President and ransom him for Confederate prisoners. On March 19, they decided to enact their plot as Lincoln was coming from a play at the Campbell Military Hospital. However, he never attended and the plot failed. Booth then decided he had to kill the President, he only had to find his chance. On April 14, he sat in a tavern sadly sipping his brandy.

After he finished his drink, he traveled to Ford’s Theatre to pick up his mail. As he sorted his mail, he spoke with the theatre’s owner. He told Booth that the Lincolns were suppose to attend a play that night. Booth had found his chance. He waited for the President in a tavern across the street from the theatre. The Presidential party arrived late, quickly taking their seats. Lincoln’s guard, a policeman named John Frederick Parker was absent, now occupying the same bar Booth was at. Booth slowly made his way to the President’s box. He entered, barricading the door behind him. He drew his derringer from his pocket. He waited until the audience’s biggest laugh, and fired his gun inches from the back of the President’s head. Mary Todd yelled in horror and President slumped down. Major Rathbone leaped up and grabbed Booth but recoiled when he slashed him with his knife. Booth leaped out of the box onto the stage below. He fell with a thud, as his boot spur was caught in the flag that hung from the box. As he limped toward the exit, he either said, “Sic semper tyrannis” (always thus to tyrants), or “The South is avenged” to the stunned audience. He stumbled to the exit and onto a waiting horse, galloping into the dark, Virginia mist.

The President clung to life, as he laid bleeding on the floor of the box. He was breathing extremely heavy. A doctor from the audience ran up to the box to aid the wounded President. He felt around the back of the President’s head until he found a hole. He stuck his finger into the wound to relieve a clot., returning his breathing back to normal. Soldiers came to take the dying President across the street to the Peterson House. They placed him on the bed and covered him in blankets. Throughout the night, he struggled for life. That night would prove to the most desperate in the history of the young country. As the President laid in semi-comatose state, the government was being attacked from all sides. The Secretary of State, William Seward had been brutally attacked in his home, but had luckily survived. The Vice President was targeted but his assassin developed cold feet. The man left in sole control of the government was Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton. He made sure to shut down the city and establish a dragnet to capture the fugitive Booth. As the night progressed, the President grew worse. His breathing grew shallow. When the sun rose that morning, it had stopped. Abraham Lincoln died that morning, surrounded by the men he had once considered rivals. Now these men would remember him as the President who preserved the Union in the face of unsurmountable odds.