I am conducting an ongoing review of the seven-part AppleTV+ miniseries Manhunt, named after the Lincoln assassination book by James L. Swanson. This is my historical review for the fourth episode of the series “The Secret Line.” I previously posted a prologue to this episode, which contained a summary of the episode and my overall thoughts regarding the historical accuracy of this series. For full context, I recommend you read that post first before continuing. To read my reviews of earlier episodes, click the hyperlinked episode numbers that follow: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4a.

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Episode 4: The Secret Line

A summary of the events of this episode can be read in my Prologue post.

Before diving into the fact vs. fiction of this episode, I want to highlight things that I liked about this fourth episode of Manhunt.

• Mary Simms quits

Chronologically, the real Mary Simms left Dr. Mudd’s farm about 5 months before the assassination. At the beginning of this episode, we finally get to see what this separation might have been like. I was happy to see Mary’s emancipation from Mudd’s finally come to fruition in the series. It was rewarding for us, as the audience, to see her essentially tell Dr. Mudd off before leaving to strike it out on her own. The series finally made it clear, after being pretty ambiguous up to this point, that Mary Simms was not being enslaved by Dr. Mudd at this time but was a hired servant. Slavery ended in Maryland in November of 1864, and it was during the same month that the Mary Simms left the Mudd farm. According to her testimony, Dr. Mudd had beaten her after emancipation came, and so she left rather than continue to endure such abuse. She left the Mudd family and never looked back. During the trial, one of the defense witnesses was Julia Ann Bloise. She had been a hired servant at Dr. Mudd’s during the year 1864. She testified that Dr. Mudd never beat Mary Simms during the time she was employed there. However, she did state that Mrs. Mudd (who is absent in the series along with Dr. Mudd’s children) “struck her about three licks with a little switch” for going out walking on Sunday evening without permission. So, it may be that this physical abuse was the last straw for Mary, who was no longer bound to tolerate such things. Watching Mary Simms finally finding her voice and breaking through the mental slavery she had endured is well shown in this episode.

• “We’re Not Our Brothers”

In the New York City scene, we see Mary Lincoln conversing with Edwin Booth at a private wake for President Lincoln. This scene is entirely fictional, but I still really liked the conversation between this Booth and Mrs. Lincoln. Edwin recounts a line the President asked him to recite once, and Mrs. Lincoln recalled how much Abraham appreciated Booth’s performance of Hamlet and the theater in general. Edwin compliments the late President’s own oratory skills and then apologizes to Mrs. Lincoln personally for his brother’s crime. To this, the incredibly understanding Mrs. Lincoln states, “My brothers are Confederates, too. We’re not our brothers.” It is a very touching moment between two historical figures who suffered greatly due to the actions of John Wilkes Booth.

Of course, as I have noted before, Mrs. Lincoln did not take part in the funerary activities surrounding her husband. She did not travel with the funeral train and, as far as I know, did not attend any private wakes in New York City. Edwin Booth, likewise, would never have made an appearance at such a function, even if it did occur. After hearing of his brother’s crime, Edwin secluded himself and retired from the stage for nine months. Under no circumstances would propriety have allowed Edwin to attempt to converse with the widow Lincoln about her loss at the hands of his own blood. While the President and First Lady had seen Edwin Booth perform in February and March of 1864 when the tragedian played at Grover’s National Theatre in Washington, Lincoln and the actor never met in person.

Still, I like the “What-if?” scenario played out in this scene. It was interesting to see these two historical figures bond somewhat over the tragedy that connected them.

• Command Performances

Most of this episode’s action revolves around Edwin Stanton’s investigation into George Sanders’s fictional machinations, so the subject of the manhunt is quite secondary. This makes sense since this period is supposed to cover the four and a half days Booth and Herold were hiding out in the pine thicket. As someone who has personally reenacted this part of Booth’s escape, I can tell you that there is only so much content to be drawn out in the woods. Still, I believe credit is due for the main scene between Booth and Herold in the thicket. During this scene, Davy reads Booth’s diary (which, again, was never a book-length biography as implied but a few hastily scribbled pages done during the escape) and asks him about his childhood. Booth mentions having dressed up some of his father’s slaves as royalty, and he and his sister (likely Asia) would give them command dramatic performances. This is reminiscent of some of the stories in Asia’s biography of her misguided brother. She recounts instances where they practiced Shakespearian plays together, including reciting Romeo and Juliet from a balcony at Tudor Hall.

Junius Brutus Booth, the elder, did not approve of slavery yet still participated in it. The bulk of the Black servants and fieldhands at the Booth farm were rented from other neighborhood enslavers. Joe and Ann Hall, two servants for the Booth family, had several children of the same age as the Booths, so JWB and Asia often found regular playmates among the Hall children.

Young John Wilkes Booth grew up in a racial hierarchy in which he was at the top. As he got older, the future assassin took on a paternalistic view toward those who were enslaved. This white supremacist view held that Black men and women were incapable of taking care of themselves and needed the white man’s guiding hand. In this way, Booth convinced himself that slavery was beneficial for Black Americans, whom he saw as children regardless of their age. This view was very common and perpetuated the “good master” myth amongst enslavers. Booth’s joking in this scene about dressing up enslaved children in fancy clothes demonstrates his view that they were little more than playthings for his amusement. It effectively demonstrates his learned version of racism.

• “I am myself alone.”

In the same scene, Booth deigned to recite something for Herold’s amusement. Davy requests poetry and asks Booth to recite some verse from Edgar Allan Poe. It’s actually rather fitting that the series has Herold announce that he likes poetry because one of the last known writing samples we have for the fugitives is a page of poetry that they wrote while on the run. However, rather than poetry, Booth convinces Davy to let him recite a few lines from Richard III instead, noting that he was well acclaimed in the role. This is truthful, as Richard III was perhaps Booth’s best role. Booth then proceeds to recite lines that aren’t in the original version of Richard III but do appear in the Colley Cibber version, which was the version of Richard III that was known and enjoyed by theater patrons. The lines go:

This was a great quote for the production to pull. Not only does it pair well with the preceding flashback of Booth with his brother (I break that down below), but it is also a line that Booth was well acquainted with. When Booth made his debut as a starring actor in his hometown of Baltimore, theater manager John T. Ford did all that he could to draw crowds to his Holliday Street Theatre. Part of that advertisement was to play up the Booth brother angle and get the populace excited to see this new son of the legendary Junius Brutus Booth. Thus, Ford advertised Booth’s Richard III performances with the lines “I am myself alone,” daring the audience to come out and judge whether this younger son of Booth would surpass his brothers and late father.

In better times, this line from Richard III was one that helped gain audiences and bring Booth success. Yet, in this scene, the line is nicely paired with the true loneliness Booth is feeling due to his own actions.

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I noted in my prologue post for this review that I wouldn’t really be dealing much with the Stanton storyline in this episode since it is 99% fiction. The scene of Edwin Stanton and George Sanders pulling pistols on each other made for some engaging drama, but the circumstances leading to this moment (and the moment itself) are complete fantasy. There are general things that were true, such as the Dahlgren affair, the attempt to burn New York City, and the Yellow Fever plot against Northern cities, all of which were real events that happened. However, none of these happened as described or portrayed in this episode. Honestly, the easy guide for this episode is that if you see Stanton doing it, it’s most likely fictional.

Still, I wanted to address a few things in this episode related to the Lincoln assassination and Booth family history.

1. Edwin Booth’s character

As I stated above, I enjoyed the fictional scene between Edwin Booth and Mary Lincoln in this episode. Actress Lili Taylor does a great job portraying a far less manic Mary Lincoln, and actor Nick Westrate bears a good resemblance to the noted tragedian.

However, aside from their scene together, this series does not portray Edwin Booth very accurately. After chatting kindly with the widow Mary, Edwin Booth interrupts Stanton’s conversation with Robert Lincoln and aggressively asks the War Secretary, “How do I restore my name? A photograph with General Grant? A White House performance, perhaps?” In a few lines, Edwin has gone from a sincere and apologetic figure to a completely self-absorbed fake, more concerned with his name than with the tragedy of the nation. The real Edwin never acted so duplicitiously. He understood the importance of mourning and recused himself from the public eye. He swore off the stage for good, and it was only the clamoring of the public that convinced him that he was not blamed for what Wilkes had done. Still, out of respect for the fallen President and the knowledge that his kin had committed such an act, Edwin Booth never performed in Washington, D.C., after the assassination. He even turned down offers from Presidents and Congressmen to play the capital city in the decades to follow but always refused. In the days after the assassination, Edwin and the rest of the Booth family were filled with a unique form of grief as they mourned both the President and their own brother. The series’ decision to portray Edwin Booth as insensitive and two-faced is a great disservice to the real man who endured an unimaginable public and private grief.

2. Richmond Again

During his conversation with Sec. Stanton, Edwin Booth states that he and Wilkes had stopped speaking on account of “politics” and because “Wilkes always played a victim” to Edwin. The actor agreed with the Secretary’s assessment that Wilkes saw himself as a hero, and Edwin claimed that upon their last meeting, Wilkes had told him that he “had love only for the South.” According to Edwin, the last time they saw each other was the day Richmond was defeated, and his brother “mourned Richmond more than I’ve seen him mourn a person.”

This ending statement is notable because it completely goes against everything we’ve seen up to now. I’ve pointed out in my prior reviews how illogical this show has been in showing John Wilkes Booth incredibly eager to get to Richmond as the real assassin was well aware that there was nothing for him in the fallen Confederate capital. Yet the miniseries has continually pushed Richmond as Booth’s intended destination. In the prior episode, Samuel Cox tells the fugitive there’s nothing there anymore, yet Wilkes refuses to accept this truth. Through Edwin Booth’s words, the series has accidentally stumbled onto a truthful statement: that John Wilkes Booth was well aware of Richmond’s fall and never would have wanted to go to the Union-occupied city. And yet, two minutes after Edwin says these words, we have the scene of Herold and Wilkes in the pine thicket still talking about going to Richmond. It’s baffling.

In reality, the brothers had not stopped speaking. Edwin knew his brother was a secessionist and supported the Confederacy during the war, and Wilkes knew his brother had voted for Lincoln. These facts did cause friction in the family, but really not to a greater degree than could be found present in countless families with split sympathies. Still, the brothers had a fairly fierce argument about the war in August of 1864, which resulted in Wilkes storming out of Edwin’s home, but it did not cause a permanent fissure. For the sake of their mother, the Booth brothers decided that it was better not to discuss politics together, though conflicts over the war continued to pop up between them. Still, Wilkes visited his brother in New York and was likely present when Edwin completed a career highlight of 100 nights straight of Hamlet in March of 1865. They were different people who lived in different worlds, but they supported each other professionally.

3. The Show Must (and Did) Go On

Immediately following Edwin’s scene with Stanton, we are given a flashback to the night of the New York City arson plot, which occurred on November 25, 1864. This was the same night that the three acting Booth brothers, John Wilkes, Edwin, and Junius, Jr., shared the stage together for the first time. They performed the play Julius Caesar as a benefit performance to raise funds for a statue of William Shakespeare in Central Park.

This Booth benefit was the project of Edwin Booth, who had been trying to arrange it since early in the summer of 1864. However, John Wilkes’s travels to the Pennsylvania oil region (and secret early plotting to abduct President Lincoln) had delayed the performance by a few months. The series is correct that an attempt was made to burn down several hotels in New York City on this date, including the LaFarge Hotel adjacent to the Winter Garden Theatre, where the Booths were performing. However, the details of the fire plot are misrepresented, and George Sanders has nothing to do with it.

In the flashback, an erroneously mustachioed Wilkes and Edwin are seen outside of the theater, watching the burning hotel. The elder brother, June, must be off taking a smoke break, as he is nowhere to be seen. Wilkes comments that while “they had to evacuate tonight,” he’s “not leaving the play.” This implies that this one-time show was canceled on account of the fire, but this is not the case. During the second act, firemen rushed into the theater and interrupted the show with the news that the nearby hotel was on fire. In the chaos that followed, Edwin broke character and assured the audience they were not in danger. A bit later, a squad of police entered and also reassured the audience that the fire had not spread to the theater so the play could go on. The Booths completed their benefit, raising about $4,000 for the Shakespeare statue that was unveiled in Central Park in 1872.

4. JWB and Edwin’s Relationship

I truly do not understand why Edwin Booth was made to play the villain in the flashback scene outside of the Winter Garden Theatre. His interactions with his brother appear to justify why Wilkes “played the victim” to him. Edwin is incredibly dismissive and talks down to Wilkes. Perhaps we are supposed to side with Edwin due to his claims that Wilkes’s Confederate sympathies are staining the Booth reputation. However, the tone of this scene makes Wilkes come across as the sympathetic Booth, belittled and abused by his demeaning older brother. After watching this scene, one would come away with the idea that Edwin is partially to blame for what his brother did, he having mistreated Wilkes to such a degree as to drive him to such extremes to be recognized.

Needless to say, there is a lot wrong with this portrayal of the Booth brothers. While Edwin was well aware of his brother’s Confederate sympathies, this was not something that either brother broadcast widely. Part of the shock of the Lincoln assassination was that the perpetrator was John Wilkes Booth, a man very few knew harbored such strong anti-Union beliefs. While some actors and stagehands knew Wilkes was sympathetic to the South, he shared this in common with a great many others in the business, and he was not considered extreme on the subject until his attack on Lincoln.

One of the most commonly repeated myths that I come across regarding the Booth brothers and their theatrical careers is the idea that Edwin split up the country and told which brother where he could perform and where he couldn’t. This is usually followed by the claim that Edwin took the North, gave California to June (who resided there), and then left the South for Wilkes. In this flashback scene, such an arrangement is alluded to with Wilkes pushing back against Edwin telling him where he can and cannot act.

After another insult from Edwin, Wilkes defiantly says that he doesn’t need the northern cities of Boston, New York, or Philadelphia and that he will happily play Virginia and other Southern states that support the “cause.” And this is where the illogical nature of the “Edwin splitting up the country tale” shows up. During the Civil War, civilians like the Booth brothers had no access to the Southern states. While Wilkes would have undoubtedly liked to have been on the Southern stages, he was cut off. There was a war going on, and you couldn’t just travel to the South for fun. If Wilkes had risked it all and illegally crossed into the Confederacy, he would never have been welcomed on the Northern stages ever again. That act would have truly stained his reputation. Had Wilkes not committed his deed, I have no doubt he would have started performing in the South after the war was over when it was allowed. But the idea that Edwin ordered Wilkes to play exclusively in the South is ridiculous. Aside from an acting engagement to the Union-occupied city of New Orleans, John Wilkes Booth did not visit the Confederate states after the Civil War began. He made his home in the Union and stuck with it, much to his (and ultimately the nation’s) regret.

This scene also shows Edwin being very dismissive of his brother’s acting ability. As I wrote in my review for episode 1, this series has done a lot to negate the level of fame John Wilkes Booth had gained. In reality, after seeing Wilkes perform in 1863, Edwin Booth wrote to a friend, “I am happy to state that [Wilkes] is full of the true grit – he has stuff enough in him to make good suits for a dozen such player-folk as we are cursed with; and when time and study round his rough edges, he’ll bid them all “stand apart…” In the early days of 1858 and 1859, when Wilkes was still a lowly stock actor learning the stage, he performed alongside Edwin when the latter came to visit as the touring star. At the end of these performances, it was not unusual for Edwin to bring his younger brother to the footlights so that he might brag about him to the audience. Edwin wanted his brother to succeed and would never have insulted his acting in the manner shown in the series. By 1865, the two brothers were close to equal in their dramatic abilities, with Edwin being at his best in the brooding roles of Hamlet and Othello, while Wilkes was the better action star in Richard III and romantic Romeo. Despite their political differences, the real Edwin Booth was always very supportive of his brother’s histrionic talents, and Wilkes respected his brother’s skills as well.

At the end of their scene together, a woman walks up and asks for an autograph. Wilkes, assuming the remark is directed towards him, says yes, only to see the woman hand the playbill over to Edwin. In taking the playbill, Edwin gives his brother an extremely condescending look. Once again, I couldn’t help but think of the short-lived comedy show the History Channel attempted called The Crossroads of History and a very similar scene where Wilkes meets some “fans” while drinking in the Star Saloon next door to Ford’s Theatre. It has the same energy.

5. Oil Investment

This is the second episode in which Layfayette Baker mentions Booth’s oil investments. In episode 2, he informed Stanton that “Booth had four meetings with Wall Street bigwigs, wanted them to invest in a Pittsburgh oil rig with him.” In both episodes, these comments are followed by theories that “oil investment” was code for the assassination plot. There is a degree of truth in these lines, but they are couched in incorrect information. John Wilkes Booth was convinced by John A. Ellsler, the manager of the Academy of Music theater in Cleveland, to invest in the Pennsylvania oil region in December 1863. The pair recruited another man, Thomas Mears, to join them in the venture. Mears was a noted prize fighter and gambler. The three men dubbed their oil business The Dramatic Oil Company and started looking for land to acquire. In 1864, they purchased 3.5 acres near Franklin, PA, about 80 miles north of Pittsburgh. They purchased all of the equipment needed to dig an oil well and hired men to do the job. They christened their well the “Wilhelmina,” named after Thomas Mears’s wife.

Several years ago, I visited the oil region and shot some shaky videos of the area around Booth’s oil interests. Today, I realized that I had never done anything with that footage, so I just uploaded the series of videos to YouTube. If you’re interested, you can check out this playlist of videos to learn more about JWB’s attempt to become an oil tycoon.

So, it is well proven that John Wilkes Booth had legitimate oil investments. None of his oil meetings involved George Sanders or any “Wall Street bigwigs,” as the miniseries claims.

However, to be fair to the series, Booth did use the cover of having been successful in the oil business in order to explain away his retirement from the stage. When friends and fellow actors inquired of Booth why he was not acting during the 1864-1865 theatrical season, he lied and said that he had made a fortune in oil. In reality, the oil business had been a financial loss to the actor, and his real interest during this period was working on his plot to abduct President Lincoln. So, in a way, the oil business became a cover for Booth’s real plot, but not in the way the series implies.

6. Getting Booth to the River

Thomas Jones (aka The River Ghost) shows back up in this episode. Snacking on a stick, he approaches Booth and Herold and tells them the time is right to head for the Potomac River. The trio walks through the windy woods, and at the end of the episode, they are shown at the bank of the river. Booth and Herold enter a small rowboat and are pushed off into the water by Grizzly Adams, who states, “Virginia will welcome you with open arms.” As Herold starts to row, Booth finally acquiesces to Davy’s earlier request for a reading from the works of Edgar Allan Poe. The actor then recites lines from Poe’s famous poem, “The Raven,” and they slip out into the dark river for uncertain shores.

With the suspenseful music in the background and the cuts back to Stanton consulting a map of “the secret line” that he discovered (nonsense, of course), Booth’s recitation is effective and would have been the best ending for the episode in my opinion.

Of course, the series only gets this part of Booth’s escape right in the big picture and not in the details. After learning that a large detachment of troopers were heading from Charles County (where the fugitives were hiding) to St. Mary’s County to the south, Jones knew that the night of April 20th was his best bet to get the men to the river. He, of course, waited until after sundown and gathered the men up. Jones arrived on horseback, and it was decided that the injured Booth would ride atop the horse while Herold walked beside it. The trio proceeded with Jones walking about 50 yards ahead of the pair, checking to make sure the cost was clear and then whistling for them to come forward. Jones would then venture another 50 yards and repeat the process. Thus, it took hours for the men to travel the four miles from the pine thicket to the spot on the Potomac River where Jones had had his servant, Henry Woodland, hide a small boat.

Since I’m apparently highlighting my own videography in this review, here’s a part of my John Wilkes Booth in the Woods reenactment from a decade ago that covers this part of Booth’s escape:

The real Thomas Jones was less certain about the welcome Booth would receive in Virginia but did direct the men to the home of Elizbeth Quesenberry. He gave them a candle and showed Booth the direction on his compass that would get them to Mrs. Q’s home on Machodoc Creek. Booth thanked Jones for the care he had given them and even gave him some money for the loss of the boat. Jones watched as the men headed out onto the river with Herold rowing. Booth attempted to cover the light of the candle with his coat as he steered the boat using an oar and kept a close eye on the compass needle. In truth, a hunched-over Booth trying to hide a candle flame would not have been as powerful as the scene the series provided, so I do prefer the series’ artistic take on this.

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Quick Thoughts:

Here are some more things that stood out to me while watching episode 4 that I just don’t have the time to go into deeply.

• The first scene and one of the flashback scenes between Lincoln and Stanton revolve around the Dahlgren Affair. This was a real and still very mysterious incident in which supposed assassination orders against Jefferson Davis were found on the body of a Union colonel, Ulric Dahlgren. Such orders, if genuine, were seen as a violation of the traditional rules of war and, thus, justified similar instances of black flag warfare on the part of the Confederacy. The truth behind the Dahlgren orders and whether they were real or a Confederate forgery will never be known for certain.

• Mary Simms is comfortable quitting Dr. Mudd’s because she has a land grant from the War Department. She said the land was taken from an enslaver and was compensation for all the work enslaved folks had done. I’m not an expert on land grants and don’t know the ins and outs of the Freedmen’s Bureau after the war, but I do not think they took land from enslavers and gave it to former slaves, at least not on a large scale. While some properties were seized during the war, like General Lee’s property in Arlington, I have never heard of swatches of land in Southern Maryland having been seized and then turned over to formerly enslaved individuals. Grants did occur in the West on land taken by the government from Native tribes, but I have a hard time believing that the War Department would seize much land in Maryland, a Union state that never seceded. I’m happy to be proven wrong on this, but I have never read or heard about land in Southern Maryland being given to those who were recently freed from slavery.
• It’s a little thing, but George Sanders keeps talking about how New York City is “his city.” Dude, you’re from Kentucky. Just like KFC and Col. Sanders. Calm down.

• The stabbing attempt on Stanton by a person in a Lincoln mask is never explained. We have no idea who it is or why they were targeting the Secretary of War. It’s a fight scene that serves no purpose.
• After merely theorizing that Sanders was the source of the “$500” that Booth deposited in a bank in Montreal back in episode one, Stanton says this definitively to Sanders in this episode. We do not have any evidence that Sanders was the source of the $455 that Booth deposited. It could have easily been Booth’s own money, and since he never withdrew it, we don’t know his purpose for it.

• My family had a pet cockatiel when I was growing up, so I was curious about George Sanders’s having one named Lady in this episode. I wasn’t sure if cockatiels had been exported from Australia or had even been domesticated by the 1860s. Some online sources state that the first cockatiels arrived in Europe in the 1830s, but these lack any sources. When I search newspaper archives for the word cockatiel (and its spelling variants), the first hits I get in the U.S. are from the 1880s. The most humorous result was this advertisement for an exotic bird exhibition in Harrisburg, PA that featured a pair of cockatiels amongst many other feather marvels:

So, I think it unlikely that George Sanders, or anyone in America really, had a pet cockatiel in 1865. But, since we are supposed to believe that Sanders is the Elon Musk of his day, perhaps this exotic bird is to show us just how rich he truly is. Still, you would think he would get a decent-sized cage for his prized parrot. Poor Lady can’t even stretch out her wings without hitting the side of her prison. And, despite Sanders’s claim that he can leave the door open and Lady would never fly out, that bird is clearly itching to escape in the one shot where the door is open.

• There’s a lot of unintentional humor in this episode, such as Stanton scolding Robert Lincoln and telling him to get it together, the random V for Vendetta masked assailant, and Stanton seeming to impersonate Clint Eastwood from Sudden Impact about to tell  Sanders to “Make my day” at gunpoint. The episode also ends with a bit of unintentional humor. In the last scene, we see Stanton, his son Eddie, and a single Union soldier all on horseback. The U.S. Capitol building is in the background on the other side of the Anacostia River, and Stanton has his fictional secret line map in hand. The men set off down the road away from Washington with the Union soldier saying, “To Virginia.

But, the thing is, they are not headed to Virginia. They are heading down the road into Southern Maryland. You can’t get into Virginia from that road unless you have your own boat (like Booth). There was no bridge connecting Southern Maryland to Virginia. If Virginia was their destination, then they should have gone back into D.C. and crossed directly into Virginia via the Long Bridge. I understand that not everyone is familiar with the geography of the area, but hearing the soldier say, “To Virginia!” and knowing that they cannot get to Virginia from there without a boat is humorous to me. Luckily, Stanton has already proven he can teleport himself around the country, so it won’t be much of a problem for him.

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That’s my historical review for episode 4. While I have already seen the remainder of the series, I am going to refrain from commenting on episodes 5, 6, and 7 until I have time to write my reviews for those episodes individually. I can’t say when I’ll complete my next review, but I promise to get them all in time.

Until then,

Dave Taylor

I am conducting an ongoing review of the seven-part AppleTV+ miniseries Manhunt, named after the Lincoln assassination book by James L. Swanson. This is a prologue to my future historical review for the fourth episode of the series, “The Secret Line.” This post contains a description of the episode and some screengrabs that contain spoilers. To read my reviews of earlier episodes, click the hyperlinked episode numbers that follow: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3.

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Episode 4: The Secret Line

In this installment of Manhunt, practically all of the action is focused on Edwin Stanton’s intensifying conflict with Confederate agent George Sanders. In his newly purchased newspaper, Sanders spreads the story that the Secretary of War had authorized a failed attempt on the life of Confederate President Jefferson Davis earlier in the war. When a judge suggests that Sanders is too powerful for a warrant, Stanton goes after his support system of bankers. Stanton’s own father-in-law gets caught in the dragnet, the epitome of the 1% who cares about nothing but profits. Likely in retribution for the arrests of the bankers, Lafayette Baker’s office in New York is broken into and sacked. Files connected to Baker’s spy, Sandford Conover, are stolen, but Baker decides not to tell Stanton of this fact. Through his apparent direct line to President Johnson, Sanders has acquired a government contract to provide uniforms for the War Department. One of the first shipments is sent to a security team escorting the first family on the funeral train route. Soon after receiving their uniforms, the men fall ill from smallpox. Conover arranges a face-to-face meeting between Sanders, who has traveled from Montreal to NYC since the last episode, and Stanton himself. On the way to the meeting, Stanton is attacked by a knife-wielding figure wearing a Lincoln mask, Guy Fawkes style.

The assailant runs off before seriously harming Stanton. In his sit down with Sanders, Stanton is willing to make a “deal with the Devil.” He offers to approve Sanders’s arrangement with Johnson over the uniform contract, if Sanders will tell him where Booth is. Sanders appears to truthfully tell Stanton that, despite his wealth and connections, he is unable to tell the Secretary Booth’s exact whereabouts. Stanton then sweetens the pot, offering even more money than the uniform contract is worth if Sanders will provide a map of the Confederate agents helping Booth. Yet, to Sanders, this is a step too far. The money means nothing to him, and his real goal is to make sure the country continues to “belong to the white man” and to prevent Stanton from “giving it away.”

In true supervillain fashion, Sanders tells Stanton that there are countless men like himself who will work to prevent Stanton’s plans for Reconstruction as he pulls a gun on the Secretary. Then he brags, Trumpian-style, that he could shoot Stanton on Wall Street in broad daylight and get away with it. Looking down the barrel of Sanders’s gun, Stanton slowly draws his own and looks like he is going to take Sanders out. Instead, Stanton shoots a nearby window, sending a signal to Baker and his men to come storming in to arrest Sanders for dealing in smallpox-infected clothing. Sanders is unconcerned and is later shown bailing out and back to dealing on Wall Street. In searching Sanders’s office after his arrest, Baker finds paperwork related to Sandford Conover that clearly distresses him. Meanwhile, Stanton and his son rush to the shipments of smallpox clothing about to be destroyed. Stanton checks the “distributors list” and concludes that the names on the list are members of the “secret line” that he has been looking for.

The secondary storylines in this episode consist of Booth and Herold hanging out in the pine thicket before the River Ghost finally takes them to the Potomac River and sets them across. Mary Simms finally quits being Dr. Mudd’s servant and starts establishing a community school on the land she was deeded in the prior episode. Edwin Booth also makes his appearance in this episode as he attends a wake for the President in New York City and expresses his sympathy to Mrs. Lincoln. An unrealistic version of the relationship between John Wilkes and Edwin Booth is also shown in a flashback during an attempt to burn New York City in 1864. The whole show ends with Stanton, his son, and a single soldier outside of Washington, D.C., riding off into “to Virginia,” seemingly to catch Booth all on their own.

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Prologue to a Review

A great sense of relief came over me when watching this episode of Manhunt, and that motivated me to write this prologue to my full review of episode 4, which will come later when I have more time. During the first few episodes, I tried my best to give the benefit of the doubt to the writers, understanding that I didn’t know the ins and outs of developing and pitching a historical miniseries. I attempted to justify certain decisions I disagreed with, such as the merging of real people into largely fictionalized caricatures or the use of poorly supported historical concepts, as all being done for the “greater good” of making a more cohesive and easy-to-follow narrative for a general audience. However, in my last review in particular, I struggled to bridge the ever-growing chasm between the actual history and what was presented on screen. In the beginning, I had disagreed with but accepted instances of dramatic and artistic license under the guise that they were meant to capture the spirit of the event, even if the truth of it was sacrificed. When enough actual history was combined with these instances of dramatic license, I was okay (but still not happy) with it.

Episode 4 has helped free me from my prior illusions that this series is trying to be historically accurate. All of the fantastical intrigue between Stanton and Sanders in this episode proves that there was never an intention to make an accurate retelling of the assassination and search for Booth. It is clearly meant to be a fictional drama inspired by the time period surrounding Lincoln’s death, with a heroic Edwin Stanton acting as the savior spy of the country. And that would all be perfectly fine if only it wasn’t called Manhunt.

Halfway through this episode, Jen turned to me and said, “I’ve read Manhunt. This show is not based on the book Manhunt.” And she’s right. The series may be called Manhunt, but it’s not Manhunt, which is the underlying problem. Had this series been called The War Secretary or something like that, I would be enjoying it immensely and probably celebrating the series for the few historical facts it has gotten right or close to right. There would have been no expectation for this historical drama to stay anywhere close to the true history. But when a series is titled and said to be based on a noted nonfiction book, there is a reasonable expectation that it would try its best to be accurate. The complete abandonment of historical realism or truth in this episode proves conclusively that this is not intended to be an adaptation of Manhunt but a completely new fictional drama.

None of this is to say that this episode or the series as a whole is “bad.” In fact, I found this episode particularly entertaining, if a bit silly at times. I will continue to watch this show and probably enjoy the spectacle of it. I still have nice things to say about this episode when I write my complete historical review later.

But I’m resetting my parameters for this series going forward. I am going to try to keep reminding myself that, despite the name, this series is not based on the book Manhunt, and its goal is not to be historically accurate but to tell a story of historical fantasy—a well-acted, superbly costumed, and thrilling historical fantasy with a few “bones” of truth. By removing my expectation for accuracy, I think I can finally enjoy this fictional series for what it is.

There are many pieces of media that are inspired by true events that bear little resemblance to them. As a kid, I had a VHS of the 1952 movie Hans Christian Andersen, starring Danny Kaye. It is a cute musical film about the famous Danish author. I distinctly remember how, after the opening credits, the movie started with a text card that said, “Once upon a time there lived in Denmark a great storyteller named Hans Christian Andersen. This is not the story of his life, but a fairy tale about this great spinner of fairy tales.” This is how I will approach Manhunt now. It is not the real story of the search for Booth but a fairy tale about the man who led the search. I can enjoy a compelling fairy tale as much as anyone, though I am saddened that my hopes of seeing an accurate representation of the escape and manhunt for John Wilkes Booth just wasn’t to be.

I promise to come back and give a historical review of this episode and attempt to cover the few kernels of truth that grew such a garden of imagination. The Stanton storyline here is 99% fantasy, and aside from some “quick thoughts,” I won’t have much to say there. But there’s a lot to correct about the evil “mirror universe” version of Edwin Booth shown in this episode. It was disappointing how Edwin comes off as the bad guy and JWB as the sympathetic one in their scenes together. But all that will have to wait until next time. I appreciate your understanding that the real review for this and the next episode may be awhile due to my other commitments.

Dave

I am conducting an ongoing review of the seven-part AppleTV+ miniseries Manhunt, named after the Lincoln assassination book by James L. Swanson. This historical review covers the third episode of the series, “Let the Sheep Flee.” This analysis of some of the fact vs. fiction in this episode contains spoilers. To read my reviews of earlier episodes, click the hyperlinked episode numbers that follow: Episode 1, Episode 2.

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Episode 3: Let the Sheep Flee

In this episode of Manhunt, we see Booth and Herold, guided by Oswell Swann, finally make it to Rich Hill, the home of Confederate sympathizer Samuel Cox. The man offers to help the fugitives by putting them in contact with the “River Ghost” (aka Thomas Jones). Swann leads them to the pine thicket, where the two men wait. When the River Ghost does appear, he tells them the time is not yet right to cross the Potomac River. On the Stanton front, the Secretary of War’s asthma is greatly impacting his health. With grave matters of racial injustice playing out on the streets of Washington, Stanton defies his doctor’s and his wife’s orders not to exert himself. His conflicts with President Johnson increase, as the President appears to go back on his word to punish the South and its leaders. In Richmond, Major Eckert, assisted by members of the USCT, searches the remnants of Confederate offices until they found a cipher cylinder. With the key phrase conveniently taped to the bottom, Eckert can now unscramble the message found at the Surratt Tavern. The telegram from “The Office of Jefferson Davis” to John Surratt says, “Come Retribution.” Meanwhile, Lafayette Baker’s agent in Canada, Sandford Conover, is on the hunt to track down Surratt, the missing conspirator. Conover is given a clue about Surratt’s whereabouts in Montreal from a well-connected Confederate operative named George Sanders. Once Stanton is able to solve the clue, Conover makes contact with Surratt, who is hiding out as a priest. He sends word to Stanton, who travels up to Montreal to interrogate Surratt personally about Booth’s whereabouts. But, when Conover attempts to take Surratt into custody, the conspirator overpowers him and leaves him tied up for Stanton to find. Surratt successfully flees Canada, leaving Stanton without his main lead as to Booth’s whereabouts. After learning that Surratt’s ship to freedom was chartered by George Sanders, Stanton and Baker consider that he may be the mastermind behind the assassination. In the closing scenes, Sanders menacingly talks to a room full of Confederate supporters about the second chance Booth has given them and the possibility of restarting the slave trade. This is juxtaposed with Mary Simms receiving a deed in the mail from the War Department, giving her her own land grant in Charles County, Maryland.

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Before getting into my review, I want to pivot to something different for a bit. Have you ever heard of the Crystal Palace Dinosaurs? They are a collection of dinosaur and mammalian sculptures located in Crystal Palace Park in southeast London. The dinosaurs were unveiled in 1854 with much fanfare as the first attempt to create life-sized models of dinosaurs and other extinct creatures. They proved incredibly popular with the public, drawing visitors to Crystal Palace Park and inspiring a new generation to take up the fairly new field of paleontology. Even now, 170 years later, these sculptures are a treasured attraction at the park, as can be seen in this video of some recent restoration that has been done on one of them:

The Iguanodon sculpture at Crystal Palace Park is a well-known example of the ever-evolving nature of scientific understanding. When the first few incomplete fossils of the Iguanodon were found, paleontologists discovered a small spike-like bone. After analyzing the bone, it was determined that this spiky bone rested on the nose of the Iguanodon in much the same way as a rhinoceros horn. Using this information, the sculptor rendered his Iguanodon sculptures with that same small nose spike.

With the discovery of more fossils in the Iguanodon genus, it was realized that this spiky bone was not a part of the dinosaur’s head at all. Instead, we discovered that this spike is located on the Iguanodon’s hand, acting as a modified thumb. This thumb spike is believed to have helped the Iguanodon protect itself against predators and possibly have been used as a tool to help break open fruits and seeds.

You’re probably wondering why I’m opening a review of Manhunt with this paleontological fun fact. Well, it’s because I couldn’t help but think of the Crystal Palace Dinosaurs while watching this week’s episode of the series. They actually have more in common with each other than you might think. Both the sculptures and the series are beautiful pieces of art. I have no doubt that, like the Crystal Palace Dinosaurs, Manhunt will inspire others to learn more about the past. I can tell you already that my website hasn’t seen this much daily traffic since the 150th anniversary of Lincoln’s assassination in 2015. Manhunt is definitely increasing awareness and interest in this crucial event in American history.

Beyond artistry and interest, however, I kept thinking about these Iguanodons with the incorrect nose spike. The bone itself was a real piece that belonged in those sculptures, but they were in the wrong place. In truth, most of the decisions about the Crystal Palace Iguanodon’s appearance are now out of date, and the sculpture bears very little in common with our current understanding of these prehistoric creatures. This is true for the other dinosaur sculptures as well. The bones might be there, but they are just in the wrong places.

That was the same takeaway I had from episode 3 of Manhunt, “Let the Sheep Flee.” Like the Crystal Palace Iguanodon, the end result of this episode bears very little in common with our current understanding of the historical record. What few correct bones there are in episode 3, are largely in the wrong places.

The first two episodes of the series contained several areas of dramatic license, exaggeration, and alterations. While unhappy with some of the changes in those episodes, I still was able to see how the series was attempting to stay true to the spirit of the history, as author James Swanson said in an interview for CSPAN about the series. In episode 3, however, I found myself frustrated as the series appeared to diverge even further from historical truth.

I am also concerned that this series is embracing the unproven theory that the Confederacy was responsible for Lincoln’s death. I worry about the effect this will have on a general audience without enough background knowledge on the subject to be able to identify this theory as purely speculative and totally unproven. While the real Stanton and others in 1865 believed that Jefferson Davis and other high-ranking officials in the Confederacy had a hand in Lincoln’s death, no reliable evidence has even been found to support this conclusion. The result of the conspiracy trial showed how weak the government’s case was against these absent co-conspirators, as they had to rely on perjured testimony and fraudulent letters in order to prove a meaningful connection between Booth and Confederate agents. In the almost 160 years since that time, no big smoking gun has been discovered connecting Booth to the Confederacy at large. As a book, Manhunt does not embrace this theory, and I’m concerned that, in an effort to bring more drama to an already compelling story, the series may make the work of historians harder rather than easier. But, like everyone else, I have not seen the complete series yet. My fears may easily prove to be unfounded.

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Before diving into some of my criticisms and my analysis of the fact vs. fiction in this episode, I want to highlight things that I liked about it. Even though this was my least favorite episode so far, there were still a few things that I think the show should be commended for.

• The “Tactical” Decision

Edwin Stanton is greatly affected by the cold-blooded murder of a Black War Department soldier by a white resident at a park just outside his home. The event causes him to recall meetings he had with the President and Frederick Douglass about the idea of recruiting Black soldiers and the government’s role in helping fugitive slaves if the Union were to lose the war. These scenes show a Lincoln consistently sympathetic to the plight of Black Americans, both free and enslaved.

While the real Lincoln tried his best to be mindful of the injustices faced by Black Americans, he was first and foremost a pragmatic politician, intent on his goal of ending the war and reuniting the Union. He was also influenced by the prevailing racial prejudices and white supremacist beliefs of his time. In August of 1862, Abraham Lincoln invited a small delegation of Black ministers to the White House in an attempt to gain support from them for his plan of Black emigration. During that meeting, Lincoln read a formal statement in which he declared that:

“You and we are different races. We have between us a broader difference than exists between almost any other two races. Whether it is right or wrong I need not discuss, but this physical difference is a great disadvantage to us both, as I think your race suffer very greatly, many of them by living among us, while ours suffer from your presence. In a word we suffer on each side. If this is admitted, it affords a reason at least why we should be separated.

…We look to our condition, owing to the existence of the two races on this continent. I need not recount to you the effects upon white men, growing out of the institution of slavery. I believe in its general evil effects on the white race. See our present condition—the country engaged in war!—our white men cutting one another’s throats, none knowing how far it will extend; and then consider what we know to be the truth. But for your race among us there could not be war, although many men engaged on either side do not care for you one way or the other. Nevertheless, I repeat, without the institution of slavery and the colored race as a basis, the war could not have an existence.

It is better for us both, therefore, to be separated.”

David Blight, the author of the Pulitzer Prize-winning book Frederick Douglass: Prophet of Freedom, calls this meeting “Lincoln’s worst racial moment.” The President blamed the Civil War on the presence of Blacks in America and attempted to convince the group that the only future for the Black race was to leave America and settle elsewhere. When Frederick Douglass learned of this meeting and that the President had embraced the colonization movement that sought to evict Black Americans from their country of birth, he was furious and understandably lambasted the President in his speeches and newspaper columns.

Yet, even as the President was attempting to encourage Black leaders to support emigration, he was also secretly working on the draft of his Emancipation Proclamation. While the Emancipation Proclamation was an act of moral conviction on Lincoln’s part, as he had always seen slavery as a terrible evil, the actionable part of the Proclamation was the authorization to allow Black men to become soldiers. This was a well-thought-out “tactical” decision, as Tobias Menzies’ Stanton states in this episode. The real Edwin Stanton had also been looking for ways to utilize the thousands of “contrabands” (i.e. escaped slaves) who had found refuge within the Union lines. Stanton had advocated for the defensive use of these men to help with the war effort, and after the Emancipation Proclamation, he hoped to have “200,000 negroes under arms before June [1863] – holding the Mississippi River & garrisoning the forts so that our white soldiers can go elsewhere.” That timeline proved to be unrealistic, but by the end of the war, almost 180,000 Black soldiers had served in the Union Army at one time or another. More importantly, they were not resigned to only defensive assignments but proved the equal of any white regiment for their bravery in several battles.

I’m glad that this series took a moment to explain how the Emancipation Proclamation was a great tactical decision by President Lincoln and how it was supported by the Secretary of War. While Frederick Douglass did not meet Stanton or Lincoln until August of 1863, when he met with each man separately concerning the unequal pay between white and Black soldiers, he was still a strong supporter of the Emancipation Proclamation and the recruitment of Black soldiers.

• Booth’s CSA Dream

I liked the opening scene of the episode, which shows Booth taking the oath of office as the second president of the Confederate States of America. It is the culmination of the assassin’s hard work and shows how high the South holds him in esteem. It’s all a daydream of Booth’s, of course, as he is quickly brought back to reality by Oswell Swann literally “taking the piss” out of Booth’s illusion. This scene was an effective way to show us the severity of Booth’s delusions of grandeur, a common theme in this episode. Right after leaving his daydream, we see David Herold reading Booth’s diary and complimenting Booth on his writing. Of course, in reality, it’s unlikely Booth had written anything worthwhile in his small datebook at this point during his escape (which would still be the night of April 15-16). In fact, the only reason Booth turned to writing in his “diary” at all was because his actual last manifesto justifying his actions was burned on the night of the assassination by the man he had entrusted it to. It was only after getting access to newspapers about his crime and seeing his words suppressed that Booth was forced to make do with the small pocket datebook he carried. Still, the series accurately demonstrates how Booth was writing for an audience and for posterity’s sake. This Booth claims that copies of his diary will be in every school and library in Richmond (and, assumedly, the whole South) someday. Like the dream sequence, this shows us the vanity of John Wilkes Booth.

• Good Lookalikes for Samuel Cox and Joseph Holt

As with President Johnson, I have to give the casting and makeup departments high marks for their choices in depicting two historical characters introduced in this episode. The actor playing Samuel Cox looks quite a bit like the real owner of Rich Hill.

I was also very happy to see actor John Billingsley being referred to as “Joe” by Stanton in this episode. Up until just a day or two ago, he was still listed on IMDB as playing Edward Bates, the Attorney General under Lincoln who had departed the cabinet in 1864 and was not involved in the drama that followed the assassination. Luckily, both the dialogue in this episode and his updated entry on IMDB verify that he is playing Judge Advocate General Joseph Holt. The team did a great job making him up for the part.

If you’re a fellow Trekkie like me, you might recognize Billingsley from his time playing Phlox, the lead physician in the Scott Bakula-led Star Trek series Enterprise from the early 2000s. He wears considerably less makeup and prosthetics in his role of Holt than he did as everyone’s favorite Denobulan.

In addition to the excellent casting and makeup, I enjoyed the brief scene between Stanton and Holt in that it provided us with great foreshadowing of the trial of the Lincoln conspirators yet to come. In this episode, Stanton appeals to Holt to ensure that the man responsible for killing the Black soldier is held accountable. He tells Holt to disobey any order to release the man and that he needs a conviction. Holt states that he understands the sentiment but isn’t sure the “precedent extends to that.” I’m confident that Stanton’s need for a conviction and influence on Judge Holt will be shown again in the closing episode(s) of the series.

• David Herold

I have to give credit to writers and actor Will Harrison for the portrayal of David Herold in these episodes. Even though he was with Booth during the entirety of his escape, Davy is often overlooked or made painfully one-dimensional in texts about the assassination. Many books try to portray Davy as nothing more than an immature child, too dull-witted to realize the implications of his choices. But this portrait of Davy has never been accurate. Yes, Davy was portrayed as dim-witted by witnesses at his trial, but this was a gambit by his own defense team. With such a mound of evidence against their client, the best they could do was attempt to prove that Herold was not culpable for his own actions. Attempting to depict Davy as slow-witted failed to prevent his death and has plagued representations of him ever since.

In this series, though, David Herold is more complex. While it is clear that Davy is still very devoted to the famous actor, through the performance of Will Harrison, we are starting to see the cracks forming in Davy’s devotion. The unequal relationship between Booth and Herold is very evident, and my favorite parts of episode 3 are the scenes between Oswell Swann and Herold, where the former forces Herold to contemplate his own importance to Booth.

While there is no evidence that any such conversations occurred, mainly because Swann didn’t know the identity of the men he guided, the sentiment behind Swann’s remarks is real enough. The real David Herold must have considered his continued presence by Booth’s side as the escape went on. On his own and without the broken-legged Booth to slow him down, Davy might have been able to make his escape into the deep South or even to Mexico. He must have considered this possibility, especially during the nights in the pine thicket or as he singlehandedly rowed them both “across” the Potomac River. Twice.

I’m very much enjoying seeing Will Harrison’s Herold continue to grapple with his choices and his reasons for staying with Booth.

Now, let’s examine some of the instances of dramatic license and historical inaccuracy that plagued this third episode.

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1. Oswell Swann

I want to start off by saying that Roger Payano’s performance as Oswell Swann has been excellent. He is clearly a talented actor and gives a strong performance in this and the previous episode. My wife Jen expressed to me how much she likes the character of Oswell Swann, and I have to agree. If nothing else, the writers created an interesting character that Payano plays well.

The issue is that a lot of dramatic license has been taken with the historical figure of Oswell Swann. To return to my Iguanodon example from earlier, only a few bones of the actual man and his interaction with Booth and Herold are present in what the series has portrayed. A lot of the little stuff can be forgiven, such as the trio traveling during the daytime, the depiction of Swann taking the fugitives’ guns, or even showing Swann escorting the men to the pine thicket (Cox’s farm overseer Franklin Robey actually did that).

However, the series shows two big changes to the real Swann that I vehemently disagree with. They are the idea that Swann knew who Booth and Herold were when he was escorting them and, worst of all, that he was actively complicit in their escape. The most disturbing part of the series’ portrayal of Swann is how they have turned the mixed-race tobacco farmer with a wife and eight children into a willing and active participant in the Confederate underground. For a series that should otherwise be commended for championing Black representation in this story, I feel it is a gross miscarriage of history to place Swann on the side of those who would actively work to oppress him. There is no evidence that the real Swann assisted the Confederate underground in Southern Maryland. He was not part of the “secret line” of Confederates, as the Mudd and Cox in this series both claim.

Oswell Swann was an innocent farmer who had no inkling as to the identity of the two lost men who stumbled across his home at around 9:00 pm on the evening of April 15. He generously fulfilled their request for some bread and a drink before agreeing to help take the men (one of whom was suffering from a broken leg) to their intended destination for a small fee. There was nothing nefarious in the deed. It was merely the act of a poor, mixed-race farmer in the backwoods of Charles County, happy to make a few dollars for a simple job. When the real Swann eventually learned that the assassin of President Lincoln had suffered a broken leg, he earnestly made contact with the Union authorities to tell them of the two men he had guided to Rich Hill. He held back nothing.

In one of my earliest posts on this blog, I documented the known facts about the life of Oswell Swann and his interaction with the fugitives. Though that over-a-decade-old post is not as refined as my more recent work, I still believe the piece has valuable information about Oswell Swann. I highly encourage you to read that post and learn the real story of Oswell Swann.

As much as I enjoyed parts of the series’ version of Oswell Swann, I do not like how he is portrayed on the side of the bad guys in this story. There were plenty of real bad guys for the series to choose from. In my opinion, Oswell Swann deserves much better than to be depicted as a man who actively helped Confederates and knowingly assisted John Wilkes Booth, even if it was somewhat reluctantly.

2. Not Everyone was in the Confederate Secret Service 

I have a feeling that one of the biggest misconceptions that will come out of this miniseries is the widespread belief that the Confederacy had one of the greatest spy and underground networks of all time. Everyone we have seen help Booth on his escape so far has been part of the “secret line.” It apparently furnished John Surratt up to Montreal in record time, and Samuel Cox offered the same to Booth when he arrived. If the Confederate Secret Service was effective enough to successfully transport the most wanted men in America completely through the Union, one wonders how the Confederacy managed to lose the war in the first place.

In this episode, Samuel Cox takes Booth and Herold down into his not-so-secret windowed basement filled with documents, maps, a cipher cylinder, and even a telegraph machine. How Cox got a telegraph line installed in his home without everyone in the neighborhood, including the regular Union patrols, noticing it is never explained. From this well supplied bunker, Cox describes how, as a member of the CSS, he helps to conduct a secret war.

Yes, the so-called Confederate Secret Service existed, and yes, they did enact covert actions against the Union during the Civil War. But the actual CSS was not all that organized. While there were leaders in both the South and up in Canada, they operated more like different terrorist cells than a unified front. Each group largely made its own plans based on their own judgments of what would help the Confederacy. In reality, in isolated or unimportant places like Southern Maryland, there was no real CSS presence at all. While Samuel Cox was well known as a Confederate sympathizer and had organized a pro-Southern militia in Charles County during the secession crisis, I don’t know of any evidence that he was considered a member of the Confederate Secret Service. The greatest accomplishment of the Confederate Signal Corps in Southern Maryland was the successful smuggling of mail and men across the Potomac River. Cox’s foster brother, Thomas Jones, was the chief agent in this venture and later wrote proudly of his work. This is why Cox put the fugitives under the care of Jones when they sought out his help. There wasn’t much Cox could do for the pair on his own, and even men like Thomas Jones were little more than big fish in a small pond who had no real influence or connection to the Confederacy at large.

The Union knew that places like Southern Maryland were overrun with Confederate sympathizers who were aiding and abetting the enemy in their own small ways, but their crimes were extremely minor compared to real CSS activities like the guerilla raid on St. Albans, Vermont, or the plot to send Yellow Fever infected clothing to major Northern cities in hopes of starting an outbreak.

While the series may like the intrigue of a well-oiled and sinister Confederate Secret Service machine in Southern Maryland helping Booth to escape, the true story is far more mundane than menacing. Booth did not get the help of an elaborate spy network but from a few select Confederate sympathizers who were willing to do the bare minimum to help him get into Virginia.

3. George Sanders

I truthfully didn’t know where to start on the Montreal portions of this episode. The only correct bones in these scenes are that John Surratt, Jr. did hide out in the Canadian city after the assassination, some detectives did travel there in search of him, and that a pro-Confederate meddler named George Sanders often resided in Montreal. Beyond that, however, everything that takes place in Canada in this episode is fictitious.

Let’s start with the character of George Sanders, who is introduced in this episode as a well-connected agent of the Confederacy. After arriving in Montreal on the secret orders given by Col. Lafayette Baker in the previous episode, Sandford Conover meets with Sanders, looking to collect the reward on John Surratt and John Wilkes Booth’s heads. The immensely wealthy Sanders is humored by Conover’s desire for such a paltry sum of several thousands of dollars. Still, he playfully betrays Surratt by offering Conover a coded hint, which, of course, only the efforts of our hero Stanton back in D.C. can solve. When Stanton arrives in Montreal looking for Conover and Surratt, he runs into Sanders outside the St. Lawrence Hall hotel. Sanders’ role as a pro-Confederate activist is established by the exposition provided by Stanton in this scene, and Sanders demonstrates that he now has the ear of President Johnson. The scene ends with Sanders informing Stanton that he has just bought the Manhattan Weekly and that big news will be coming tomorrow. The next day, the front page of the fictitious newspaper contains an editorial cartoon of Booth apparently being tempted by Stanton in the form of the devil. In the closing scenes, Sanders menacingly declares to a room full of Confederate supporters that he will protect all of those who had led the Confederacy.

While the real George Sanders was conniving and worked on behalf of the Confederacy, he wasn’t quite the Lex Luthor to Edwin Stanton’s Superman as portrayed in the show. He never had Union War contracts, attempted to convince Manhattan to secede, or bought a Northern paper as claimed in this episode. During the War, Sanders acted more as an unofficial diplomat for the Confederacy in Europe, hoping to gain approval and support from foreign governments. In addition, he endorsed and supported the efforts of Copperheads and the Democratic Party to get a peace candidate elected as President over Lincoln in 1864. Such an outcome would have been very favorable to the South and would likely have prevented the country from ever coming back together. Luckily, the battlefield successes of General Sherman in Atlanta in mid-1864 helped propel Lincoln to reelection.

George Sanders’ real connection to our story actually takes place in October of 1864, when John Wilkes Booth visited Montreal in the early days of his abduction plot. Witnesses at the conspiracy trial testified that they had seen Booth in conversation with Sanders during the assassin’s 10-day visit to the city. Sanders was known for his radical ideas and had advocated for the “theory of the dagger” (i.e., assassinations) as a means of political change, especially when dealing with a tyrant. He had learned these radical ideas in the 1850s when he was living in Europe and rubbing elbows with revolutionary forces. Several authors have suggested that, during their meetings together in Montreal in October of 1864, Sanders may have influenced Booth’s plot.

The issue is that out of the six witnesses who testified as seeing Sanders and Booth together in 1864, half were later conclusively proven to have been perjurers (including Sandford Conover). Out of the three left, one was later convicted of his own fraud, though not in connection to his testimony regarding Booth. So the sightings of Booth and Sanders together are less than conclusive. In addition, we know that Sanders’ attention was very much occupied with other matters during the time Booth visited Canada. On October 19, the day after Booth arrived in Montreal, a group of Confederate guerillas dressed in civilian clothing enacted a raid on St. Albans, Vermont, robbing three banks before escaping into Canada. While arrested by the Canadian authorities, efforts by Confederate agents in Canada provided official commissions for the raiders, “proving” they were official Confederate soldiers. Due to Canada’s neutral stance in the ongoing American Civil War, the raiders were eventually released rather than being extradited, much to the anger of the Union. On October 23, Sanders left Montreal for Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu, Quebec, where some of the raiders were held at that time. It wasn’t until three days later that he returned, and Booth left Montreal on October 27. So, while it’s possible that Sanders could have met with Booth, during this time the Confederate agent was pretty busy dealing with the aftermath of the St. Albans Raid.

I suppose there’s nothing wrong with making Sanders the embodiment of the big, bad Confederacy for the sake of this series. After all, aside from Patrick Charles Martin, Sanders is the only “big wig Confederate type person” where some evidence exists that he may have actually met Booth. Though he was never officially a member of the Confederate government, he had his hands in several actions that were important to the Southern cause. I fully expect Sanders’ possible connection with Booth to be portrayed in the next episode, which has the descriptor “Stanton and Detective Baker investigate ties between Manhattan’s most elite Wall Street traders, the Confederacy, and Booth.”

One of the more egregious fictions in this episode, however, is the idea that Sanders was in contact with President Johnson and that they had come to an agreement. While there is a lot of deserved shade to be thrown at the 17th President, the idea that he was in active communications with agents of the Confederacy in the aftermath of Lincoln’s death is preposterous. There was no “agreement” made between Sanders and Johnson regarding anything. On the contrary, when northern papers started accusing Sanders and others in Canada of possible involvement in Lincoln’s death, they countered by noting publicly that Andrew Johnson was the only person “who could possibly realize any interest or benefit from the perpetration of this deed.” Johnson hated Sanders and his ilk of Confederate agents.

The scenes regarding amnesty or pardons for Confederates are misrepresented here as well. The series is trying to put such acts in a nefarious light, as though Johnson is selling out the country. The series never mentions that Lincoln himself had issued earlier amnesty proclamations during the war and softens Lincoln’s countering of Stanton’s aggressive retribution for the South with his own “let ’em up easy” approach to Reconstruction. I understand the impulse to paint Johnson as being too lenient with the defeated South, but it is very much exaggerated this early in his Presidency. Johnson wasn’t looking for “wins” in his first month in office. He, like everyone else, was looking for revenge for Lincoln’s death.

4. The Escape of John Surratt

We already know that the events in these episodes are not occurring concurrently but are taking place at different times and dates. Most of Booth’s movements in this episode are things he and Herold did on the night of April 15/16. In the Washington portion of this episode, Stanton’s doctor remarks that it hasn’t even been a week since Lincoln’s death. In order to tell a more easy-to-follow and compelling story, I understand the need to alter the timeline of events. However, the series’ depiction of John Surratt’s time and then escape from Canada bears very little resemblance to the actual timeline or even the actual facts of the events.

After Stanton is able to solve Sanders’ clue that “Agent Surratt is here in Montreal to visit his father,” Sandford Conover makes contact with John Surratt who is in a Catholic monastery of sorts dressed as a fellow priest. Conover tells Surratt he is there to help him escape because Stanton is on his trail. While Surratt packs, Conover slips up the means of Surratt’s intended departure, revealing himself to be not friend but foe. Surratt grapples with Conover, knocks him unconscious, and ties him to a chair. Meanwhile, in Washington, Stanton has received a communique (assumedly from Conover) that Surratt has been located. Despite the protestations of his wife to take his health seriously and not travel, Stanton tells his servant to book him a room in Montreal. We are only left to guess how that servant in D.C. was expected to communicate with a hotel in Montreal to make such arrangements. Perhaps Stanton had access to the telephone or the internet long before either was invented. Luckily for the tied-up Conover, there is an extremely fast overnight train from D.C. that gets Stanton all the way to Montreal. The Secretary releases Conover, and the pair try to catch up with Surratt before he escapes via ship.

Unfortunately for the men, Surratt has escaped by sabotaging and sinking the ship he was traveling on and then swimming to a nearby Confederate vessel that whisked him away. Stanton is angry with the U.S. Navy officers who allowed Surratt to escape. They inform him that they found something interesting among the wreckage of the ship Surratt sunk. Stanton is shown a trunk that Conover confirms was in Surratt’s room at the monastery. It bears the initials JWB and is filled with Booth’s theatrical costumes. The naval officers also state that Booth’s name was on the manifest for the ship. Stanton then makes the conclusion that Surratt was traveling under Booth’s name with his trunk in order to sink the ship and fake the assassin’s death.

I was flabbergasted watching this entire portion of the episode. The whole sequence of events was complete fantasy and not at all grounded in reality. It was a storyline you’d expect to find in a piece of historical fiction “inspired” by the assassination, not in a series that takes its name from a largely well-respected nonfiction book on the subject. This time, the bones of the truth have not only been put in the wrong places, but the entire sculpture is completely unrecognizable.

On the night of Lincoln’s assassination, John Surratt was not in D.C. nor in Southern Maryland. He was in Elmira, New York, on a prospective scouting mission of a Union prison holding Confederate soldiers. While the writing was on the wall for the end of the Confederacy, not everyone was ready to accept defeat. A hair-brained scheme was hatched by General Edwin Lee, a cousin of Robert E. Lee and a Confederate agent in Canada, to attack and free the imprisoned Confederates. Surratt had been sent to Elmira to gather information and then report back. When Surratt learned that Lincoln had been killed and that Booth had done it, he realized that his earlier connection with Booth’s kidnapping plot would incriminate him. He traveled from Elmira to Canandaigua, NY, a town about seventy miles north. He was stuck in Canandaigua for Easter, April 16, as no trains were running. On the morning of April 17, the danger Surratt was in became even more acute when the newspapers erroneously reported that he had been the man who attacked Secretary of State William Seward. Rather than escaping right into Canada by way of Niagara Falls, Surratt traveled east to Albany and then north to Whitehall, NY. From there, he boarded a steamer that sailed north on Lake Champlain, which separates New York from Vermont. He got off in Burlington, VT, and then took a train to St. Albans and thence into Canada. By midday on April 18, John Surratt was in Montreal and checked in at the St. Lawrence Hall hotel under the name “John Harrison.”

Surratt did not stay at the St. Lawrence Hall for long. It was known to be a hotbed for Confederate agents, and when Louis Weichmann arrived in Montreal with detectives on April 20, they headed straight there to consult the hotel register. Luckily, with the assistance of General Lee, who knew Surratt had not been in Washington at the time of the crime, Surratt was able to find people willing to hide him. His first benefactor was John Porterfield, a Nashville Banker with a stately home in Montreal. But Porterfield was well known for his Confederate ties, so it was determined that it would be too dangerous for Surratt to stay there long. He was then secreted by John Reeves, a working-class Canadian tailor whose Confederate sympathies were not so well known. All the while, Montreal was becoming too hot as Weichmann and his detectives kept on Surratt’s trail, and news of the reward for Surratt spread. It was decided that Surratt had to be moved out of the city into someplace safer.

On April 22, between five and six o’clock in the morning, Surratt was disguised as a huntsman and carried out of the city. He was transported to Saint-Liboire, a small parish in rural Quebec about fifty miles east of Montreal. It is here that Surratt was officially hidden by members of the Catholic faith. Surratt was introduced to the parish priest at Saint-Liboire as Charley Armstrong, an American recovering from the war. Father Charles Boucher invited the man into his home with open arms and tended to “Armstrong” who was quite feverish and weak at the time. Within about ten days, Father Boucher came to suspect that the man he was caring for might be John Surratt, who was wanted in connection with Lincoln’s assassination. When the father asked “Armstrong” if he was Surratt, the fugitive admitted it and told the priest his story. Later, at John Surratt’s trial in 1867, when Father Boucher was asked why he did not turn Surratt in, the priest replied, “Because I believed him innocent.” Surratt remained with Father Boucher in the still-isolated parish of Saint-Liboire for the next three months.

John Surratt later claimed to be completely ignorant of the trouble that befell his mother in D.C. He claimed that the men who cared for him only gave him sparse updates on the events in Washington and severely downplayed the danger his mother was in. Whether this was true or Surratt’s own later attempts to justify his lack of action on behalf of his own mother, we’ll never know. Surratt was hiding in Saint-Liboire during the entirety of his mother’s trial and execution.

Near the end of July, a servant girl caught sight of Father Boucher’s secret houseguest, and Surratt was moved from Saint-Liboire as a precaution. The manhunt had cooled considerably over the past three months, especially after Booth’s death and the trial of the conspirators. Surratt was moved to the resort town of Murray Bay (known today as La Malbaie), Quebec, about two hundred miles northeast of Saint-Liboire. Surratt enjoyed the fresh air and open water of the St. Lawrence River for a few weeks before being moved back to Montreal. Returned to the city he started in four months earlier, this time Surratt was hidden in the home of a shoe dealer whose son was a Catholic priest, Father Lapierre. From his second-story windowed room, Surratt had a view of the garden of the Bishop’s Palace, but he was not out and about clipping roses in priestly garb.

After being hidden away for the past four months, Surratt was feeling helpless and too close to the country that would never stop looking for him. He desired to seek asylum somewhere across the ocean. After receiving so much help from members of the Catholic clergy during his time in Canada, Surratt suggested to General Lee that he might find sanctuary at the Vatican as a member of the Papal Zouves, the Pope’s own army. The plan was approved and Lee was probably grateful that Surratt had suggested a course of action that would remove him from under Lee’s care and patronage. On the evening of September 15, a carriage arrived at the home where Surratt had been hiding out since his return to Montreal in August. Father Boucher and Father Lapierre were there to help Surratt during this last part of his escape through Canada. Surratt disguised himself by dying his hair dark brown and wearing a pair of glasses. The three men took a steamship from Montreal to Quebec City where transatlantic ships departed from. Fathers Boucher and Lapierre bid farewell to Surratt as he boarded the steamer Peruvian on the morning of September 16. At about 10:30 that morning, the Peruvian steamed away from Quebec City on its way to Europe. John Surratt had successfully escaped out of Canada just about five months after he had arrived.

As you can see, Surratt was not betrayed by George Sanders or any other Confederate. It was Weichmann and detectives who searched for Surratt in Montreal, not Conover and Stanton. There were no close calls that resulted in Surratt laying down the fisticuffs. Rather than getting in and out of Canada in the week after Lincoln’s death, it took five months to get Surratt out of the country. He spent most of his time hiding out in a rural Quebec parish, not in the bustling city of Montreal. And, most laughably of all, Surratt did not travel under Booth’s name, nor did he sink an entire ship in order to fake Booth’s death.

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Quick Thoughts

Here are some more things that stood out to me while watching episode 3 that I just don’t have the time to go into deeply.

• Just a friendly reminder that Sandford Conover was a perjurer and a fraud who didn’t show up on the scene until the time of the Lincoln conspirators’ trial. All of his scenes in this series so far are fictional.
• Somehow, Stanton and the press know Lewis Powell’s real name from the beginning. But, there’s a reason why Betty Ownsbey named her biography on Powell Alias “Paine”: Lewis Thornton Powell, the Mystery Man of the Lincoln Conspiracy. In reality, Powell used a number of aliases. Even his fellow conspirators only knew him as “Mosby” or “Paine.” The government didn’t know his real name until long after the conspiracy trial had begun when he finally divulged his real identity to his defense attorney.
• A hood is aggressively placed on Powell’s head when Stanton interrogates him about Sanders’ clue about Surratt. The implication is that the hood was a torture device. While the conspirators who wore them probably considered them torturous, they were not used in such a way purposefully. The reason for the hoods was to prevent the conspirators from communicating with each other during their imprisonment.

• There are so many anachronistic terms in this series. Phrases like “double agent,” “stuntman,” “laundering money,” and others really pull you out of the period piece.
• Related to the last point, Stanton calls practically everyone by their first names or nicknames. William Seward is “Bill,” Andrew Johnson is “Andy,” and Joseph Holt is “Joe.” I suppose those nicknames are acceptable, but Stanton constantly calls Lincoln “Abe,” a nickname the President never liked very much. I also don’t like how Stanton addresses women by their first names, like Mary instead of Mrs. Lincoln or Elizabeth instead of Mrs. Keckley. Victorian rules of etiquette would not have allowed Stanton to be so casual with women such as the First Lady or her Black seamstress.
• Booth is still on about Richmond even after somebody finally told him that there is no Confederate leadership or adoring fans for him there. The real Booth was quite aware that Richmond had fallen and was occupied by the Union. He never would have wanted to go there.
• When Davy asks Oswell Swann why he doesn’t turn them in for the money, he replies that a Black man like himself would never be awarded reward money. While it’s true that the real Swann did not get a share of the reward, Susan Jackson, a Black servant at Mary Surratt’s boardinghouse, did receive $500 in reward money for information she gave about visitors to the Surratt home.
• “River Ghost” is not a period name for Thomas Jones. I’m pretty sure this is a descriptor Swanson made up for him in his book. It sounds all mysterious but it’s pretty silly to have Cox make statements such as “You don’t find the River Ghost. He finds you,” when, in reality, he sent his son over to Jones’s house to fetch him. When Jones came to Rich Hill as requested, Cox told his foster brother about Booth and Herold. Not to mention the River Ghost in this series looks more like Hagrid from Harry Potter rather than the scrawny Thomas Jones.

• You gotta love the code phrase for the Confederate cipher being taped to the bottom of the cipher cylinder itself. Good to know the Confederacy has the same security mindset as a grandmother who keeps all her computer passwords written on a Post-It-Note stuck to the front of her computer monitor.
• Speaking of the cipher, the super secret message that Eckert is finally able to decode is the phrase “Come Retribution.” This was actually the code phrase that replaced “Complete Victory” in Confederate ciphers starting in the final months of the war.
• Just to reiterate, the “Confederate cipher” found in Booth’s room is just a repeating grid of the alphabet. There were no actually coded letters found in Booth’s things. Click here to read an old post of mine about this nothing-burger of evidence.
• Trunks of Booth’s theatrical costumes and promptbooks were actually recovered from a shipwreck, but they had nothing to do with John Surratt or Booth faking his death. During Booth’s visit to Montreal in October of 1864, he met Patrick Charles Martin, a Baltimore liquor dealer turned Confederate smuggler. Martin is the man who gave Booth a letter of introduction to Dr. Queen in Charles County, which brought Booth into Southern Maryland for the first time. Martin was planning on running the Union blockade and traveling into the Confederacy. Having grandiose dreams of abducting Lincoln and taking him to Richmond, Booth wanted his theatrical wardrobe to be in the South for his future life there. He arranged for Martin to take his trunks of costumes on his ship bound for the Confederacy. However, Martin’s schooner, Marie Victoria, floundered in a storm and sunk two weeks later in the St. Lawrence River. All hands, including Martin, were lost. In late May of 1865, salvage operations were underway to recover some of Marie Victoria‘s cargo. When trunks belonging to John Wilkes Booth were discovered among the wreckage, they were transferred over the the U.S. consulate in Canada. Containing no secrets, the trunks were later auctioned off in admiralty court. Eventually, Edwin Booth managed to acquire his brother’s trunks from a third party. He kept John’s costumes and play books until a fire gutted the Winter Garden Theatre and destroyed them in 1867.

• I’m not sure the Canadian government would have allowed the U.S. Navy to operate on their soil or impede their trade in 1865.
• When Booth and Herold are in the pine thicket waiting to meet the “River Ghost,” Davy complains about the cold and begs Booth to let him light a fire even if the smoke may attract attention. This is correct logic and why the fugitives did not have campfires during their stay in the pines. But the smoke was not the only thing that might draw attention. The light of the fire could easily be spotted at night. Yet, here the pair sit with a bright lantern in the woods, drawing attention to themselves. Where did they get the lantern anyway? They certainly didn’t have it when Swann dropped them off, and Thomas Jones only makes his first appearance later in this scene. I feel like there are other ways to shoot night scenes that wouldn’t require the actors to have artificial illumination.
• Davy is unable to shoot his horse when instructed to by Booth. Instead he fires into the air, scaring the horse and sending it galloping off. This failure leads Booth to comment that Davy is “Useless. F*cking, useless.” I enjoyed the humor of this series taking Booth’s supposed final words (minus the expletive) and attributing them to his disappointment at Davy. However, much like Davy’s aim, this horse-shooting scene is way off the mark. While the horses did make too much noise in the pine thicket and had to be dispensed with, Booth did not take part in the proceedings. Instead, our best evidence states that David Herold was helped in this task by Franklin Robey, the overseer of Samuel Cox’s farm who escorted the men to the pine thicket. The pair took the horse a good distance away from the pine thicket and into the nearby Zekiah Swamp. After leading the horses into the swamp Herold and Robey shot them both and sunk their bodies where they would not be found. Then Herold rejoined Booth in the pine thicket. One wonders if the decision Will Harrison’s Davy makes to let a horse escape will come back to bite the pair.

• After shooting the horse, Booth tells Herold that his mother hired a soothsayer to predict his future. The mystic told the family that Booth would become a hero but would die young. While this is a very basic and slightly inaccurate summary of a true enough story. When Booth was 13, he attended Milton Boarding School near Cockeysville, Maryland. At around that time, a group of English gypsies were reported to be in the woods not far from the school. On his own, Booth sought out the fortune tellers to learn something of his future. A few days later, when his mother and sisters came to see him perform in a play for the closing of the school year, Booth pulled his sister Asia aside and showed her the fortune the gypsy had told him. He had written down what she said after the fact. The gypsy had said:
  

  Ah, you’ve a bad hand; the lines all cris-cras. It’s full length enough of sorrow. Full of trouble. Trouble in plenty, everywhere I look. You’ll break hearts, they’ll be nothing to you. You’ll die young, and leave many to mourn you, many to love you too, but you’ll be rich, generous, and free with your money. You’re born under an unlucky star. You’ve got in your hand a thundering crowd of enemies—not one friend—you’ll make a bad end, and have plenty to love you afterwards. You’ll have a fast life—short, but grand one. Now young sir, I’ve never seen a worse hand, and I wish I hadn’t seen it, but every word I’ve told is true by the signs. You’d best turn a missionary or a priest and try to escape it.

  Nothing in the gypsy’s prediction mentioned Booth becoming a hero, but I suppose it would be in Booth’s character to interpret this story in the best way possible.

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Those are my thoughts on the third episode of Manhunt, Let the Sheep Flee. We will have to wait and see if the series will continue to diverge even farther from the historical record. During my first watch-through I was angry at all the changes that were made. I know that some of these changes make the story more exciting, but the perfectionist in me still hates to see so many alterations to the truth, especially when some don’t seem to serve much of a purpose other than to add drama and intrigue. It wasn’t until my second watch-through that I was able to chill out a bit and resign myself to the fact that, like the Crystal Palace Dinosaurs, this series is just an impressive piece of fiction.

My review of the upcoming fourth episode will likely be delayed until after episode 5 airs. I have been devoting way too much time to these write-ups, and there are things coming up in my life that have to take precedence, including my actual job and a private speech I am giving soon about the real escape and manhunt for Booth. In addition, the great solar eclipse is going to be occurring right over my backyard in less than two weeks and I have family coming to stay with us during that time. I appreciate your patience as there is a bit of a lull in my historical reviews of this series.

Until next time,

Dave aka “The Bone Collector”

The first two episodes of the miniseries Manhunt, based on the book by James L. Swanson, were released on AppleTV+ on March 15, 2024. This is a historical review of the second episode, “Post-mortem.” If you want to avoid spoilers, I suggest you wait to read this review until after you have had a chance to watch this episode. If you would like to read the review for the prior episode, “Pilot,” click here.

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Episode 2: Post-mortem

In the second episode of Manhunt, we see our hero, Edwin Stanton, plagued by guilt over the death of Lincoln and desperate to catch the assassin before he escapes too far. The Secretary of War calls in others to help, but he is still everywhere in this episode. The new President, Andrew Johnson, is sworn in and makes his priorities for the nation clear. Also, in Washington, preparations are made for Lincoln’s body to be transported to Springfield, Illinois, on a whistle-stop tour of the grieving nation. Meanwhile, in Charles County, Maryland, John Wilkes Booth and David Herold finish their time at Dr. Mudd’s and meet up with Oswell Swann, who reluctantly agrees to act as their guide to Rich Hill. Also in this episode, we see the arrests of Lewis Powell and Mary Surratt, as well as some flashbacks involving the early life of Mary Simms and David Herold’s recruitment into the plot. John Surratt, Jr. makes his first appearance in the series, both in flashback form and in the timeline of the main story.

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There’s a lot of fact vs fiction to unpack in this episode. But before moving on to that, here are some things that I enjoyed about this second episode:

• Andrew Johnson

From the first time we meet him, it’s clear that this series is going to have more than one villain. The adversarial relationship between Stanton and Johnson is evident from the moment the Secretary of War enters Johnson’s room. Their icy retorts to each other are well-acted and hint at the action that later snowballed into Johnson’s impeachment – the suspension and firing of Stanton in 1867/68. From the start, Johnson is slimy and unpleasant…and I love it. Of course, the series is exaggerating a lot of the Johnson stuff. In particular, the idea that Johnson, on the same day as Lincoln’s death, would come anywhere close to saying that the country should just forget it and move on is ludicrous. He mourned Lincoln as much as anyone and was just as eager for vengeance on the assassins as Stanton. Remember, he’s the one who ignored the clemency plea for Mary Surratt and let her hang. But, while his quest to avenge Lincoln was strong, the rest of his Presidency was poor. Johnson was an obstinate and petty President who gave up on the Freedmen just when Black Americans needed a strong supporter the most. There’s a reason why Johnson is almost always at the bottom of Presidential rankings, right alongside James Buchanan, who did nothing to prevent the Civil War, and Trump, who tried to overthrow our democracy.

In Manhunt, Actor Glenn Morshower gives a great performance as Johnson, complete with a good Southern drawl for the North Carolinian turned Tennessean. I also have to give great props to the series’ makeup team for transforming Morshower into the spitting image of the 17th President. While our beardless Stanton may not look much like the real McCoy, his adversaries, Booth and Johnson, are well done.

I’m looking forward to seeing more of Johnson and his inevitable machinations in the episodes that follow.

• The Theme Song and Credits

I praised the music in my last review as well, but in this episode, we get to hear the theme song as intended during the complete opening credits. The theme song is called Egún by Danielle Ponder. Even if you haven’t watched (or aren’t going to watch) the series, you should still check out this song. You can listen to it on Spotify and Apple Music, but if you don’t have one of those services, here’s a YouTube video with the song.

YouTube has weird copyright rules regarding music, so I don’t know how long this video of the song will stay up. But give it a listen if you can.

The theme is even better in context with the opening credits, which we see for the first time in this episode. Various period images act as the background with a variety of effects. Some images act like wet plate photographs, transforming from negatives to positives before your eyes. Others become scratched or decay. Most have an effect like liquid or ice on the surface. The most compelling part of the credits shows the deathbed of Lincoln, and a pool of red blood slowly appears and grows on the pillows.

Watching this part of the credits inspired me to go back to Episode 1 and look more closely at the bed Lincoln died in at the Petersen House. It’s a little blurry in the stylized credits image, but the production did source a great lookalike bed. Their bed looks strikingly like the real bed in the Chicago History Museum. Replicating Willie Clark’s bed so closely shows great attention to detail on the part of the set dressers.

In addition to the main theme, this episode has a really catchy end-credit song that I haven’t gotten out of my head since I first heard it in the trailer for the series. It’s not on the official series soundtrack, probably because they are just licensing the song for inclusion in the show. By searching for the lyrics, I was able to find it. The song is called Devil’s Spoke, and it is performed by Laura Marling. It’s a real banger. Here’s the music video:

Both songs make for a great beginning and end to an episode, and I hope Devil’s Spoke is included in all the rest of the episodes that come.

• Shaving Booth

You might be surprised to learn that, despite it being nothing but a fictional flight of fancy on the part of the writers, I actually enjoyed the scene where Mary Simms attempts to shave John Wilkes Booth at the Mudd farm. This scene demonstrated Booth’s racism well, and the acting between Anthony Boyle and Lovie Simone was filled with genuine dramatic tension. As Simms brings the razor close to his face, the arrogant Booth realizes that he is not in the dominant position at the moment and is fearful that Mary might give back to him what he is owed. While her drawing blood is accidental, Booth’s rage is not, as he has to work hard to re-establish his own dominance. He threatens Mary, and she does flee, but he is the one left bleeding.

Watching Mary Simms sharpen that blade, it’s hard not to cheer for her to pull an Inglourious Basterds and take Booth out. It reminded me of the many “close calls” Booth experienced in his life, any one of which could have led to his death and thus saved Lincoln. Had the bullet from Matthew Canning’s gun just nicked Booth’s femoral artery when the young actor was accidentally shot in 1860, the course of American history would have changed forever.

As much as I enjoy this fictional shaving scene for the dramatic tension, I will point out that there was a noticeable continuity error here. As Booth grabs Simms’s hand after being cut and holds it close to her face, there’s clearly little to no shaving cream on the blade.

Yet, when he pushes the razor up to her lips, suddenly, there’s a lot of shaving cream that gets transferred onto Mary Simms’s mouth.

I doubt I was the only person to notice this during my first watch-through. Still, it doesn’t detract too much from the effect of the scene.

• Interrogating Louis Weichmann

In the first episode, we only caught a glimpse of actor C.J. Hoff in the role of Mary Surratt’s boarder, Louis Weichmann, as he looked suspiciously at the departing Lewis Powell (who had not actually stayed at the Surratt boardinghouse since March 17). In Episode 2, Weichmann has more of a role, first telling Stanton of his landlady’s possible connection to the plot and, later, escorting Stanton and Eckert down to Mrs. Surratt’s tavern in Maryland. We’ll cover all the things wrong with that imaginary event later, but I did find myself enjoying Hoff’s portrayal of Weichmann as Stanton and Eckert started laying into him about what he knows.

Weichmann comes across as scared and way over his head in trying to explain to his boss how he could have lived amongst people plotting against the President. When Stanton gets more forceful in his accusations, Weichmann deflects to Mrs. Surratt. This interrogation plays out much like I would imagine Weichmann’s first initial interviews actually went. Hoff is playing the role of the somewhat sympathics but also somewhat weasely Weichmann well. I’m looking forward to seeing more.

• Recreated photographs

On Stanton’s bulletin board in the War Department, there are several pictures connected to the conspirators. There are photographs of George Atzerodt, Lewis Powell, and Edman Spangler, who are all in custody on April 15th in the series’ fictional timeline. Each of these men is wearing lily iron handcuffs and replicating the mugshots of their real-life counterparts. These recreations aren’t perfect, and the background is a brick wall rather than the distinctive black gun turret of the USS Saugus, where the seated images of these men were actually taken. But it’s clear attention has been paid.

While these images are decent recreations of the originals, where the series has done a better job has been replicating the images of David Herold and Booth that were subsequently used on the wanted posters. Boyle’s Booth is holding a cane just like the real image, and the photo of a young David Herold has been very closely matched.

Like the closely matching deathbed, I appreciate this attention to detail.

Those were some of my favorite parts of “Post-mortem.” Now, let’s start breaking down the instances of dramatic license and historical inaccuracies present in this second episode.

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1. Edwin Stanton and the Longest Day Ever

I tell you, our poor hero needs a break. The man has been running around nonstop in these first two episodes. April 15th, in particular, was the day that just would not end for our main man. Allow me to recap everything that the first and second episodes have shown Edwin Stanton doing on April 15, 1865.

• He is present at the Petersen House all during the early morning hours after having arrived there late on April 14th.
• At 7:22 am, he mournfully cries at the death of the President.
• Eddie, Jr. brings a casket to the Petersen House, and Stanton takes part in a rainy funerary march with Lincoln’s coffin (likely back to the White House).
• He returns to Ford’s Theatre after the funerary march. The rain has now stopped.
• At Ford’s, Stanton acquires a photograph of Booth, is briefly interviewed by Sandford Conover, examines the President’s box, and interviews Peanut John.
• He waits for Edman Spangler outside of Ford’s and has him arrested.
• He visits the Petersen House as it is being photographed and talks to Conover again. Upon leaving the Petersen House, he yells at a man on the street hawking relics.
• He heads over to the National Hotel and searches the Booth’s room with Eckert.
• He makes his way back to the War Department and takes a much-needed nap, dreaming he is trying to stop Booth from shooting the President. This dream sequence of Stanton fighting with Booth reminded me of the scene from an animated Batman cartoon where the caped crusader takes on a mechanized John Wilkes Boom.
• He interviews the liveryman who rented Booth and Herold their horses.
• Louis Weichmann briefly talks to Stanton while he’s leaving the War Department. Luckily, he delegates going to the Surratt boardinghouse to Eckert.
• Instead of going to Mary Surratt’s, Stanton goes to the Kirkwood House and wakes up Andrew Johnson.
• He is present as Johnson is sworn in as the 17th President. His busy day so far has caused him to miss going to the cemetery to visit his dead son’s grave. Luckily, Mrs. Stanton understands.
• Stanton goes to the White House, where he chats with Elizabeth Keckley and Mrs. Lincoln about what disposition should be made of the President’s body.
• He returns to the War Department, where Col. Lafayette Baker has arrived from New York City after being summoned earlier that day (fast travel in those days, I guess).
• Eddie, Jr. has gained information on John Surratt, Jr. Eddie states that the Surratt Tavern in Maryland has been searched but nothing was found. Stanton decides he needs to search it, personally.
• He rides down to Surrattsville, Maryland, with Eckert and Weichmann in tow.
• Using his spidey-sense, Stanton finds a secret room in the Surratt Tavern with spy stuff in it, including a coded telegram.
• He returns to Washington and visits Mary Surratt and the male conspirators in prison. He interrogates them about where John Surratt and Booth are.
• He goes back to the War Department, unhappy that Eckert has not already deciphered the telegram they just found with the code they also just found that day.
• Peanut John visits the War Department, having failed to tell Stanton earlier that day that Booth looked like he had a broken leg. Stanton sends Luther Baker (who, like his cousin Layfette Baker, has teleported down from NYC) to the Mudd house to question him.
• Eddie, Jr. shows his dad a photograph of Lincoln’s second inaugural with Booth in it
• Sundown has finally come, and Stanton goes to a party at the White House in Johnson’s honor.
• He chats with Elizabeth Keckley at the party and laments that his department just missed catching Booth at Dr. Mudd’s house.
• Meanwhile, at the Stanton home (which he hasn’t apparently been to for about 24 hours now), a shadowy figure skulks around, scaring Mrs. Stanton.
• He returns to the War Department after the White House party, and Eckert is still hard at work deciphering. Eddie, Jr. reports that footprints have been found at his home. Stanton asks for John Surratt’s shoe size from the files (what a detailed clerkship application he must have filled out!)
• Stanton acquires a pair of shoes in John Surratt’s size and plays Sherlock Holmes, matching them to the footprints outside his house.

That, ladies and gentlemen, was Edwin Stanton’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad (and Endless) Day on April 15, 1865. Of course, I completely understand that the timeline of things needs to be accelerated as the miniseries only has 7 hours to tell the whole story it wants to tell. Still, I thought it might be interesting to see what the real Stanton did on April 15.

I know Edwin Booth better than I know Edwin Stanton, so I consulted Walter Stahr’s 2017 book, Stanton: Lincoln’s War Secretary, for a breakdown of his movements on that fateful day. A lot of the initial activities the series shows Stanton doing are correct. He was present at the Petersen House during the entirety of the death watch over President Lincoln. During that time, he was largely in the front parlor, sending out telegrams to the military authorities, starting the search for the assassins, as well as listening to eyewitness statements. When the President’s heart rate began to fall, and his breathing slowed, Stanton returned to the small back bedroom and witnessed Lincoln’s final gasps. He then spoke his iconic lines (or didn’t). After Lincoln’s death, the Cabinet members present in the Petersen House had an impromptu meeting, and they sent a formal notice to Vice President Johnson informing him that he needed to take the oath of office. While Johnson had visited the Petersen House during the deathwatch, he did not stay like other members of the cabinet. This retreat was likely out of respect for the mourning Mrs. Lincoln or perhaps the order of Stanton himself, not wanting the Vice President to be a target.

As is shown in the series, Stanton stays at the Petersen House with Lincoln’s body for a time until a casket is secured and brought. He oversees as the President’s body is wrapped in an American flag and loaded into the plain pine coffin. Stanton did take part in the slow funeral march following Lincoln’s wagon to the White House as shown in episode 1.

According to Stahr’s book, Stanton was not present when Johnson took the oath of office during the morning hours on April 15th. He posits that the Secretary was in the telegraph office sending messages to General Sherman and the American minister in London about the death of Lincoln. By noon, however, Stanton was at the Treasury Building and taking part in his first cabinet meeting with the new Commander-in-Chief. Johnson informed the men that he would do his best to follow the same policy as his predecessor (that commitment wouldn’t last long) and that he wanted them all to stay on in their positions. According to Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles, the new President “deported himself admirably” during this first meeting. At this point, everyone was on the same page: keep the country going and find the people responsible for this great crime.

During these hours,  an autopsy was performed on Lincoln at the White House. After this was completed, his body was embalmed and cleaned. At some point after his cabinet meeting with Johnson, Stanton went to the White House and supervised the dressing of the President’s body. The series hints at this event in the scene where Stanton speaks with Mrs. Lincoln and asks her what she wants him buried in.

The only other things Stahr has Stanton doing on this day are sending out messages to Henry Steel Olcott and Lafayette Baker in New York, requesting their presence in D.C. to help with the investigation. Already, he was looking for trusted men to whom he could delegate the hunt for the assassins. The fifty-year-old Stanton was likely exhausted by his real labors on April 15th and went home to sleep. When the cabinet met at ten o’clock the next day, Sunday, April 16, Secretary Welles noted that Stanton was “more than an hour late.” You have to give credit to Tobias Menzies’s Stanton for doing everything the real guy did and so much more, and still managing to stay on his feet.

2. The Arrests of Lewis Powell and Mary Surratt

One of the events shown on this very long April 15 is the arrest of both Lewis Powell and Mary Surratt. In reality, the arrests of these two conspirators did not happen until very late in the evening of April 17. Again, I’m not too upset with the incorrect timeline because this is undoubtedly an example of where the producers had to accelerate some events in order to keep things moving.

In this episode, Thomas Eckert (still one of my favorite characters) heads to the Surratt boardinghouse with Louis Weichmann to interview Mrs. Surratt. She admits to knowing Booth and having given him “cooking utensils.” During their interview, a knock comes at the door, and Eckert orders Mary to answer it. When she does, a beleaguered-looking Powell, wearing a shirt on his head and carrying a pickax, walks in, saying he didn’t know where else to go. Mrs. Surratt tries her best to get rid of him, but Eckert is immediately curious and asks Powell why he is there. He claims to be a laborer hired to dig a gutter, but Mary immediately undercuts him by saying she’s never seen the man before in her life. Weichmann points out the bloody coat, leading Powell to attempt to seize the pickax. Eckert is on him quickly and prevents Powell from fully brandishing the makeshift weapon. After some grappling on the floor, Eckert pulls his gun and points it at Powell’s face. This ends their scuffle. During the commotion, Mary had made a brief attempt to flee but stopped at Weichmann’s command and the drawing of his pistol. Mrs. Surratt falls to the ground in prayer as Eckert gets his own CSI Miami “Puts on Sunglasses” type moment with the line, “Now look at that. You did dig a hole together.”

I give the scene style points for adding a little fight between Eckert and Powell, but when it comes to the actual details of Powell’s arrival at the Surratt boardinghouse and his arrest, we’re a bit off course.

One of the great unknowns in the story of Lincoln’s death is where the tip connecting John Wilkes Booth to John Surratt in the immediate aftermath of the crime came from. The exact source is never recorded, but about four hours after the shooting, General Augur, who commanded the defenses of Washington, sent detectives to the Surratt boardinghouse on H Street to search for John Surratt. The household was largely asleep and had not yet heard about the assassination. The detectives interrogated the household, including Louis Weichmann and Mrs. Surratt, about the whereabouts of John Surratt. Both stated that he hadn’t been in the city in about two weeks. After searching the place, the detectives left, and Weichmann was left to mull over the news that Booth had shot the President and that his friend and landlady may have been involved. The next morning, Weichmann read more of the details in the paper and had breakfast at the boardinghouse. Reading about the attack on Seward’s home, he knew he had to get ahead of this thing he was partially wrapped up in. Instead of going to Stanton or the War Department where he worked, Weichmann went to the D.C. Metropolitan Police and started telling them about the various visitors to Mrs. Surratt’s boardinghouse, including Atzerodt, “Payne,” and Booth.

Rather than being arrested and held as a possible coconspirator, Weichmann was pressed into service as a detective, helping to track the assassins down. In his memoirs, he claimed to have traveled with other detectives to the home of David Herold near the Navy Yard and procured Davy’s image from his mother. He also states that he and others rode horses down into Maryland along the same road Booth and Herold took. They scoured the area on the way to Surrattsville with no success. So, the idea of Weichmann acting as a guide to the Surratt Tavern, as shown in the series, has some factual basis. Having not found Booth (he was still resting at the Mudd house at this point), the men returned to D.C., where Weichmann slept in the police station. The next morning, April 16, Weichmann and a posse of detectives traveled to Baltimore under a tip that Atzerodt might be found there. They spent all day in Baltimore but did not find anything helpful, so they returned to Washington. The next day, April 17, Weichmann was authorized by Gen. Augur to join a group of detectives heading for Canada in search of John Surratt. They left that day, and Weichmann would spend several days in Montreal, hot on the trail of Surratt, before being ultimately ordered by Edwin Stanton back to Washington. Stanton was furious that an important witness (and possible conspirator) had been allowed to leave the country. In this way, we see that the real Weichmann was not around for the arrest of Lewis Powell and Mary Surratt on the night of April 17. He was on his way up to Canada with a posse of detectives at the time.

By April 17, the authorities had heard enough about the past happenings at the boardinghouse to know that they needed to bring the entire household in for questioning. A squad of detectives arrived that night and informed Mrs. Surratt and all of her boarders that they were being taken in. It was while the detectives were waiting for a coach to carry all the women away that Lewis Powell made his incredibly ill-timed arrival. It was a detective, not Mrs. Surratt, who answered the door and, in this way, Powell found himself trapped. The detectives asked him the same question we see Eckert ask, along with a few more about his life as a “laborer.” Powell was somewhat differently attired than the one in the series. The real Powell had been smart enough to shed his bloodstained coat rather than walk around the city with it. It had been found near the outskirts of Glenwood Cemetery on the afternoon of April 16 by an infantry private.

Having also lost his hat, Powell was forced to construct a makeshift one. At some point during his three days of hiding out, he had cut off the end of his knit undershirt’s sleeve. He tied up one of the openings and then wore the sleeve remnant in the form of a stocking cap. While the series does show Powell creatively hatted, he was not wearing an entire shirt on his head.

The shift from a nighttime to a daytime arrival of Powell at the boardinghouse alters Mrs. Surratt’s story considerably, especially when it comes to her defense. As the detectives talked with Powell in the entryway of the house, the coach arrived to transport the household. Having learned from this stranger that he was apparently there to dig a gutter, Mrs. Surratt was asked, as she walked past him out the door, whether this was so. Looking at the man in the dim gaslight, she declared she had hired no man and had never seen the man before in her life. Later, of course, it was proven that Powell had lodged at the boardinghouse for two separate extended stays. Like Dr. Mudd’s denial of recognizing Booth when he came to his home, Mrs. Surratt’s failure to recognize Powell was fairly damning to her case. However, her defense had much more to work with. They established that Mrs. Surratt was very nearsighted, and they brought forth witnesses to say she had difficulty seeing at night. It was very late in the evening when the arrests occurred, and the gaslight had been turned down low. Dr. Blaine Houmes, a dear friend and fellow Lincoln researcher who has since passed, once gave a talk about the different medical aspects of the assassination story, and he chose to address Mary’s eyesight. He attempted to recreate what she might have seen based on descriptions of her eyesight and the described lighting in the hallway where Powell stood. This is what he came up with in trying to duplicate the scene.

I will note that Dr. Houmes was no Mary Surratt apologist and definitely felt she knew about what was being planned in her household. But we must remember that Mrs. Surratt was essentially just being walked past the man when the question of her hiring a laborer was posed to her, so she did not have long to study the man’s face. All of these factors make it possible that Mary truly didn’t recognize Powell at the moment. By placing this event during the daytime with Mary answering the door, seeing Powell clearly, and fleeing at the first chance she gets, the series has decided to remove all doubt as to whether she knew who he was or what he had done. As a person who definitely falls on the side that Mary Surratt was guilty and knew the assassination was going to take place, I still wish this scene had been a bit more ambiguous about Mary, especially this early on. But, again, I know this isn’t The Conspirator movie or even a show about Mary Surratt, so removing any doubt as to her guilt early on was probably the best way for this show to go about it so that it can really focus on Stanton and the manhunt.

3. Herold’s Trip to Bryantown

The first time in episode 2 that we see the fugitives, Booth is already hopping around the Mudd farm. This is in defiance of Dr. Mudd’s claim that he wouldn’t be up and about for two months with his fractured tibia. However, since Booth actually broke his fibula, it makes sense that he is up and about. Also, I have to print a retraction of one of my criticisms from episode 1. My friend Bob Bowser pointed out to me that while, yes, Booth definitely broke his left fibula, in his statement to the authorities on April 22, Dr. Mudd tells them Booth broke his left tibia.

Whether claiming the incorrect bone was broken is an error of memory on Dr. Mudd’s part or a deliberate lie to make Booth seem more wounded than he was, we can’t be sure. Having been told this, I’m a little bit better with the series having Mudd claim it was Booth’s tibia that was broken. At the very least, it can demonstrate that Dr. Mudd wasn’t the greatest doctor. But the wrong leg being broken is still a pretty big oopsy.

Anyway, Booth is up and about the Mudd farm and inquires to Davy how long it will take them to get to Richmond. Davy says a few days but that the horses need to graze first. Booth is insistent that their city horses will do better with oats or hay, but Davy says Mudd is low on supplies and that the doctor doesn’t want to go into town and attract attention. After some persuasion, Booth convinces Davy to ride into Bryantown to get horse feed and whiskey. When Herold suggests Booth shave his mustache, Booth angrily refuses claiming it is his “signature look.”

We then cut to Davy walking to Bryantown with a hand truck, intent on getting the vitally important food for the horses. But, due to Stanton’s orders in episode 1 to cut off all horse feed sales in the state of Maryland, Davy is stymied by a big sign next to the store. Unable to accomplish his task, he turns around and wheels his dolly back the way he came.

So, what’s the truth in this scene? Well David Herold did travel towards Bryantown on April 15. His purpose in traveling there was not to get horse feed but to see if he could secure a wagon that would make transporting the injured Booth easier. Though the series makes it seem like Dr. Mudd did not want to go to Bryantown, the doctor actually accompanied Herold for part of his journey there. On their way, they stopped at Dr. Mudd’s father’s farm and asked about a possible wagon or carriage, but they were told that none were available for use, especially since the next day was Easter and the family would need them to get to church on Easter morning. Herold and Mudd continued toward Bryantown but when they got within sight of the village, Herold observed that Union troops were in the city. They had just arrived that afternoon and were the first ones to inform the populace of the shooting of Lincoln the night before. Not wanting to risk capture (even though Herold’s name and involvement were probably not known to these soldiers yet), Davy turns around and rides back towards the Mudd farm to inform Booth. Dr. Mudd, meanwhile, causally visits the village intent on completing some shopping. He will always claim that it wasn’t until he was there in Bryantown that he learned that Lincoln had been assassinated. Unless Booth and Herold blabbed to him upon their arrival, this would have been his first opportunity to learn the news. The information gets the gears turning in Dr. Mudd’s mind, but he shows no great urgency to get back home. He finishes his shopping and even chats with neighbors about the news on his way back home.

I understand the series’ need to justify Stanton’s earlier order to cut horse feed, but I can’t help but feel that it would have been more dramatic for Herold to retreat from Bryantown at the sight of Union soldiers on the manhunt. It would more accurately show how close the authorities got to their prey at times, even if they didn’t know it.

4. The Signature Look

Immediately after Davy turns his hand truck around, the series shows a flashback of him from a year earlier. He is shown working as a pharmacist’s clerk, which was the young man’s real job. I was glad that the series gave some of Davy’s history, as this is often ignored. The scene shows John Surratt, Jr. for the first time as he talks of recruiting Davy into something big. This scene is completely fictitious and places the plot and John Surratt’s involvement in it way earlier than it should. Booth did not even come up with his plan to abduct the President until August of 1864. John Surratt did not meet Booth until just before Christmas of 1864 when he was introduced to the actor by Dr. Mudd (with Louis Weichmann present). While we don’t know the details of Davy’s recruitment, he had been familiar with the actor since the spring of 1863 when he went backstage after a performance at Ford’s Theatre and met Booth. So John Surratt’s offer to introduce Davy to Booth is completely backward. If anything, in April of 1864, Davy should have offered to introduce Surratt to Booth, seeing as he actually knew him at the time. What this completely fictitious scene does get right is Herold still being star-struck by the actor. This is demonstrated by Davy’s admiring tone regarding Booth and his having a playbill featuring JWB on the wall of the pharmacy.

We get a partial tracking closeup on the playbill and see that it is supposed to be from the famous New York performance of Julius Caesar the three Booth brothers did to raise money for a statue of William Shakespeare in Central Park. This performance actually happened in November of 1864, and no illustration of Booth or his brothers graced the face of the actual playbill. What this playbill shows is Booth’s so-called “signature look” as he plays a mustachioed Marc Antony.

While it’s true that in practically all of the photographs we have of John Wilkes Booth, he is wearing a mustache, that doesn’t mean he never shaved it off, especially when acting. In fact, the images taken after this specific performance of the Booth brothers are the ones that show him clean-shaven.

So, I found it a little unusual that Booth would be so adamant against shaving off his mustache in the series. As Davy aptly points out, his “signature look” is a sure-fire way to be recognized.

During the scene where Mary Simms comes to shave Booth’s face, his remaining uncertainty of whether to lose the ‘stache is also confusing since there really is nothing else for her shave. He is not shown wearing the fictitious fake whiskers that Dr. and Mrs. Mudd tried to claim he wore (which I appreciate), but he also doesn’t have enough stumble to even make shaving the rest of his face worth it. Luckily, after his confrontation with Simms, Booth has wisely made the correct choice to remove his mustache and is shown with a bare upper lip.

5. Mary Simms’s Backstory

Actress Lovie Simone has some great performances in this episode as Mary Simms comes face to face with the assassin, reflects on her backstory, and learns of Lincoln’s death by authorities who come to question Dr. Mudd. It’s important to remember that the Mary Simms in this series is a fictional character with only some basis on the real woman who was enslaved by Dr. Mudd and then left at the end of 1864 when slavery was abolished in Maryland. There were real Black servants on the Mudd farm during the time Booth was there who observed and interacted with the fugitives, but only a little bit of their experiences make up this composite Simms. The real Mary Simms bravely testified at the trial of the conspirators about the mistreatment she had received at the Mudd farm during slavery and of Dr. Mudd’s own disloyal statements and actions during the Civil War. The four other men and women who had been enslaved by Dr. Mudd and testified against him were her brothers Milo Simms and Elzee Eglent, along with Rachel Spencer and Melvina Washington. They are to be commended for speaking out. In total, out of the 347 people who testified at the trial of the Lincoln assassination conspirators, 29 of them were people of color. A few years ago, I wrote a final paper for one of my Master’s classes on the topic of these Black voices at the Lincoln assassination trial. If you are interested in reading more about these folks and the path to their testimonies, you can read the post here.

So, while I’m not going to spend too much time on Mary Simms since this version of her is a fictional character, I did want to address the backstory given to her in this episode. After retreating from Booth following the shaving scene, we are given a flashback of a young Mary in the free state of Pennsylvania playing cards with her uncle. Suddenly, a knock at the door informs Uncle Henry that “Mr. G.” is up here with marshals and that they have captured four men. This news sends the household scattering for weapons with which to defend themselves. Young Mary is frightened that Mr. G. and the marshals have come for her.

Uncle Henry confronts the posse of white kidnappers, telling them this isn’t Maryland. Mr. G. counters he has the right to reclaim his property. As the four already captured men are being placed in a wagon, white abolitionists from the neighborhood arrive. Uncle Henry tells Mr. G. to leave, but the leader is intent on being the bounty for little Mary. The scene ends with Uncle Henry grabbing for a gun in his waistband. Later in the episode there is another flashback of young Mary, seemingly after the unseen events from the first scene. It is now daytime and Mary returns to her cabin looking for her uncle. Unfortunately, the white kidnappers are inside waiting for her. They grab her and haul her away in a wagon as a Black man with a cane arrives and is unable to stop them.

Unfortunately, like so many people who were born into slavery, we don’t know the early life or backstory of the real Mary Simms. In truth, aside from the different testimonies at the conspiracy trial and an 1860 enumeration of the number and ages of people Dr. Mudd enslaved at that time, we have practically no documentation of her life. Mary Simms was 19 years old in 1860, according to the slave census. In all likelihood, she had originally been enslaved by Dr. Mudd’s father, Henry Lowe Mudd, Sr., and was then given to the son upon the doctor’s marriage and the completion of his home in 1859. In her testimony before the court, Mary Simms makes it clear that she had only lived with Dr. Mudd for around four years before she left. It would have been more appropriate for young Mary Simms to fear a return to slavery under “Mr. [Henry Lowe] Mudd” rather than Dr. Mudd.

It’s also possible that Mary had been enslaved by a relative of Mrs. Mudd’s. In the 1860 census, one of the people living at the Mudd house is Mrs. Mary Jane Simms. She was the widow of Joseph Simms but her maiden name was Dyer, as was Mrs. Mudd’s. The two ladies were first cousins. Given the habit of enslaved people, especially those born to a specific family, taking the last name of their enslavers, it’s possible that our Mary Simms had been born into slavery under the Simms family and then came to belong to Dr. Mudd after Joseph Simms died and his wife moved in with her cousin in 1859. This is just conjecture on my part.

I don’t find fault with the series making a more compelling backstory for Mary Simms. The actions of manhunters and kidnappers in the free states were a real threat to both freedmen and freedom seekers. This scene is clearly inspired by the real 1851 event of the Christiana Resistance.

The ending credits for this episode confirm the “Mr. G” in the scene is Mr. Gorsuch. In addition, the man who comes to warn Uncle Henry is credited as William Parker. The real Christiana Resistance was an important event in the antebellum period and one that actually worked to radicalize young John Wilkes Booth against the abolitionist cause. If you haven’t already read my deep dive into the Christiana Resistance, I implore you to check it out. It’s a story that far too few people know about, and yet it deserves to have an entire movie or miniseries made about it. While I would have preferred this series to have shown the Christiana Resistance in reference to Booth’s radicalization rather than as part of Mary Simms’ fictional backstory, I was still happy to see Manhunt give a nod to this important event.

Quick Thoughts

As you might imagine, it takes quite a long time for me to compose these historical reviews. I’m constantly consulting books in my library and a variety of digital sources to make sure what I write is backed up with sources. I pride myself on giving as much background on a subject as I can. But the truth is, I just don’t have the time right now to thoroughly cover every instance of dramatic license in Manhunt. I’ve spent more than 15 hours working on this review alone, and that is just not sustainable with my work and life commitments.

So, I’m going to end this review (and likely the ones that come) by just summarizing some of the additional scenes or events that stuck out to me while watching this episode. While some of these aspects probably deserve to be fully fleshed out and explained more, I just don’t want to get burned out trying to thoroughly cover every single thing in the show. Next time, I will try and do a better job of focusing on the biggest points first, rather than just covering the episode in a chronological order as I did here. But I didn’t realize how long this single review was going to take me until several hours in. I apologize that the following points are lacking in detailed explanation, but it’s the best I can do this time.

• Dr. Mudd: This series shows a very different interpretation of Dr. Mudd than what has been portrayed in the past. In many ways, the Dr. Mudd shown in Manhunt is the antithesis of the “innocent country doctor” that the 1936 film The Prisoner of Shark Island portrayed. It is refreshing to see an antidote for Dr. Mudd’s “folk hero” status in the minds of many in the general public. I’m glad that this series is shining a light on Dr. Mudd’s role as an enslaver. However, the series is taking quite a bit of dramatic license in its portrayal of Mudd’s actions relating to Booth. Even though I think Dr. Mudd was a willing participant in the kidnapping plot, there is no evidence that he drew out a map for the fugitives, directed them to Rich Hill, and told them to eat the map if caught. And the ending scene of this episode in which John Surratt stays at the Mudd house on the night of April 16, is completely imaginary. John Surratt was nowhere close to D.C. or Maryland I’m sure we’ll see more of Mudd in episodes to come, and I might go into him a bit more then. But, for now, just remember that no depiction of Dr. Mudd as being completely innocent or completely guilty is an accurate one.
• Richmond: I don’t know why Booth is so keen to get to Richmond. The Confederate capital fell to the Union on April 3, and President Lincoln even toured the city afterward. If anything, Booth would have wanted to avoid Richmond because of the presence of so many Union troops.
• Surrattsville “Boardinghouse”: Many people get Mary Surratt’s boardinghouse in D.C. and tavern in Maryland confused. This series is no exception, as it also calls her tavern a boardinghouse in the caption that comes up during Stanton’s imaginary visit there.
• Secret Room: When John Surratt, Jr. was the postmaster at Surrattsville in 1863, he helped Confederate agents secretly transport letters across the line. This was done by placing an addressed letter bound for the Confederacy into an additional outer envelope addressed to a fictional person in Surrattsville. As postmaster, John would separate these letters out and then give them to Confederate couriers and smugglers who would cross with them over the Potomac River into Virginia. They would then remove the fictitious outer envelope, see the intended recipient in the South, and enter the letters into the Confederate mail system. If you were in the Confederacy and wanted to send a letter to someone in the Union, you addressed the letter with the correct information but did not put a stamp or return address on it. The letters would be smuggled across the Potomac to post offices like Surratt’s, where the rebel-leaning postmaster would stamp the letter and send it on its way using the U.S. mail system. It was an effective process, but Surratt was only postmaster for a few months before he was caught by Union authorities with Confederate mail and was removed as postmaster. The post office was then moved away from the Surratt tavern. Needless to say, there was no secret spy room at the Surratt Tavern, and the coded telegraph to John Surratt, Jr. from ‘The Office of Jefferson Davis” has no basis in reality. After losing his position as postmaster, John Surratt became a courier, transporting the mail and doing escort jobs for the disorganized Confederate “Secret Service.” Even when Surratt hyped up his clandestine activities after the war, he still comes across as a minor errand boy.
• “Cooking Utensils”: Mary Surratt claims she gave Booth “cooking utensils” as actors on the road as want to need. I’m not sure where this comes from. The closest thing I can think of is the pair of field glasses that Mary Surratt took down to her tavern on April 14 for Booth. Weichmann drove her down during this trip and saw the package but didn’t know what it was or who it was for. If I remember correctly, at one point, he said he thought it was perhaps a bunch of saucer plates stacked up. So this may be what the series is going for.
• Imprisonment: Stanton is shown visiting Mary Surratt and the other male conspirators in prison. Putting aside that no conspirators were arrested on April 15th, it’s unclear where this prison is meant to be. When Mary was arrested, she was initially held as a witness in the Carrol Annex of the Old Capitol Prison. As each of the men was arrested (minus Dr. Mudd), they were placed aboard the USS Saugus and USS Montauk at anchor in the Anacostia River. This was to prevent a possible mob from being able to access any land prison for fear if Booth was captured alive, an effort would be made to lynch him. Eventually, all of the main conspirators were transferred to the Old Arsenal Penitentiary, where their trial also occurred.
• No Real Threat to Stanton: Near the end of the episode, we see a shadowy John Surratt skulking outside of Stanton’s home on the night of April 15th. While it adds a degree of peril for our hero, nothing like this occurred. At the trial of the conspirators, an effort was made by the prosecution to place Michael O’Laughlen near the Secretary of War’s house on the evening of April 13th. This was during the Grand Illumination celebration. O’Laughlen was in D.C. and a few witnesses, including David Stanton, the Secretary’s nephew, claimed that a man fitting O’Laughlen’s description came to the house and asked about the Secretary. However, O’Laughlen’s defense team convincingly proved through a number of witnesses that O’Laughlen and his friends were partying a good distance away from Stanton’s home on April 13. It doesn’t look like this series is going to include Michael O’Laughlen or Samuel Arnold, both members of the abduction plot who bowed out before Booth shifted his plans to assassination.
• We’re on different timelines: Not to get all Marvel Cinematic Universe on you all, but it’s important to note that Stanton, Booth, and Mary Simms each end episode 2 on three different days, though exactly which days are not quite clear. The easiest known one is Mary Simms’s. This episode covers her experiences from Booth’s time at Mudd’s on April 15 to the morning of April 17, when she heads to the market and sees Booth’s wanted poster. The scene where Luther Baker comes to talk to Mudd about his guests is supposed to take place on April 15, the same day Booth leaves. We know this because, at the end of the scene, Mudd tells Mary and Milo to get to work because it “ain’t Easter yet.” Easter was on April 16 in 1865. We know that Booth’s arrival, departure, and the authorities’ arrival at the Mudd farm are all supposed to happen on the 15th because both Mary Simms and Dr. Mudd are wearing the same clothes in these scenes. Later, when John Surratt showed up, I originally thought this was still an April 15th event. But we can see that Mudd and Mary Simms have changed clothes in this scene. In addition, when Mudd tells Surratt he’d never guess what visitor he had, Surratt replies jokingly with “the Easter bunny” which makes sense if this was supposed to take place on the evening of April 16, Easter Sunday. Dr. Mudd orders Mary to go to the market the next day (April 17th) and this is the last time we see her. So, Mary Simms ends the episode on Monday, April 17th. Meanwhile, Stanton survives his longest day ever and visits with William Seward on the morning of April 16. Then he goes to the War Department, where Eddie Stanton suggests the Lincoln Funeral Train idea, which his dad approves and starts working on. The episode ends with Stanton, in the rain, bidding goodbye to Mrs. Lincoln and watching the funeral train depart. In reality, the Lincoln funeral train did not leave Washington until April 21st, and Mrs. Lincoln was not on board. We are unable to conclude what day we leave Stanton on in this episode. While it’s very hard to believe he was able to plan and execute the funeral train on the same day, April 16, you never know with Super Stanton. Booth and Herold never seem to leave April 15th. After leaving Dr. Mudd’s, they search for Rich Hill before meeting up with Oswell Swann, who reluctantly agrees to act as their guide. If this is still the 15th for Booth and Herold, then aside from the men traveling during the daylight hours, the series accurately shows the fugitive’s movements. They came upon Swann at around 9:00 pm and hired him to help them across the Zekiah Swamp. The ending scene of Swann, Booth and Davy riding fast through a random town is all for excitement purposes. In reality, Swann took the pair causally across the main roads to Rich Hill, and the fugitives were just lucky enough not to run into anyone else during their nighttime ride in the country. So Booth and Herold are on April 15, Mary Simms in on April 17, and Stanton is either on April 16 or some unknown rainy date in the future. EDIT: Right when I was looking to get a screen grab of the final scene with Booth racing through the unspecified village to close this review with, I noticed that in front of the church is a cross draped with a white sheet, signifying that Christ has arisen. This would imply that this riding scene is supposed to be happening on Easter Sunday, April 16.

Okay, so it turns out even my attempts at “quick” thoughts become overly verbose. I hope you’ll forgive me.

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When I was sharing my initial disappointment over the mistakes in Manhunt with my wife, Jen, she asked me if I had ever seen the 2008 miniseries John Adams. I told her I loved that show when it aired and eagerly watched all the episodes. She then asked me how historically accurate John Adams was. I told her I had no idea. I assume they probably changed a bunch of stuff to make it more dramatic, but since I’m not a John Adams expert, I couldn’t tell you what those changes were. My brilliant lawyer wife then completed her well-developed argument by saying, “So there could have been a lot of historical mistakes in John Adams that you didn’t notice or even care about because you’re not an expert on John Adams. And yet, you still found the overall story and historical characters compelling. That’s how I am enjoying Manhunt.” Now Jen knows far more than the average person about Lincoln’s assassination. We met when I was a guest on her podcast covering the Booth escaped conspiracy theory. On her own she has noticed many things in the show that are different than what she’s read, but none of this has taken away from her enjoyment of the series. She has watched the series with me and has suffered through my constant squawking about how this-or-that is wrong to varying degrees. Yet she still loves the show and is looking forward to Friday’s episode, even knowing she will have to suffer through me again. That, if nothing else, should show you how good and compelling this series really is. Sure, it takes a lot of dramatic liberties and strays really far from the actual events. My little perfectionist historian brain has a tiny little conniption each time I see something that is wrong But I look over at Jen and see how much she is enjoying it, and I realize that I owe the writers of this series a debt of gratitude. This series is going to be great at bringing new and much-needed voices into our area of history. It’s too easy to become jaded and dismiss anything that doesn’t live up to our personal expectations. But the truth is, no media portrayal is ever going to be able to meet the expectations of an expert on a certain topic. While our visions of how things should be are well-informed and based on evidence, we are not the intended audience. Nor should we be.

Until next time,

Dave

The first two episodes of the miniseries Manhunt, based on the book by James L. Swanson, were released on AppleTV+ on March 15, 2024. This is a historical review of the first episode, “Pilot.” If you want to avoid spoilers, I suggest you wait to read this review until after you have had a chance to watch the premiere. A separate post will follow, reviewing the second episode, which was also released on this date.

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Episode 1: Pilot

The series opens on April 14, 1865, with the citizens of Washington, D.C., continuing to celebrate the effective end of the Civil War. While the Grand Illumination ceremony was the night before, we are shown residents of the nation’s capital from all walks of life marching, singing, and celebrating. The noise from their revelry causes an unseen man to shut his window forcefully, silencing their voices. Upon his hand, in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, we see the tattooed initials “JWB.”

In my opinion, this was an incredible way to introduce the audience to the villain of this drama. For the next minute, we follow the assassin’s hands as he readies himself for the events to come. He gathers his weapons and supplies before heading out. He meets up with his fellow conspirator, David Herold, and pays for their rental of two horses. It is then that the first real lines of the show are uttered. Booth tells Davy to, “Round up everybody. It’s a go!”

And with that, the long-awaited Manhunt miniseries begins. Before the title card comes up, we’re put straight into the action. We witness Lewis Powell’s attack on the Seward household before cutting back to Booth eyeing the President and First Lady as they arrive at Ford’s Theatre. We aren’t introduced to our leading man, Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, until after the title card fades, and he is alerted to a “break-in” at the Seward home. Then Booth arrives at the backstage door of Ford’s Theatre, where willing stagehand Ned Spangler accepts his duty to hold Booth’s horse even though he has some scene shifting to do inside. Meanwhile, Stanton arrives at the Seward home and sees the vast amount of bloodshed caused by the unknown assailant.

I won’t continue to give an entire play-by-play of the episode here. My ability to describe the events on screen pales in comparison to actually seeing the high production values of the show itself. For the rest of the 54-minute episode, we witness events take place through a combination of tracking events and flashbacks, a style we are likely to see throughout the series. Suffice it to say, this episode covers many different events, including:

• The War Department and President Lincoln receiving word of General Lee’s surrender on April 9
• Booth getting his mail at Ford’s Theatre and learning of Lincoln’s attendance on April 14
• Lincoln inviting Stanton to Ford’s Theatre that night, and the Secretary of War declining
• Booth drinking at the Star Saloon before the shooting
• The assassination of Lincoln and Booth’s leap to the stage
• Booth crossing the Navy Yard bridge out of Washington
• Stanton arriving on the scene outside Ford’s Theatre and making his way into the Petersen House
• Booth meeting up with Herold near Sopher’s Hill
• The death of Lincoln at 7:22 am on April 15
• Booth and Herold’s arrival at the Mudd farm and the doctor’s setting of Booth’s leg
• The removal of Lincoln’s body from the Petersen House
• The search of Booth’s room at the National Hotel

Most of the events not involving Booth have been altered in some form in order to make Stanton the central figure in the drama. Some of the more fictitious scenes are Stanton talking to Peanut John and a meddling newspaper reporter in the lobby of Ford’s Theatre. We also see the Secretary searching the Presidential box himself and finding Booth’s murder weapon. These Stanton-centric scenes, while imaginary, make sense in the context of the show. This is a Stanton series, after all, so he has to be the one calling all the shots and making the big discoveries. Stanton likewise takes part in searching Booth’s hotel room and finds an enigmatic cipher partially burned in the fireplace. The discovery leads Stanton’s number two, Thomas Eckert, to pose the question, “What if the Confederacy is behind the assassination?” This leads Stanton to reply with the episode-ending line, “I’d have to start another war.”

Before getting into the details regarding some of the more fanciful and historically inaccurate moments in the episode. I have a few big takeaways from seeing this first episode.

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First, the show looks absolutely fantastic. This was already pretty evident from the trailers, but I was still struck by how amazing the costumes and sets were for this show. Aside from some limitations they had with the interior of Ford’s Theatre, everything in the show looks period. Even some of the outdoor shots, where it’s clear computer-generated imagery was used to create the background of wartime Washington, look well composed. In addition, the editors did a great job when it comes to color-grading the show. The tonal quality of both the indoor and outdoor shots perfectly evokes the time period. There is great attention to detail on the part of the costuming. I was delighted to see Booth’s hand was not only appropriately tattooed, but he wore a pinky ring as he was often photographed with. The fabrics and types of outfits all fit the period and show the variation of styles that existed.

Second, the acting is very good. While I still say that lead Tobias Menzies should have been adorned with Stanton’s signature skunk beard, by the end of the episode, his charisma in the role caused me to forget about it. Menzies plays Stanton in a very sympathetic way in this episode. He’s quite different than practically all other portrayals of the gruff Mars, Lincoln’s own “God of War.” There is logic to this, for while a more cantankerous Stanton might be more accurate, it’s hard to believe an audience would support such a portrayal as their leading man. Over the course of seven hour-long episodes, I’ll take a softer, beardless Stanton that’s easier to empathize with. Anthony Boyle still looks great as Booth and plays the role well. At the moment my only criticism of Booth is more with the writing than the performance. The writing isn’t bad, but it punches down a bit at Booth, removing some of the complexity of his character. He’s referred to as an actor who plays “supporting roles” and one who is “smaller in person.” So far, the only motivation given for Booth’s actions seems to be a professional and personal rivalry between himself and his father/brother. He’s portrayed as a racist, as he should be, but in this first installment, we don’t get a good grasp of why he decided to kill Lincoln. Given the series’ love of flashbacks, I’m hopeful we’ll learn more about Booth’s background in future episodes. My favorite acting performance so far is that of Damian O’Hare in the role of Thomas Eckert. The man looks a lot like Eckert to begin with and, as a sidekick of sorts, he has a lot of great interactions with Menzies’ Stanton. I’m looking forward to seeing more of Eckert going forward.

Third, the music is great. The specially written theme song for the series only shows up at the end as the credits roll. However, the song, written and performed by Danielle Ponder, is incredibly catchy and fits the series well. The underlying score is composed by Bryce Dessner and is a great tonal match for the action on screen. The soundtrack for the series is already available on platforms like Apple Music and Spotify. I’ve been listening to the score while composing this post. There’s some great music to look forward to in future episodes.

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Let’s dive now into some of the more, shall we say, “creative” aspects of the show. No single miniseries or movie is going to get things 100% correct, and Manhunt is no exception. As I stated in my post before the series debuted, my purpose in pointing out historical errors is meant to be educational. The benefit of a series like this is that it can generate a lot of questions about what is real and what is dramatized. From what I’ve seen in this first episode, this series will certainly generate a lot of these questions. I’ll be honest and state that there are many errors of fact in this first episode. Some errors are really small, nitpicky things, such as Booth’s diary erroneously having the word DIARY stamped on the front. I will try my best to avoid bringing up too many of these types of mistakes, though some are harmless enough to point out. However, there are also errors or instances of dramatic license that are more significant and can contribute to misinformation about the event if not addressed. Talking about these instances is not meant to detract from the piece as a form of entertainment but to merely make sure there is a record of historical fact to help avoid confusion.

1. Edman Spangler

There was a considerable amount of dramatic license taken in regards to Edman “Ned” Spangler, and his involvement with John Wilkes Booth. Spangler is shown at the start of this episode already behind Ford’s Theatre, waiting for Booth’s arrival before the assassination. Booth’s words to Spangler imply that Spangler is well-versed in what is about to go down. After the shot occurs, Spangler opens the back door of Ford’s for the escaping Booth. He then slams it shut and attempts to block Major Joseph Stewart from getting through and chasing Booth further. When Stanton identifies himself to Spangler the next day, the stage carpenter immediately attempts to bolt, before being apprehended by sidekick Eckert and thrown into a caged wagon.

Practically everything shown in this episode relating to Edman Spangler is fictitious. While Spangler did briefly hold Booth’s horse before passing the job over to Peanut John, there is no evidence that he was aware of the plot against Lincoln. Spangler was friendly with Booth, as many of the stagehands at the theater were (including Peanut John, a white boy who shared a drink with Booth on occasion in the Star Saloon). Spangler was on stage preparing for a scene change when the assassination happened. After the event, he was dumbstruck at what occurred and could not fathom the idea that Booth had committed such a deed. He was “arrested,” interviewed, and released by authorities a few times before he was officially declared a possible conspirator. The main reason Spangler was charged as a conspirator was because the authorities felt that Both had to have had an accomplice inside the theater. However, as the trial went on, it became apparent there really wasn’t much evidence to support this claim. Compared to the sentences of death and life imprisonment that the other conspirators received, Spangler got essentially a slap on the wrist for having been friends with Booth and was sentenced to 6 years. Most historians, myself included, consider Spangler a largely innocent victim of Booth’s machinations. The way he is depicted in this episode erroneously implies that Ned Spangler was far more despicable and culpable than he really was.

2. The Attack on William Seward

Let’s look at how this episode deals with the attack on Secretary of State William Seward by conspirator Lewis Powell. This whole scene is an example of dramatic license winning out over historical accuracy. For reasons unknown, Powell and Davy Herold arrive at the Seward home sharing a single horse. In reality, each man rode their own, with Powell’s ride being a one-eyed horse that Booth had purchased from Dr. Mudd’s next-door neighbor in 1864. This horse connection would prove damaging to Dr. Mudd at the trial. But that detail aside, the scene plays out with a somewhat dim-witted Powell asking why he is attacking the Secretary of State and what state he is in charge of. Now, Powell may not have been the smartest fellow to ever live, but I’m unsure why the writers dumbed this son of a Baptist minister down so much. Powell approaches the front door to the Seward house and the door is answered by William Bell, one of Seward’s servants. After giving Bell a “genuine pharmacy box,” Powell proceeds to pistol whip Bell out of the doorway. This draws the attention of Frederick Seward, who is also pistol-whipped. When Bell screams for help, Powell aims the gun at the servant and pulls the trigger, but the gun fails to fire. So Powell then attempts to throw the nonfunctional gun at Bell before stabbing him with the large knife Herold gave him. For the rest of the scene of the attack, we remain outside with Davy’s character as he watches silhouettes tussle on the second floor. At one point, two grappling figures break through a window. It’s never clear who Powell is fighting with and what happens to them. Then we see through the broken window Fanny Seward struggling with Powell as she screams for help, crying, “Murder!” This is all too much to bear for Davy, who climbs atop the solo horse and rides away. A few moments later, a blood-covered Powell walks out of the Seward home, realizes Davy has abandoned him, and walks off-screen.

It was an interesting choice to only show this scene from Davy’s perspective. Violence is shown in Powell’s treatment of Bell, Frederick Seward, and Fanny, but the wounds inflicted on the Secretary of State are not shown until Stanton arrives later to take in the scene. The oft-repeated but erroneous claim that Seward’s neck brace saved his life is mentioned by Fanny Seward. In truth, William Seward did not have any sort of neck brace as a result of his carriage accident. While I enjoyed the flashback scene to April 9th in which Stanton and a collared Seward discussed whether this was truly the end of the Confederacy, the large “cone of shame” Seward is shown wearing is just not accurate.

In much the same way, many of the details of Powell’s attack in this episode are incorrect. William Bell did answer the door and allowed Powell entry, but he was never attacked by Powell. It wasn’t until Powell and Bell made it up the stairs and were stopped by Frederick Seward that the scene turned violent. Rebuffed by Frederick for trying to see the Secretary at a late hour, Powell turned as if to leave before brandishing his pistol and aiming at Frederick. It was only after the gun failed to fire that he brought the barrel of the weapon down on Frederick’s head, breaking the weapon and Frederick’s skull. From there, Powell stormed into Seward’s bedroom and frantically stabbed at the Secretary. While he managed two deep stabs into Seward’s face, the quick thinking of army nurse George Robinson prevented Powell from fatally wounding his target. Robinson pulled the assailant off of the Secretary and grappled with him. Augustus Seward, roused by the chaos, arrived in his father’s bedroom and separated the fighting pair. He, like Robinson, received a slashing wound from Powell’s knife as the would-be-assassin ran back down the stairs. On the way down, Powell overcame State Department messenger Emerick Hansell, who he stabbed deeply in the back. Making his way out of the house, Powell mounted his waiting one-eyed horse and rode away while the unharmed William Bell screamed for help from the guards in and around Lafayette Square.

I give credit to the episode for preserving the violence of Powell’s attack. When the assassin emerges, he is covered in blood. When Stanton arrives, he touches blood on the staircase railing in horror. This all fits Dr. Verdi’s assertion that, upon his arrival after the attack, he found the household “weltering in their own gore.” While the tone of the attack is preserved in this episode, a lot of dramatic license has been taken when it comes to the specifics.

3. John Wilkes Booth’s fame

I think the episode does a great disservice to our understanding of Lincoln’s assassination by negating Booth’s fame and popularity at the time of his crime. The day before the series was released, I saw a clip of this interview that Hamish Linklater, the actor who portrays Lincoln in this series, did for the Associated Press. In the interview, he equated the assassination of Lincoln to what it would be like today if “Leonardo Dicaprio’s brother” killed the President. This, I feel, is a gross misinterpretation of the dynamic that existed between the Booth brothers, and this misconception is heavily portrayed in this premiere episode. It is true that Junius Brutus Booth, the father, and Edwin Booth, the brother, were both very successful theater actors in their day. The elder Booth had died in 1852, making it strange that his photograph is shown adorning the walls of Ford’s Theatre, a playhouse that didn’t exist until a decade later. Edwin Booth was alive at the time of the assassination but never performed at Ford’s Theatre, making it odd that he was also shown on the theater wall.

It is true that Edwin was a point of great success in his career at the time of the assassination. Edwin had just completed 100 nights of Hamlet in New York. The elder brother would go on to be one of the greatest actors of his generation and is appropriately revered in theatrical circles to this day. But, it’s important to remember that John Wilkes Booth was also a star like his brother. This episode continually degrades Wilkes’ fame. He is called a “stuntman” who performs “supporting roles.” During the scene at the Star Saloon, he is encouraged to play the heroes in order to become great like his brother and father. All of this negates that John Wilkes Booth was a truly talented and famous actor who did play the starring roles. John Wilkes had already surpassed his eldest brother Junius, Jr. in terms of acting ability and was well on his way towards achieving the same greatness that Edwin was later known for. Edwin saw the potential in his younger brother, too, supporting his efforts and even writing, “I am delighted with him & feel the name of Booth to be more of a hydra than snakes and things ever was.” While it makes sense to degrade Booth because of his actions, when we discount his abilities or talents, we take away from the shocking nature of his crime. The assassination wasn’t like if “Leonardo Dicaprio’s brother” shot the President. It was as if Leonardo Dicaprio himself killed the President. Booth was near the very top of this game when he chose to abandon the stage and focus on his plot against Lincoln. He wasn’t an anonymous D-list celebrity desperate for attention. He was a man who had everything in the world yet still gave it all up. By simplifying Booth’s actions as intense sibling rivalry gone wrong, we too easily ignore the real lessons that can be learned from analyzing his radicalization from celebrated actor to condemned assassin.

4. John F. Parker

One of the scenes where Booth is compared to his family members occurs in the Star Saloon in the minutes leading up to the shooting. Booth finds himself chatting with a fellow who states that he is the President’s guard for the evening. Booth is elated to find the man responsible for Lincoln’s safety is away from his post and orders a drink for him. This man’s name is John Parker, and after failing to prevent Lincoln’s assassination, he finds himself in a heap of trouble. Both Stanton and Mary Lincoln admonish Parker in this episode for failing to perform his duty.

John F. Parker has gone down in the minds of the general public as the scapegoat for Lincoln’s death, but I believe this is due to our inability to truly fathom a time when Presidents were not constantly guarded and protected. Despite what is shown in this episode, Stanton did not order Parker, or any other guard, to watch over the President at Ford’s Theatre. Lincoln disliked any attempt at protection, even visiting the fallen capital of the Confederacy with little more than a small entourage. There was nothing like our modern understanding of the Secret Service back then. John F. Parker was a D.C. policeman turned White House guard. His job was not to protect the President but the White House itself and its furnishings. He had been hired for the position by Mary Lincoln, who was tired of visitors barging into the White House at late hours or folks attempting to make off with souvenirs from the President’s house. In addition to his role as a White House guard, Parker also acted as a hired night security guard of sorts for different places around Washington. Ford’s Theatre hired off-duty policemen for this role just in case a theater patron was drunk and disorderly during a show. Men like Parker would be there to escort out the riff-raff and keep order. It was usually a fairly cushy gig that allowed one to take in free shows. From the records, it’s unclear in what capacity Parker was acting on April 14. He may have been there as nothing more than an escort for the President and First Lady as they traveled from the White House to Ford’s Theatre. Or he may have been moonlighting as a security guard for the theater. Regardless of his role, Parker had no responsibility to the Lincolns while the show was going on. He was not a bodyguard and did not need to stay close to the President or his party. We know that Parker did get a drink during the performance and even sat and watched the show for awhile. The idea that he shared a conversation with Booth at the Star Saloon is not backed up by any known evidence, and you won’t find the scene anywhere in Swanson’s book.

A lot of the undue hate towards Parker should be rendered moot when you remember that there was a man seated in front of the entry door into the Presidential box. This man was Charles Forbes, the footman who transported the Presidential party to the theater. Forbes and his interaction with Booth were not shown in this episode. My guess is that this is due to the theater set that was used. According to an interview with the lead writer and showrunner, the production had difficulties in finding a “period-correct” stand-in to use as Ford’s Theatre. While most of the miniseries was filmed in Savannah, the interior Ford’s Theatre scenes were shot at the Miller Theater in Philadelphia. The set dressers did a good job of making the stage appear as it did for Our American Cousin, but the rest of the 1918 theater just doesn’t look much like Ford’s. There are no theater boxes, just little mini balconies, and the seats are far too modern-looking. It’s unfortunate that with the money that went into this production, more couldn’t have been allocated to get Ford’s right. I’m okay with other places like Dr. Mudd’s house looking nothing like the real deal, but I think it was a misstep to not recreate the correct setup for the scene of the assassination.

Since the 1918 theater did not have the correct box setup, the series couldn’t show us how Booth was stopped by Charles Forbes. We didn’t see how Booth produced a calling card and presented it to Forbes. We never observe Forbes looking at the card and allowing the very popular actor, John Wilkes Booth, to gain entry to the President’s box in order to pay his respects to the President. Going back to my earlier point, it was Booth’s fame that gave him access to the President. If he was any Tom, Dick, or Harry off the street, I highly doubt Forbes would have let him pass. But for John Wilkes Booth, the accomplished and well-known actor, by all means. Celebrity has its perks.

The reason I relate all this is because, even if John Parker had, for some reason, been seated in front of the President’s box like Charles Forbes was, there is no reason why Parker would have prevented Booth from entering. There was no reason to suspect Booth of anything nefarious. While John F. Parker was far from a perfect person (he was suspended for drunkenness on duty), he is not to blame for Lincoln’s death.

Edit: While watching the scenes of Booth drinking with Parker at the saloon, I couldn’t help but recall a comedy sketch series called The Crossroads of History that the History Channel aired a few years ago. One episode depicted the same fictional scene for laughs with Brian Baumgartner (most famously known as Kevin from The Office) as John F. Parker. There’s a reason the show never had a second season, but there are a couple good laughs in it. Check it out.

5. The Most Famous Man

During the drinking scene with John Parker, Anthony Boyle’s Booth pushes back at Parker’s statements about his place in the Booth pecking order by saying, “You know tomorrow, I’m gonna be more famous than anyone in my family.” When Parker presses for more, Booth expands a bit and says, “I’m gonna be the most famous man in the whole world.” This is a good quote and was even included in the trailer for the series. You probably have heard the more common iteration of it: “When I leave the stage, I’ll be the most famous man in America.”

It’s an ominous remark that foreshadows the great drama Booth is about to inflict on the country. But you won’t find this quote in James Swanson’s book. Nor is it in Michael Kauffman’s book, American Brutus, or Ed Steers’ Blood on the Moon. The reason you won’t really find this quote in modern books on the subject of Lincoln’s assassination is because it just isn’t reliable. It’s an example of a quote that comes long after the event and is just too good to be true. 

The source for this story is not John Parker, but William Withers, the Ford’s Theatre orchestra leader who got slashed by Booth’s knife as the assassin was rushing backstage after committing the deed. While Withers was an eyewitness to the assassination, his stories regarding the event evolved considerably with each retelling over the years. The way in which Booth slashed at him increased in ferocity, and the wounds that he received grew in size and severity as each decade passed. And it wasn’t until forty years after the assassination that he even mentioned having shared a drink with Booth on that fateful night. The first time this detail appeared was in an interview Withers did in 1905 when he was about 70 years old. The orchestra leader recalled to a newspaper reporter that he shared a drink with Booth just before the overture of the show. However, he made no mention of Booth’s ominous remark about “leaving the stage.” He merely noted that Booth was even more “fidgety and excitable” than usual. By 1911, Withers had altered his story and stated that during their drink at the Star Saloon, someone else at the bar stated that Booth would never be as great an actor as his father. It is in this telling that the “famous” quote appears in print for the first time. 

Before his death in 1916, Withers donated the jacket he was wearing when Booth slashed him to the U.S. government. It can currently be seen in the basement museum of Ford’s Theatre. As part of his donation, Withers composed an affidavit recalling his experiences. In this statement, Withers stated that he saw Booth at the saloon, and the actor invited the orchestra leader to share a drink with him. In his version of the tale, it is Withers who “laughingly remarked” that Booth would never be as good an actor as his father. To this, Booth supposedly replied, “When I leave the stage, I will be the most talked of man in America.”

Even after Withers died, the story continued to circulate through his sister, Louisa Withers Beck. She was interviewed on occasion and even appeared on a radio program in February 1939, telling her brother’s story to a national audience. Her versions of Booth’s famous quote differed at times as well. 

Likely due to all of the press Withers and his sister were able to garner, the story found its way into books on the assassination. In 1940, newspaperman-turned-author Stanley Kimmel included the “most famous man in America” quote in his book, The Mad Booths of Maryland. It was also picked up by Eleanor Ruggles in her 1953 biography about Edwin Booth, The Prince of Players, and in Jim Bishop’s book, The Day Lincoln Was Shot, from 1955. Bishop’s book was the Manhunt of its day and was incredibly popular. While compellingly written like Manhunt, The Day Lincoln Was Shot does not quite hold up when it comes to accurate history. The concepts of interrogating sources and judging the reliability of stories that changed over time were not as established in these older books of popular history.

Having Booth saying he’ll be the “most famous man in America” just before shooting the President is a good, dramatic quote and fits the style of the vainglorious actor. I don’t fault the miniseries for choosing to include it for dramatic license purposes. And, at the very least, there is a source to back it up. However, as historians, we have to analyze and evaluate sources in order to judge their reliability and validity. As appropriate as I may think it would be for Booth to have uttered these words just before changing the country forever, the source for this quote comes from too long after the event and changes too much to be reliable. That is why modern researchers like Swanson, Kauffman, Steers, and Thomas Bogar (who wrote THE book about the backstage folks at Ford’s Theatre, including Withers) all consider this “famous” quote to be famously apocryphal.  

6. The Navy Yard Bridge Crossing 

As Anthony Boyle’s Booth attempts to make his escape in this first episode, he comes across the Navy Yard Bridge, where he is stopped by Sgt. Silas Cobb, the officer on duty. Booth demands passage over the closed bridge, but Cobb denies him multiple times, even as Booth claims he desires to see his fiancee on the other side. Cobb then comes close to Booth and asks his name. Booth, apparently fearful to give his name and risk capture, demurs. But Cobb recognizes the actor and releases the tension by singing his praises on the stage. He is ignorant of the crime Booth has committed in the city. After yet another remark about his small stature, Cobb allows the actor to pass, praising his Hamlet as he rides on.

While this is a colorful exchange, the event shown strays pretty far from the known facts. Due to the statement and testimony of Silas Cobb, we actually know quite a bit of the conversation that passed between the men before Cobb relented and allowed the fugitive to pass over the bridge. We know that Booth was halted by Cobb and other guards who informed him the bridge was closed after 9:00 pm to all those without a military pass. However, neither Cobb nor Booth were as aggressive in their dealings with one another as is portrayed in the show. When Cobb asked the man to identify himself, he gave his name as Booth willingly and stated he did not know the rule about the bridge closing after 9:00. He stated he was coming from the city and was heading back home to Charles County, Maryland. When Cobb inquired where his home was in Charles County, Booth replied that he lived near Beantown, a community not far from Dr. Mudd’s farm. Booth also gave his excuse that he waited to depart until after the moon rose so that he would have its light to ride by. Cobb was satisfied with Booth’s answers and told him he would permit the passage but warned the man that he would not be allowed to return to the city until daybreak. Booth, having absolutely no intention of returning to Washington, had no problem with this directive and crossed the bridge.

I debated including this scene in my review because, on the face of it, it doesn’t really detract from the history to create this more humorous exchange between Booth and Silas Cobb. However, the bigger issue is that the show also fails to include the crossing of Davy Herold a few minutes later and, more importantly, the arrival of stableman John Fletcher a few minutes after that. At the very beginning of the episode, Booth and Herold are shown picking up horses from Pumphrey’s stables. While Booth did rent his bay mare from Pumphrey, David Herold did not. His horse came from Naylor’s Stables, where John Fletcher acted as stableman. This seemingly minor detail is important because Davy did not return his rented horse on time angering Fletcher. George Atzerodt, an acquaintance of Herold’s, came to Naylor’s Stable that evening just before the assassination and invited the stableman for a drink. During their drink together, Fletcher complained to Atzerodt that his friend had not returned his horse yet. Atzerodt tried to smooth things over before he departed towards the Kirkwood House, where he failed to carry out his assigned role. Not long after this, John Fletcher saw Davy Herold riding the overdue horse down the street and halloed for him to return it. Rather than dealing with Fletcher, Davy galloped away and headed towards the Navy Yard bridge. Fletcher returned to his stable, mounted up a horse, and gave chase. When Fletcher arrived at the Navy Yard Bridge, he learned from Cobb that he had just missed Davy, who had been allowed to cross over. Cobb offered to let Fletcher cross in order to chase the suspected horse thief further, but Fletcher did not want to be stuck outside the city until daybreak. As a result, Fletcher turned around and reported his missing horse to the Metropolitan Police. He connected Herold to George Atzerodt and John Wilkes Booth, all of whom had used each other’s horses and tack over the past few months. Fletcher’s report helped the authorities connect Booth with two of his fellow conspirators far more quickly than they might have discovered on their own.

The series has removed John Fletcher entirely. Herold is later shown in Southern Maryland waiting for Booth with no explanation of how he got past Cobb at the bridge. Rather than having Fletcher help connect the dots for the authorities, the series commits its next major faux pa.

7. George Atzerodt Just Gives Up

I’ll admit that I guffawed a bit when George Atzerodt made his not-so-subtle appearance in this episode. While we are left to deduce the identity of Lewis Powell (who, for some reason, is at Mary Surratt’s boardinghouse rather than his hotel on April 14), the creators decided to give Atzerodt a big goofy sign the first time we meet him. Atzerodt has the appearance of a beggar and I’m amazed any hotel employee would allow him to solicit in such a manner in their nice hotel. Not to mention that Atzerodt’s carriage business was down in Port Tobacco, Maryland, and had shut down several years before. But if you want to make Atzerodt a laughable caricature, that’s fine.

The real issue is how this series claims that Atzerodt is arrested almost immediately. Just a few minutes after Stanton arrives at the Petersen House and sees the fatally wounded President, he’s told that Atzerodt is in custody and that he admitted Booth told him to kill Vice President Andrew Johnson. In reality, of course, George Atzerodt spent the night of April 14 drinking, riding the horse-drawn trolley, and then crashing at the Pennsylvania House Hotel. The next morning, he woke early, skipped out on paying his room bill, and caught a stagecoach out of Georgetown heading northwest. By this time, the military had shut down D.C., so he was prevented from crossing out of the city. Eventually, new orders came in on the afternoon of the 15th, opening some traffic back up, and Atzerodt conned his way into a ride out of Washington. He made his way up to Montgomery County, Maryland, and went to his cousin’s farm near Germantown. He was eventually tracked down there (due to the initial hint by John Fletcher) and arrested on April 20th.

It is regrettable that Atzerodt’s whole story had to be dispensed with, seemingly for convenient exposition purposes. But, with only 7 hours to tell a compelling Stanton story, I suppose cuts had to be made somewhere. Sorry, George.

8. Now He Belongs to the ____

I want to start off and say that I largely liked the scenes at the Petersen House. I was especially moved by Stanton’s first appearance in the death chamber. No words are spoken, and the emotional weight of the dying President comes across very well. Stanton’s well-known reaction to Mary Lincoln’s understandable hysteria is shown in a more sympathetic way in this episode. While it may not be the most accurate, I actually prefer how their exchange occurs here. However, it is strange that Mary Lincoln was not just removed from the death chamber but apparently sent all the way back to the White House. I’m not sure that is accurate. Later, when Lincoln’s casket is brought out of the Petersen House, Stanton’s comment about the old Rail Splitter and the overhead shot of the coffin going down the stairs are both quite moving.

I do feel that the show missed an opportunity to actually show Stanton doing his job while at the Petersen House. While it appears that Tobias Menzie’s Stanton is destined to be the Forest Gump of the manhunt, showing up everywhere and making all the important finds, in reality, Stanton was only slightly involved in the manhunt. He was first and foremost the Secretary of War during a time when the Civil War was very much still going on. Despite the claim this Stanton makes at Ford’s Theatre when he tells the box office manager that he doesn’t know how to delegate, the real Stanton knew the importance of finding creating a team and delegating tasks to them. He set up many special commissioners and investigators to help track down Booth while he acted as an overall manager of the manhunt. Truthfully, the area in which Edwin Stanton really seemed to take on the most individual action himself was in the hours at the Petersen House while the President lay dying. From the front parlor, Stanton communicated and coordinated with the generals in the field and started the collection of witness statements. It has often been said that as the President lay dying, Stanton was the effective head of the United States. While I suppose it’s possible we may see some of this as a flashback in a later episode, I was disappointed that Stanton’s true heroic time to shine was not portrayed.

However, my main criticism of the Petersen House scenes is the moment of Lincoln’s death. When it comes to Edwin Stanton, he really has one big line that everybody knows, even if they don’t know who its from. It’s the phrase that is carved in gold letters in the burial chamber of the Lincoln Tomb in Springfield. Say it with me now: “Now he belong so the ages.”

It’s such an iconic phrase that I don’t even mind that it is far more likely that Stanton didn’t say anything at all. In truth, the phrase doesn’t appear in print until 1890, making it as suspect as Booth’s “most famous man in America” line. But the “Ages” quote seemingly transcends questions of reliability, and I’m pretty fine with that.

But what I’m not fine with is, “Now he belongs to the angels.” My friend and fellow researcher Scott Schroeder has done a great amount of research into Stanton’s famous deathbed quote. He acknowledges that the provenance of “Ages” is a little suspect but that at least three people who eventually included this quote in their writings were present at the Petersen House while Lincoln was dying. How many primary sources quote Stanton as saying “Angels”, you ask? None. Zip. Nada. Zero. All of the sources that attempt to argue that Stanton said “Angels” are from secondary sources, the first of which doesn’t appear until 1922. The argument is usually along the lines that, as a religious man, Stanton surely would have said angels instead of ages.

I can’t fault the series for putting “angels” into Stanton’s mouth because James Swanson is one of the few authors who inexplicably supports “Angels” over “Ages.” So, in my opinion, this is a flaw in the source material.

The most likely scenario is that Stanton, overcome by grief, had nothing poignant to say at the moment of Lincoln’s passing. This is how Michael Kauffman recounts the scene in his more scholarly book, American Brutus. But, if we give some of the later accounts a greater degree of leeway than we probably should, then the iconic line of “Now He Belongs to the Ages” is what Stanton should have said.

9. Visiting “The Crime Scene”

In this episode, Edwin Stanton makes many important discoveries when he visits Ford’s Theatre himself for a little investigating. From “Jessie,” the box office manager who had told Booth about Lincoln’s planned attendance, Stanton acquires a large imperial photograph of Booth, apparently from a run of shows he did at Ford’s a few weeks prior. There’s a great shot of Booth’s derringer on the floor of the President’s box, which Stanton finds and picks up. Eckert arrives and suggests they talk to more of the staff. The duo then chats with Joseph “Peanut John” Burroughs, who hesitatingly recounts his involvement in holding Booth’s horse. Peanuts is full of helpful information, such as the appearance of Booth’s horse, the way in which the assassin rode, and that he was on a rented city horse that would need food soon. Peanuts also rats on Spangler leading to the stagehand’s arrest.

Most of what is depicted in these scenes is fictional. As far as I know, Ford’s Theatre did not have a photographic wall of fame, as it were. I find it hard to believe that a theater would pay to photograph each of its performers, particularly a “supporting” actor, as they claim JWB to be in this series. The “Jessie” who talks with Stanton is not a real person but is probably meant to personify Harry Clay Ford, one of the three Ford brothers and the daily manager of the theater. Harry is the one who talked to Booth when the assassin got his mail on April 14.

The person who found Booth’s derringer on the floor of the box was not Stanton but a man by the name of William Kent. This theater patron had made his way into the box after the shot and offered his penknife to Dr. Leale who used it to slice Lincoln’s shirt. After the unconscious President was removed to the Petersen House, Kent realized he had lost his house key during the chaos. He returned to Ford’s and searched the box for his key. Instead, he found the murder weapon. Lawrence Gobright, a member of the Associated Press, was in the theater at the time as well, and he took possession of the weapon from Kent. Gobright later gave the gun to the War Department. Despite Stanton’s claim in this episode that “This is a crime scene,” such a phrase would have been meaningless back then, and there was no real effort to secure the box. Another theater patron walked off with the wooden bar that Booth had used to wedge the outer door of the theater box shut. He took it home with him and even cut a piece off of it to give as a souvenir to a friend before authorities heard about it and sent men out to reclaim this piece of evidence. This practice of collecting and selling relics of the assassination is actually well demonstrated in the scene where Stanton chastizes a street vendor hawking Lincoln masks, playbills, and a sconce he swiped off a wall.

The Peanut John in this series must have superhuman and X-ray vision. From his spot in the alley behind Ford’s Theatre, which exits onto F Street, Peanuts was apparently able to see Booth riding two blocks to the north “Down H Street” all the way “To Anacostia,” which is about four miles to the southeast. While the real Booth did ride towards Anacostia, there is no reason why he would have gone out of his way to head north first to H Street before turning and heading southeast. Either this was just a mistake from a lack of understanding of the geography of D.C., or the series is setting up for a future flashback in which the escaping Booth stops at Mary Surratt’s D.C. boardinghouse for some reason. We’ll have to wait and see.

Did anyone else openly laugh at the idea that Stanton could single-handedly ban the sale of horse feed in the state of Maryland? Apparently, all horses in Maryland have to starve now because Booth escaped into that state on a city horse. It’s such a ludicrous and silly concept.

10. Sandford Conover

While Stanton is investigating at Ford’s Theatre, we are introduced to a new character that I didn’t expect to see at all, and definitely not in the first episode. Actor Josh Stewart appears with mutton chops and introduces himself to Stanton as Sandford Conover, a reporter with the New York Tribune. Conover somewhat aggressively interrogates Stanton, but the Secretary of War allows it by putting Conover to work in getting a photographer to come and photograph the “crime scenes.” The words between Conover and Stanton were clearly written to echo our modern-day events, with Stanton’s line, “This is America. We replace our presidents with elections, not with coups,” being a pointed reference to the January 6th insurrection.

I had seen Josh Stewart’s face in the trailers, but IMDB had only identified him as “Wallace.” At the time, I predicted that this was a mistake and that he might be playing the role of John M. Lloyd, the renter of Mary Surratt’s tavern. Now that I know he is playing Conover, the “Wallace” name makes sense. Here’s some background on Mr. Conover from my Lincoln Conspiracy Trial project:

Sandford Conover was a key witness for the government’s case regarding the involvement of Confederate officials in Lincoln’s assassination. At the trial of the conspirators, he testified at length about meeting with important members of the Confederate Secret Service in Montreal, Canada. According to Conover, he was born in New York but was in South Carolina when the Civil War broke out. He was drafted into the Confederate army, where he worked as a clerk in Richmond. Conover stated that in December of 1863, he deserted from the Confederacy. In October of 1864, he made his way to Canada, where he used the alias James Watson Wallace. During his time in Canada, Conover gained the trust of notable Confederate agents like Jacob Thompson, George N. Sanders, Beverly Tucker, William C. Cleary, and others. Conover stated he saw Booth in Montreal in October of 1864 and that John Surratt was there four or five days before the assassination of Lincoln. According to Conover, the assassination of Lincoln was discussed openly with him by Jacob Thompson in early February of 1865, and Thompson even encouraged Conover to join Booth in the plot. Conover described seeing blank commissions for the Confederate army signed by the Confederate Secretary of War. These commissions were to be filled in by agents in Canada with the names of anyone who committed acts of guerilla warfare on the Confederacy’s behalf. Conover stated that a commission had been made out for Booth so that, in the event he was captured in Canada after assassinating the President, he would be considered a Confederate officer and not liable for extradition. As a witness, Conover linked the Confederate agents in Canada to every act of black flag warfare, including Lincoln’s assassination. Unfortunately, all of Conover’s testimony was later discovered to be false.

In June of 1865, Sandford Conover’s previously secret testimony was leaked to the press, and it quickly unraveled. Conover claimed that, during his time in Canada, he was acting as a secret correspondent for the New York Tribune. He testified that he had written to the New York Tribune in February and March of 1865 about the plots against Lincoln. These claims were later denounced as false by the editors of the New York Tribune. The Toronto Globe investigated some of Conover’s claims and found that not all of the men Conover testified about meeting with were present in Montreal during the time periods Conover swore to. Worried about the damage Conover’s perceived perjury would do to their case against Confederate leaders, Judge Advocate General Joseph Holt ordered that all of the suppressed testimony be published, including the prior testimonies of Dr. James Merritt and Richard Montgomery. Both Merritt and Montgomery testified about conversations with Confederate officials about the proposed assassination of Lincoln, thus supporting Conover’s claims. All three men would later be recalled to the witness stand in the closing days of the trial in order to counter claims of perjury in the press and help salvage the government’s case against the Confederacy. But the press continued to investigate and poke holes in the claims made by these men. On the day of the four conspirators’ execution, the Toronto Globe published a letter from Sandford Conover to Confederate Secret Service agent Jacob Thompson dated March 20, 1865, in which Conover introduced himself to Thompson. This showed that, contrary to Conover’s claim to have been intimate with Thompson since the fall of 1864, Thompson had never heard of Conover prior to that date. In the end, the perjury of Conover and the others was conclusively determined in 1866 when James Merritt testified before a congressional committee. Merritt admitted that both he and Richard Montgomery had committed perjury in their testimony against Confederate leaders. According to Merritt, Conover had secured both men to lie, and they had been paid for their services. Later, in November 1866, Sandford Conover, whose real name was Charles A. Dunham, was indicted for perjury. He was found guilty and sentenced to ten years in prison.

After reading this, you’ll understand my surprise at Conover making an appearance in this first episode. If he was going to show up at all, I figured it would be later when the trial of the conspirators was shown. Conover was a grifter and a liar who only wanted to milk the government for whatever funds by telling them exactly what they wanted to hear.  At the time of the assassination, Conover/Wallace/Dunham was in Canada, not in Washington. He showed up sometime in the weeks after the murder with his valuable information to sell. Desperate for a smoking gun connecting Booth’s plot with Confederate leaders, Conover duped the Judge Advocate General into giving him funds to continue his own “investigations” in Canada. From what I can see on IMDB, it looks like Conover is going to continue to play a role in this series, at least in the first four episodes. So I guess we’ll see how this storyline plays out differently from the real Conover.

11. Ummm… We missed a stop

Oddly, the series fails to show a key moment in Booth’s escape: his first stop. After crossing the Navy Yard Bridge and meeting up with David Herold, the real John Wilkes Booth stopped first at Mary Surratt’s Tavern in Prince George’s County. While there, the pair wakes up the tavern keeper, John M. Lloyd, and orders him to “make haste and get those things.” They are referencing a pair of Spencer repeating carbines that had been hidden at the tavern during the abduction plot as well as a pair of field glasses that Mary Surratt had dropped off at the tavern earlier that day. Lloyd brings these items out while Booth, suffering from a broken leg, stays on horseback. The pair are only at the tavern for a few minutes and ride off after telling Lloyd the news of Lincoln’s assassination.

None of this is shown in the series. After seeing Booth and Herold meet up in Maryland, the next time we see the fugitives is as they are riding up to Dr. Mudd’s house. I know that this is the Stanton show, so some aspects of Booth’s escape are going to need to be shortened. But I figured they would sort of gloss over Booth’s time hiding in the woods to keep the narrative moving, not cut out the assassin’s first stop and the character of John M. Lloyd altogether. It’s going to be hard to really get into Mary Surratt’s character and suspected culpability without showing this first stop and her contribution to it. But, as I’ve said before, the series loves flashbacks. So perhaps, in a later episode, we’ll see Booth and Herold at the tavern. In the meantime, though, I am very disappointed that a key part of Booth’s escape has seemingly been cut out.

12. Dr. Mudd’s

In this first episode, we see Booth and Herold riding up to the Mudd farm during daylight with the doctor seemingly expecting them. Mudd helps Booth off his horse as the assassin winces in pain. Inside the house, Dr. Mudd is shown cutting Booth’s boot and pulling it off, revealing a badly broken leg. David Herold then enters the room with the morning’s paper saying that Booth is front page news. Before Booth can read it, Dr. Mudd grabs the paper from Herold’s hands and sees the headline announcing Lincoln’s assassination. He seems shocked by what is written before Booth grabs the paper from him eager to “read his reviews.” Mudd leaves the room, having been ordered by Booth to fetch more whiskey. Booth reads the paper ignoring the mournful cries for Lincoln until he reads something about him being a symbol for the cause, which brings him joy. As Booth and Herold are celebrating, Mary Simms, one of Dr. Mudd’s servants, enters the room with coffee for the men. Booth only gives his name as “Sir” and makes a disparaging and sexist remark to Mary. Dr. Mudd reenters the room with whiskey and orders Mary to “have her brother make a splint.” When she reminds Mudd that her brother had just finished working on a latrine, the doctor scolds her and says he’ll work as long as he says. The doctor also says that he “taught him a lesson last year” and threatens to do the same to Mary. When Mary exits, Mudd prepares to set Booth’s leg. He suggests Booth hold Herold’s hand for the pain, but Booth declines. After a count of three, Mudd presses down hard on Booth’s leg, which is accompanied by loud cracking noises and Booth screaming in pain.

The scene at Mudd’s in this episode lasts less than three minutes. Yet almost everything shown in this scene is historically wrong. Here’s a breakdown:

• Booth and Herold arrived at the Mudd farm in the dark at around 4:00 am. No one was expecting them, and it took quite a while for Dr. Mudd to stir.
• The series has given Booth a broken right leg. The real Booth broke his left leg.
• This Dr. Mudd states that Booth’s tibia bone is broken. The real Booth broke his fibula.
• The break is shown to be near his knee. The real break was down near Booth’s ankle.
• There was no newspaper delivery to the Mudd farm, and even if there was, there was no way that a local Bryantowon paper would have the news of Lincoln’s assassination that quickly.
• The paper even reports that Lincoln was dead, but at the time Booth and Herold got there and Booth was receiving treatment, Lincoln was still alive.
• As I’ve noted before and will again in the future, Mary Simms did not live at the Mudd house in 1865. After the new Maryland state constitution prohibiting slavery took effect in 1864, Mary Simms was freed and left the Mudd farm for good.
• There were two formerly enslaved girls who stayed with the Mudd family after emancipation, worked for them as paid servants, and cooked and served John Wilkes Booth his breakfast on the morning of April 15. They were Lettie Hall and Lousia Cristie. It’s a shame the series excluded them.
• The real Mary Simms had two brothers who had been enslaved by Dr. Mudd: Milo Simms and Elzee Eglent. Neither of these men were still at the Mudd house when Booth was there. The older brother, Elzee Eglent, had been shot in the leg by Dr. Mudd in June of 1863, which seems to be what the character of Mudd is referencing in this scene, but his timeline is off. Elzee then escaped to freedom in August of 1863, never to return. Milo Simms was Mary’s little brother and he left the farm when slavery was abolished in 1864. So, like Mary, there was no brother of Mary Simms living at the Mudd house in 1865.
• The real Dr. Mudd made Booth’s splint himself out of an old hatbox.
• Dr. Mudds’ knowledge of the identity of his visitors is disputed. I won’t go too far into this because I personally feel that Dr. Mudd was well acquainted with who he was treating from the moment Booth arrived. However, I will state, for fairness’s sake, that the statements from Dr. Mudd and his wife claim that the wounded man wore fake whiskers and kept his face fairly well concealed during his time at the farm. I’m of the opinion that they said this to protect themselves and give themselves some plausible deniability for when it was discovered that Booth had visited the Mudd farm in the past. I’m actually okay with Mudd clearly recognizing Booth as is shown in this series. But the manner in which this Mudd learns of Lincoln’s assassination from the seemingly clairvoyant local paper is beyond belief. It would have been better for the series to either show Booth openly bragging to Mudd about the shooting or for it to wait and have Dr. Mudd learn the news of Lincoln’s death, as he himself claimed, during this trip into Bryantown with Davy Herold later that afternoon.

It’s pretty clear that this series is going to take a lot of liberties when it comes to the story of Dr. Mudd.

13. Searching Booth’s Hotel Room

Once again, Edwin Stanton is the prime mover, searching Booth’s room at the National Hotel himself with only his sidekick, Thomas Eckert, for company. Among the ashes of burned papers, Stanton finds a slightly singed coded table which he brings to Eckert’s attention. Eckert doesn’t recognize the pattern but suggests that the code could come from Richmond, Montreal, or just be Booth, “playing spy games.” Spoiler: It’s the latter option, but that doesn’t make for good TV. They continue searching the room, and Eckert finds a bank book from Montreal. Eckert notes that Montreal is a known hotspot for the Confederate Secret Service. With this circumstantial evidence in their hands, the episode closes with Stanton pondering the repercussions of Confederate involvement in Lincoln’s death.

Overall, I like this scene and the relationship shown between Stanton and Eckert. It’s also a great way to end the first episode and definitely makes me want to see more. Did Stanton or Eckert take part in the searching of Booth’s hotel room? No. Other, real detectives did that. Was a code table and a Montreal bank book found among Booth’s papers? Yes. They were among several items and papers seized from the National Hotel. Would Eckert have been uncertain about the coded table that was found? No. Vigenère tables were very common in Eckert’s line of work and the head of the military telegraph and accomplished codemaker would have recognized it immediately.

John Wilkes Booth did deposit $455 into a Montreal branch of the Ontario Bank on October 27, 1864. At the same time, he purchased a bill of exchange for a little over 61£. Copies of this bill of exchange were found on Booth’s person upon his death at the Garrett farm. The purpose of the money in Booth’s Canadian bank account is unknown. He never withdrew or used the money. I’m not surprised this series has decided to use this enigmatic deposit to tease possible Confederate involvement. Many authors and researchers have attempted to connect the same dots, though, in my opinion, none have done so convincingly. We’ll have to wait and see how this series presents its case.

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Well, that was long. If you’ve made it to this point, then I commend you for sticking with me. As you can see, there are many historical inaccuracies in the series. I’ll admit that my initial reaction after finishing the first episode was one of disappointment. I had hyped myself up so much and had such high expectations for the series that seeing silly errors like Booth breaking the wrong leg angered me. But, at the same time, I know that historians are the hardest audiences to please. We want everything to be correct, but that is, at its core, an impossible task for any piece of entertainment. This series was not intended to tell the absolutely true story of Lincoln’s assassination. It’s intended, like all drama, to tell a compelling story.

When I turn off my historian brain and allow myself to watch the series as a period drama with familiar characters, I find that I enjoy it. To quote from one of my favorite TV shows of all time, “Just repeat to yourself, ‘It’s just a show. I should really just relax.'”

Do I wish that more attention had been paid to the source material that this series is supposed to be based on? Of course. But I’m not going to angrily trash the series as a whole for going “off-script” with its portrayal of history. I will continue to watch the show and produce reviews like this that point out errors and instances of dramatic license. These historical reviews are not meant as a dig against the creatives behind the show, but as a way to show that even flawed representations of history can be used as educational tools for helping folks learn more about this important event.

So, come back and read my historical reviews for the rest of the episodes of Manhunt as they are released. I’m confident that you’ll learn something from them.

Dave Taylor

(Note: I’ll need a few days before I can put up the review for episode 2. This one took me several hours to research, write, and illustrate.)