When Charles Julius Guiteau was tried in 1882, his attorney, a family member, entered an insanity plea. The trial was a six-month long circus.
Charles Guiteau’s Trial
Garfield's assassin was definitely and obviously “peculiar.” He sang little songs to himself, behaved oddly and confused, threw tantrums berating his own counsel, and gave every indication of what would be termed in the nineteenth century, “lunacy.” He believed in his own mind that he would be acquitted. His attorney, his sister's husband, presented evidence that Guiteau’s eccentricities were apparent even in early childhood. He was a loner who never seemed to have friends. Some said that his entire family was a little strange.
Despite this, he managed to read law and even pass the Illinois bar, but he never practiced the profession. He also managed to be a self-proclaimed evangelist minister, and for a time, was affiliated with the Oneida cult, a popular religious community of the day. They disassociated themselves quickly when Guiteau’s abnormal behavior became too evident. He married, but was addicted to prostitutes, and his wife divorced him. He was never able to hold a job or earn a living. He borrowed money continually, and never repaid the debts. Nevertheless, he had an aggrandized opinion of himself. Modern historians, and indeed most psychiatrists today agree that Guiteau showed definite symptoms of schizophrenia.
The defense attorney also produced a long list of prominent Washingtonians, including a string of Congressmen and Senators, and even a signed deposition from President Chester Alan Arthur, all alluding to the fact that indeed they were superficially acquainted with Guiteau, and all were of the belief that he wasn’t quite right in the head.
Guiteau’s Disgruntlement Begins
In 1880, the thirty-eight year old Guiteau decided to support General Grant for a third term as president. When that campaign fizzled at the Republican convention, he threw his support to James A. Garfield, the party’s nominee. He wrote a speech in praise of the candidate, and traveled to New York. Day after day, he sat in the waiting room of the campaign headquarters, button-holing all politicians for a chance to speak. People were polite in those days – even New York politicians - and Guiteau was generally turned “down”, rather than turned “away.” The politicians courteously said “good morning” or “nice day” or similar pleasantries, and Guiteau believed that he had made a friend, and had hope. Eventually he was given a place on a podium in Brooklyn. He rambled incoherently for about five minutes, left the stage abruptly and disappeared into the crowd. His speech was never given, nor was it published in a paper or as a handout.
Garfield won the election – but it was a squeaker. Guiteau believed that it was his speech that actually turned the tide, and thus, he was entitled to a rewarding political patronage job. Had he wanted to be a postmaster in some small town, he might have gotten it. After all, who really cares who sorts the mail in “Podunk?” But Guiteau wanted a better position: a consulate in Paris or Vienna.
The Disgruntlement Continues
The day after Garfield’s inauguration, Guiteau went to Washington and checked into a cheap boarding house and prepared to collect the compensation due him. He spent hours sitting in the White House waiting room, hoping for a chance to see the President and writing incoherent letters on borrowed White House stationery. He spent most of his evenings in the popular hotel lobbies where congressmen gathered socially. He pestered everyone he could corner about his “embassy appointment” trying to find allies to plead his cause with the Secretary of State.
Again, the polite politicians turned him down in generalities, such as “The next time I get a chance…” or “If I see so-and-so…” Again, Guiteau believed he had made friends and was advancing his prospects. He still had hope.
Hope Dies, All is Lost
The day finally came when Guiteau confronted Secretary James G. Blaine on the street. He picked a bad day. The Secretary was preoccupied with pressing matters, and gave the odd little man short shrift. Guiteau suddenly realized that all was lost; his hopes, his chances, his consulate in Paris or Vienna. Perhaps what was left of his mind snapped. He began to hear voices (a tell-tale sign of psychosis).
He began to believe that President Garfield was the one standing in his way, and that if the President were eliminated, Chet Arthur would be President – and would owe it all to him. Honors would surely follow. From that point on, he plotted and planned, and began to stalk Garfield. He bought a gun, took some target practice, and checked the daily papers for the President’s schedule.
He had his chance some weeks later, and shot the President twice – wounding him in the arm (a minor injury), and in the side, which led to medical ineptness and infection and death ten weeks later. Guiteau, by the way, was immediately apprehended and jailed.
The Disgruntled Verdict
It was little more than fifteen years after the assassination of Lincoln. That deed was still fresh in the American mind. John Wilkes Booth had escaped the hangman’s noose (the usual judicial penalty) by opting for a fiery shoot-out with law officers. There would be no way that Charles Julius Guiteau was going to circumvent due process and due judgment and due hanging for assassinating the president.
It took very little time for twelve men, good and true, to determine that Charles Julius Guiteau was sane enough to know right from wrong. He would hang. And since he was considered “sane,” he would be forever inscribed in the history books as “a disgruntled office seeker.”
Sources:
- Kenneth D. Ackerman. The Dark Horse: The Surprise Election and Political Murder of President James A. Garfield. Carroll & Graf Publishers, 2003
- Leech, Margaret and Brown, Harry J. The Garfield Orbit, Harper & Row, 1978
- Peskin, Allan. Garfield, The Kent State University Press, 1978
- http://www.trutv.com/library/crime/terrorists_spies/assassins/charles_guiteau/3.html
Feather Schwartz Foster - Feather Schwartz Foster, author-historian. Making the First Ladies come to life.
