I imagine that every step of the seven miles - about a 3 hour march - from Brightwood Park to the nation's capital, were tense for Coxey’s men. The now 500 man Army was swollen by the convergence of marches from New York and even Texas, and supporters, to perhaps 4,000. And leading the army, at least in the political cartoons (above) was Democratic Presidential contender William Jennings Bryan.
But in truth, Bryan was with the army in lukewarm spirit only. His grand solution to the national depression was to switch from the gold standard to silver, thus creating enough new wealth to pay for the improvements Coxey's men wanted. But the problem wasn't lack of money, but lack of will.
The 12,000 witnesses who now marched alongside the army intended, I suspect, to use their bodies to protect the unemployed.
Among those thousands was was Mr. L. Frank Baum (above), then a reporter for the Chicago Evening Post. The following year he would begin writing a children’s book “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” about four friends - Dorothy (wearing silver slippers - currency based on the price of silver ), along with The Scarecrow (the American Farmer), the Tin Woodsman (Industrial Workers), and the Cowardly Lion (timid Populist politicians like Bryant ), who follow the Yellow Brick Road (the gold standard) to the Emerald City (Washington D.C,) demanding the Wizard's assistance. The Wizard being, of course, the American government "...of the people, for the people...", at least in theory.
The crowds lined the route of the Army down 16th Street to Massachusetts Avenue, then across to Mount Vernon Square and then turning south west on 9th Street to New York Avenue, which they followed directly to the capital building.
"I want him to send me back to Kansas, and the Scarecrow wants him to put a few brains into his head," she replied.
The Tin Woodman appeared to think deeply for a moment. Then he said: "Do you suppose Oz could give me a heart?"
"Why, I guess so," Dorothy answered. "It would be as easy as to give the Scarecrow brains."
"True," the Tin Woodman returned. "So, if you will allow me to join your party, I will also go to the Emerald City and ask Oz to help me."
1900 L. Frank Baum "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz"
By this time the crowd of witnesses was so large, it was being led by 25 mounted Metropolitan Policemen, intent upon keeping the Army moving. They, of course, had no intention of stopping, but the government wanted to feel they were making the decisions.
Ray Standard Baker, covering the march for the Chicago Record, noted that “Coxey’s carriage (stopped) near the “B” street entrance to the (capital) grounds…Rising from his seat, he stooped over and kissed his wife, as if realizing something of the terrible ordeal to follow”.
Jacob Coxey then “leaped nimbly to the ground, and in a moment he and Browne were swallowed up in a wild surging mob of men which lifted them from their feet and bore them bodily...to the Capital(steps)...More than four hundred mounted policemen…rode into the crowd with the intention of capturing the two…but they might as well have attempted to arrest a cyclone. The mob forced one of them against a stone wall…and threw his horse violently to the ground.”
“The mounted policemen lost their heads…and began striking everyone within reach. Women and children were ruthlessly ridden down…All this time Coxey had been struggling through the crowd toward the central steps of the capital….Before anyone knew it Coxey was bounding up the East front…He was up to the tenth step before he was recognized. Then the officers closed in on him.”
Jacob Coxey was not arrested on The Capital's steps, no matter what the history books say. That would have set off a riot. Jacob Coxey was instead ushered back to his carriage .
By then Carl Browne (above, left) and Christopher Columbus Jones were under arrest, the Army was thus left under the command of Jesse Coxey (above, right), He marched the men, “like a funeral procession” toward their new camp, at the site of an old city dump on M street, They dubbed the new site, “Camp Tyranny”.
On Wednesday, May second, Jacob Coxey was in court to show support and pay the fines for his two friends. That was when he was arrested. The charges laid against all three men were "carrying banners illegally" and "walking on the grass" and "injuring the shrubbery". They were immediately thrown in jail.
One week later, on Tuesday, 9 May, 1892 all three men were tried in District Court, where it was revealed that the illegal banners they were charged with displaying were the three by two inch cloth lapel pins worn by every member of the Army. Coxey always maintained that he never stepped on the grass. It did not matter. All three men were found guilty, fined five dollars each and sentenced to an additional 20 days in jail.
Coxey’s Army stayed in Camp Tyranny for two weeks, playing baseball, drilling and attending rallies, until the D.C. Board of Health ordered them to move. They then returned to their camp at Hyattsville, Maryland for another week.
A hotel in Bladensburg, Maryland provided free rooms for the newly released Coxey and Browne, and the Army cramped in the back yard. Heavy rains in June drove the marchers to higher ground and this time they moved to Roslyn, Virginia.
Finally, on 11 August, the Army's numbers had dwindled to 80 men. At that point the Governor of Maryland dispatched Baltimore Police Officers into Virginia to sweep in and arrest the remnants on charges of vagrancy. That whimper was the end of Coxey's Army of 1894.
The speech Coxey had wanted to deliver from the steps of the capital, was a desperate plea. He had wanted to say, “We choose this place of assemblage because it is the property of the people.” Clearly the Senators and Congressmen thought of it as private property. Theirs. Coxey had also wanted to say. “We come to remind the Congress...that for a quarter of a century the rich have been growing richer, the poor, poorer, and that by the close of the present century the middle class will have disappeared as the struggle for existence becomes fierce and relentless.” That was what all he had wanted to say; just a statement of reality.
Two years later, the Denver News would still note, “There are millions of heads of families partially or wholly out of employment…In the agricultural districts wages have fallen one-half. In manufacturing…the aggregate of all wages paid is at the starvation point.”
The depression would continue for another two long years, and during that lost decade, those with little imagination fiercely contended that there was nothing that could be done to mitigate the disaster; so nothing was tried. To the surprise of the wealthy and ruling class, that did not help anybody. The railroads did not want money spent to improve roads, so no money was spent.
Then, in 1898 the nation raised an army and invaded Cuba and the Philippines. And at that, the six year long depression began to come to an end. Still, conservative economists argued that such a short war could not have revived the economy. Nor would, they insisted, increasing taxes and government investment in infrastructure. And that may be so. But if it is so, then the war spending and the end of the depression was one heck of a coincidence in 1898, and again in 1942.
I think the most accurate if unkind memorial the nation offered for those heroes of the spring of 1892 was provided by a bar fly in New York City, who was name was recorded only as "Feeb". He composed and performed songs for his supper. His mocking composition that spring of 1892 was, “Come, boys, turn around the beer keg. And listen to my song, Great Coxey is among us, to right each grievous wrong. No more shall sorrow grip us, We're on the way to wealth…With a glass in every hand; Sing to Coxey and his army, And free lunch all in the land.”
"…and (Glinda) said to the Scarecrow, "What will you do when Dorothy has left us?"
"I will return to the Emerald City," he replied, "for Oz has made me its ruler and the people like me. The only thing that worries me is how to cross the hill of the Hammer-Heads." "...I shall command the Winged Monkeys to carry you to the gates of the Emerald City," said Glinda, "for it would be a shame to deprive the people of so wonderful a ruler."
"Am I really wonderful?" asked the Scarecrow.
"You are unusual," replied Glinda."
1900 L. Frank Baum "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz"
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