The Pittsburgh Press from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania on March 4, 1917 · Page 67
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The Pittsburgh Press from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania · Page 67

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Sunday, March 4, 1917
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J Confessions of Von dei I Alias Bridge-man Taylor, 9 Dynamite Hotter Eighth Instalment of a Series of International Revelations Cote feu ) "I stood up, exposing my body to that withering fire, and took out my cigarette case. The nearest men watched sidewise, waiting to see me fall." ' Horst Von der Gait claim $ to be a aecrct agent of the German Empire. He stated in court that his real name is Wachendorf. In the trial of the so-called M'eUand Canal conspiracy in the United States Court, he was proved to have been the emissary of Capt. von Papen, German military attache, who seems to have entrusted him with a mission to blow up the canal locks with dynamite. From Buffalo Yon. der Goltz returned to Xew York, and on Oct. 3 sailed for Genoa under a passport issued on behalf of Bridgeman Henry Taylor. His next appearence. according ta the endorsements on his passports and other documents, urns in Berlin. He entered England from Holland in November, 1$H, and teas imprisoned under suspicion as a German spy. Among the papers taken from Capt. von Papen in January, 1U1S, a check was found for SBOO in favor of Bridge man Henry Taylor, and confronted with this Von der Goltz confessed complicity in the canal plot and was subsequently requisitioned by the United States Government to give evidence at the trial of Hans Tauscher, American representative of the Krupps, and others indicted for plotting against the peace of the United States. Further, confirmatory of Von der GolWs relations with the German Government, are documents set forth in the British Government's official report of April. 1916 a. letter from Capt. von Papen requesting consuls in Baltimore and St. Paul to give Bridgeman Henry Taylor "all the assistance he may ask for! and a letter signed Dr. Kraske, German Vice Consul in Neto York and addressed to Bdron Von der Goltz, mentioning having called on him at the Holland House and inviting him to call next day at the German Consulate to meet a gentleman "who is interested in you." - At the trial of Tauscher, which involved issues of the most serious nature, the defense bitterly attacked the character of Von der Goltz, who appeared as chief witness against the accused. Witnesses they brought from Veto Mexico and El Paso assailed Tils' personal character and integrity, and the proceedings ended in Tauschers acquittal. Jn the series of articles in this Magazine Von der Goltz tells what purport to be his adventures as a German agent. Beyond the relation with Capt von Papen there is in our possession no documentary evidence of other connection with the Kaiser's service. As it is impossible to establish the truth of the incidents he relates beyond checking up his movements, this Magazine expressly disclaims responsibility for their accuracy. Back to Germany's Service. CojwriSht. 1917. by Te FBaPuWishIn Co, (Tbe Ji"W VoA WorErT. OpTLY Gen. Salvador Mercado stood wholly on the debit side of my account dook. i nad ueara tnai . me had been captured on United States soil, along with numerous other fugitive Federal 'officers, and had been put Jter safekeeping Into the detention (camp at El Paso. It chanced that Villa and Raul Madero went up to tbe border for a row days of the winter race-meet at Juares, just across the river from El SPaso. Don Raul was kind enough to invite me too, and X went along: in fine fettle, with a new uniform. Our army was In funds and I had all the money I wanted. From Juarez it was merely a matter -jf crossing the international bridge to be in El Paso. I went over. I wanted o see Koglmeier, the saddler in South Santa Fe Street, and I wanted to visit tbe detention camp. I chose to see the camp first, and datf the forethought to fill one of the pockets of rny overcoat with Mexican ojdl pieces, very welcome to my whilom enemies. Poor fellows, they were most of them In the tattered clothing they had worn when captured. Their raees were wan and meagre and they were glad enough to accept, along with my greeting, the bits of gold I contrived to slip into their hands. Ia the centre of tbe camp we came Upon a tent more imposing than its asates, though by no means palatial. This," said my cicerone, "is the Tuarters of Gen. Mercado, the ranking officer here. Do you wish to pay him your respects?" As I have said, Salvador Mercado is squat and thick in build, with a bull neck. Some day, I fear, he is going dta of apoplexy, if he does not fall, nsere gloriously, in action. He shows certain apoplectic symptoms. For in- Jstanee, as we stepped inside his tent and he saw who one of his visitors nran his neck swelled till it threatened he burst his collar. "My General," 1 asured him w;irn;!y. It is indeed a pleasure and an inmor to see you once again. I nu.-u the climate up here agrees with yoti?" I lid not oTer him a gol.i piece wiien pe said goodby. From the detention camp I went to Koglmeier's shop in South Santa Fe Street. Both front and rear doors were standing open, and through the back of one I could see Koglmeier's horse, a beast I had often ridden, witching iu tail in the yard, which was its stable. I went into the store. "Koglmeier!" I called. "Oh, Koglmeier!" From the side of the shop a man stepped out on whom I had never set eyes before. "Koglmeier ain't here." "But he must be here,- I insisted. "I can see his horse out there In the yard." "Yes," said the man, "the horse Is here, but Koglmeier ain't. Nor he won't be. it just happen that Koglmeier's dead." "When did be die?" "The 23d of last December," said the, man. "But he didn't die. He got murdered." On the night of that 23d of December Koglmeier, the quietest, most inoffensive man In El Paso, had been murdered in his shop. It looked, said my informant, "like his head had been beat in with a hatchet, or something." Robbery apparently bad not been the motive, for his possessions were untouched. If he had made an outcry It had not attracted attention, perba because a carrousel was going full blast in the vacant lot beside his place of business. The authorities were, utterly at sea, and still are. Koglmeier was the only German in El Paso who was a friend of mine, and knew of the existence of those documents which I had been forced to give up through the agency of Mercado's firing squads. His end subdued the festive spirit in me and I was not sorry when we started back for the interior of Mexico. Torreon was taken by Villa on April 2. 1914, and we settled down there for a brief period of rest and recuperation. Rest! Torreon stands out in my memory as the scene of the most hectic activity I have ever Indulged in. Raul Madero and I have often since laughed over the ludicrousness of It. But at the time it was deadly serious. My reputation was at stake. I managed to save 'it barely by the skin of my teeth. Chief Trinidad Rodriguez got twenty machine guns down from the United States and turned them over to me. "Train 'your gun crews and get the platoons ready for field service," he ordered. "You can have three weeks. Thon I thall need them." Without a word I saluted and turned on my lieel. I could not very well tell my General, that I had never in my iife touched even tbe tip of one finger to a machine gun. The guns arrived next day, as promised. They had been sent to us bare, just the barrels and tripods. There were no bolsters, no pack saddles for either guns or ammunition, not one of the accessories which equip a machine gun company for action. I had to start from the ground, in literal truth. And I had not a soul to advise me how to begin. We loaded the guns onto our wagons, took them over to camp and laid them side by side in a long row down the centre of an empty warehouse In Torreon. That satisfied me for one afternoon. I went over to Gen. Rodriguez's quarters. "I've got the guns," I reported. "Good!" he cried. "I shall want the platoons ready for action In three weeks. Not one day later." It was up "to me to have them ready. So I got busy at once. My first move was an abduction. There happened to be in Torreon Jail at that time a first class bank robber named Jefferson, who was being held for tbe arrival of extradition papers from Texas. The day after my guns arrived Jefferson escaped, and though the authorities made diligent search they failed to find him. He knew more about machine guns than I did. His profession bad made him an excellent mechanic. Furthermore, he bad Yankee ingenuity and American "git up and git." We soon had all twenty guns set up in working order. Then came the problem of tbe gun crews. Our Indians, slow, thick-head ed, stubborn and stolid, were no fit material for such . highly specialized -work. Maohine gun manipulation require special qualifications In every man concerned. Three men compose the crew. One squats behind the shield and pulls the trigger. " The second, prone, slides the clips of cartridges into the breech. The third passes up the supply of ammunition. At any moment the gun may beat and jam. Also, at any moment any one of the trio may fall, yet his work must be carried on.' I have seen a gunner sit cn the dying body of a comrade and coolly aim and fire, the action being so hot there was no time to drag the wounded man aside. You cannot take an Indian wild from the hills and in twenty-one days ft, him to do such work as that by ar "pourse of training. My only resorrfas to get my gun crews ready made. A brigade not far away from ours possessed machine gun platoons which were the pride of its heart. I looked at them, and broke first tbe Tenth and then the Eighth Commandment. To a wise old sergeant I gave a hundred pesos. "Juan," I told him, "get the men of those machine gun crews drunk in this quarter of Torreon. And encourage them to be noisy." Juan obeyed instructions. Once the pulque and mescal took hold the men I wahted became boisterous enough to justify our provost guard in running them all in. The rest was simple. The breach of discipline was only condoned by Gen. Rodriguez on condition that the culprits were turned over to him for further discipline. So I got my gun crews. I was beginning to have hopes. Tbe best saddler in the city was making holsters. When I first approached him with my order he had promptly thrown up his hands. "There is not a scrap of leather left in Torreon," he said. I instantly thought of chair backs. In Spanish countries furniture upholstered in old carved Cordovan leather is an heirloom. In time of war rutblessnesa is a useful quality. I soon presented my saddler with sufficient leather for my purpose and could turn my attention to pack saddles. Not eve the sawbuck frames were procurable in Torreon, but wood was plenty. And there was a jail filled with idle prisoners. Ten days after my first sight of my guns I was able to report to Gen. Rodriguez that the platoons were coming along. "But I have no mules for them yet," I hinted. He sent a hundred next day, beauties, fat, strong, in tbe pink of condition. But they had come straight down from the mesa. They could be trusted to kick saddles, guns, tripods, holsters and ammunition cases into low visibility at the least provocation. Torreon was celebrating its new Constitutionalism with daily bullfights. Each afternoon while the fight was on the plasa before the entrance to the ring was crowded with public rigs in waiting, all drawn by sorry-looking mules, half fed and too worn out to have a single kick left in them. With a squad of troopers I descended on the plaza one day, No cabbie anywhere is markedly shy or retiring, and these wore hill-bred rauleteros. But we got the mules in the end. "You are getting the best of the bargain," I assured them. I am only swapping with you. In the corral I have a hundred fine, strong, new mules worth three times as much as these played-out beasts you are getting rid of. You can have the nice new ones to-morrow." If Gen. Trinidad ever guessed how thoroughly improvised his favorite outfit was the second in command a bank robber on enforced vacation, the gunners kidnapped, the equipment made by forced labor from commandeered material and the mules snatched rudely from between the shafts of cabs he made no comment. He did not live long to enjoy tho fruits of my labors. In mid-June, during the ten-day attack which resulted In the fall of Zacatecas, he was mortally wounded. I shall always remember that day, not only for the death of my chief, but for a personal bit of adventure. I was temporarily away from my guns with some riflemen in a trench. The enemy fire was very hot and the men became exceedingly restive. Something had to be done to steady them, for there was no cover of any sort on the bullet-swept, shrapnel-searched THE LOVLY BEGINNING OF A $1,000,000 ROMANCE and Its Eleventh-Commandment Climax 8 c ft Vf RS. JOHNSON is confidante and counsellor toner husband's employees. will never he told until it is sympathy rWENTY years ago George F. Johnson teas a shoeworhjer. earning $20 a wtt as foreman of a treeing room in Binghcmtan, N. Y. In the stitching-room of the same factory was a girl named Alary, tcho teas for clady. To-day the man is the general manager and half-owner of one of the largest shoe manufacturing companies in the world, and Mary is Mrs. George F. Johnson. . Their rise from obscurity to millions ricals the stories of Horatio Alger's heroes. The growth of the company is something of a commercial phenomenon. But the real story of Mr. and Mrs. George F. Johnson Written in terms of human it can be transacted successfully only as long as the personal, human note predominates. The business may be that of advising a young girl who has come to her with her troubles, of helping a family whom poverty, has touched, of caring for tbe sick; but it is hers and hers alone. "Many of these cases are simple," Mrs. Johnson told an interviewer for this Magazine. "Perhaps it is just a question of money, and perhaps it is something more something that only advice, or a smile, or a kindly touch of the hand on the shoulder, can give. Did you ever stop to think of the wonderful power of a smile? The big problems are the TWO weeks ago George F. Johnson gave a dinner to thirty guests in a Binghamton hotel. It was a good dinner; and the favors, tucked away in napkins, were one-hundred-dollar bills! The guests were men whose foreman Mr. Johnson had been in the old treeing room twenty years before. First names were the order of the evening. Three days later Mrs. Johnson gave a dinner to twenty guests in the same hotel. Here, too, was a good dinner, and the favors were $100 in gold. The guests were girls whose forelady Mrs. Johnson had been twenty years before. Again first names were passed across the table. 'In the village of Endicott, nine miles west of Binghamton, a whistle much prouder and noisier than that which called the Johnsons to work in the old days now summons 12,000 employees every morning. George F. Johnson and his wife never fail to answer its call. They re still working people. Quite as though a dinner nail were swinging at his side, "George F.", as he is popularly known, walks over to his small office, partitioned off from the office of a clerical force only by thin pine boarding and throws open a plain oak desk. In the meantime .Mrs. Johnson is getting ready for a long day's work. She knows that before long the telephone and doorbell will be ringing, and there will be those among the employees of the factory who will need help. And giving help and advice is Mrs. Johnson's big business in life. - It is a business which she conducts personally, without a secretary, without an office force, believing 0 n - I (ill C Cr Q ET the other fellow's point of view, is the eleventh commandment of George F. Johnson employer of 12.000 shoemakers. ones which require just human sympathy to straighten out. "Mr. Johnson and I have many ideas in common concerning how labor should be considered. Coming from the ranks, we have never forgotten the impressions of the early days and the unsatisfactory conditions which existed then. Nothing has arisen since that time to alter my point of view, except to strengthen the opinion I have always had that the strife, more or les3 in evidence between the employer and the employee, i3 needless and unprofitable to both." Listen now to the story of the husband of this woman: "It's the human problem which requires the Vf RS. JOHNSON was once a forelady x in the factory of which her husband, then a foreman, is now half owner. greatest thought. Our problems are daily probletr. We are here every day to adjust the relations between members of a great family. Living with our people gives us a livelier sympathy which helps to solve the problems of labor and capital. We learn our lessons by experience. The day of the strike is gradually passing. Twenty years from now there will be no strikes. The day will come when the large corporation will not dare to have a strike, when labor will not dare to have a strike. The public will not stand for it. Twenty years from now the give-and-take policy will be all-powerful. No satisfactory Tesults ever can be reached except by mutual agreement. Ultimately you've got to be satisfied as one party to a bargain and the other fellow must be satisfied as the other party to the bargain. Ask both Mr. and Mrs. Johnson the lesson which life has taught them, and the answer will be the same: "Get the other fellow's point of view." That, to them, is the eleventh commandment. Mrs. Johnson, is neither Suffragist not an "anti. "I don's know anything about it at all," she says. "Why should it have interest for me. My life is full here among the people." "Spirit of the West" Girl Now Colorado's Assistant Attorney General CLARA MOZZOR, at the age of twenty-three,' is Assistant State's Attorney . of Colorado first and only woman in the land to achieve that office. This frail young girl has demonstrated what women can accomplish in America by unconquerable ambition and unbeatable determination, even in the face of most serious obstacles. "Spirit of the West" girl, they call her, since a noted Bculptor asked her to pose for a statue embodying the idea of Western progres-siveness: and "Spirit of the Wesf girl she is, if her remarkable record counts for anything. At seventeen Clara was graduated from high school, and because she had devoted many hours of close application to the study of the violin (crowded in between Greek and Latin and mathematics) she had already become fairly well known as a musician of ability. With vision beyond her years she saw, however", that financial success for the musician was extremely doubtful. And so, with deep regret, she put her violin in its case and decided to be a lawyer. Easy enough, such a decision. But the cost of living was constantly on the increase and although her Russian parents held firmly to the traditions of the Jewish race in their desire to give their first-born the advantages of thorough education, only through the greatest sacrifices on their part could Clara finish her high school education. With poverty and sickness in the background a course in law school seemed out of the question. THE story of how she won her degree and started upon her career as lawyer reads like a romance. It spelled work unending work, for Clara. She had written a story for the magazine section of the Springfield Republican when she was thirteen. It was accepted. In the light of this success it seemed feasible to buy a college education with the efforts W HAT CLARA MOZZOR HAS DONE. At 13, sold her first newspaper story. At 1 4, had become a promising violinist. At 15, reporter on a daily newspaper. At 16, a playground instructor. At 17. a graduate from high school. At 18, teacher of foreign born children in public schools. At 19, lecturer at Western Chautauquas and instructor in a teachers' institute. At 20, a graduate of law school. At 21, admitted to the Colorado Bar. At 22, won her first cases. And At 23, she was appointed Assistant Attorney General of the State of Colorado. N S3 F1 0 LA Photo by Clarence Ellsworth. C LARA MOZZOR. at twenty-three, enjoys the unique dis- tinction of being the first woman ever ehosen to be a State Assistant Attorney General. of her pen. The result of this decision was the A. B. degree at Denver University, and an LL. B. from the University of Colorado, bought with a salary earned as a reporter on Denver papers. Her courage and physical strength were amazing. She reported for work at 8 o'clock in the morning, tramped about getting news and sat at her typewriter writing it until noon. Then she took a train for the State University, spent the afternoon digging into law books and returned home at night too tired to think. Burning the candle at both ends had not served to make her very robust when at last she had been admitted to the Bar, the youngest woman to pass the examinations in the State. And then, as is the experience of most newly-made lawyer her shingle swung unheeded for a long time before she had a case. When she appeared in court for the hearing of her first case the judge was reluctant to believe that she was the lawyer for the defence. She won her case, of course. "JVriSS MOZZOR, in the twenty-three years of her busy life has done many things besides newspaper work and the practice of law. In the lean years during which she was making herself known and respected as a lawyer, she met living expenses by acting as playground instructor, by lecturing at teachers institutes, by teaching foreign-born children and by Chautauqua work. Her appointment to the office of Assistant Attorney General was recently announced by Leslie E. Hubbard, Attorney General of Colorado. The women voters of Colorado did much to bring her to the fore. The new official of the State of Colorado is a brunette, with soft brown eye and a figure so lithe and graceful that a famous sculptor recently travelling through Colorado selected her to pose as the "Spirit of the West." plain behind us. Retreat was impossible. There were plenty of horrors in the situation the blaze of sun, the sense of isolation, the cries and curses of the men who were being struck. And there was the cactus. Unless you have been under fire of high-power rifles in a region where the common broad-leaved caotus grows you cannot guess its nerve-shaking possibilities. A jacketed bullet can pierce a score of leaves without much diminution of its velocity, and as they pass the thick, juicy flesh lets out a sound like the phut! phut! of some gigantic cat. Ten Mauser bullets piercing cactus can make you believe a whole Lattalion is concentrating its fire on your one small precious person. The men were getting demoralized-If they broke I was done for. If I stayed in the trench alone, the Federals would eventually get me and stand me up to the nearest walL If I retreated with them, nothing was gained. X- man can hope to ouR& a bullet for more than a mile art most. I stood up, exposing my body from mid-thigh upward to that withering fire and took out my cigarette case. The nearest men watched sidewise," waiting to see me fall. By some fortune I was not hit, and after a moment I looked down at the man beside me. "Hello. Pablo!" I said; "why aren't you smoking too?" I offered my case to him, but took good care to stretch out my arm quite level. To get at the contents he had to rise to his feet. Habit won. He did not even hesitate, and I held my cigarette, Maxi-can fashion, for him to take a light. Once commited In that fashion, he was too proud to show the white feather, and he and I smoked our cigarettes out while the bullets flew. It was the longest cigarette, I think. I ever smoked, but it turned the trick. We held on to that trench till darkness put an end to the fire. After the capture of Zacatecas I went to the staff of Gen Raul Madero. with the rank of Major- The invitation had been extended several times before. Now that Trinidad was dead, there was nothing to hold m back, and I very glady joined the official family of the brother of the murdered President. Since my first association with him. before Ojinaga, he had impressed me as the ablest man I had seen south of the Rio Grand", The closer and constant contact entailed by my becoming a member of his staff confirmed that feeling. Raul Madero has clarity of Intelligence, encyclopaedic grasp of Mexican affairs, Eocial, religious, political and financial, and a winning personality that masks abundant energy and determination. I had only six weeks with him. On June 28, you remember, the Archduke Francis Ferdinand of Austria was assassinated. All through July the Austrian Government was formulating its demands on Serbia, which culminated in the ultimatum of July 23. Long before that I had formed my own opinion as to which way the wind was to blow. And I bad a suf5ciantly conceited no- tion of my usefulness as a trained and experienced agent to believe that when the general European disturbance should break out my days as a soldier of fortune in Mexico would be ended- Toward the end of July a stranger brought me credentials proving him a messenger from Consul Kueck in El Paso. 'The Consul." he told me, "wishes to ask you one question, and the answer is a yes . a no. This is the question: In case your Government wished your services again, could she expect to receive them? "Yes." I answered. It was not very long before I received a telegram from Kueck. "Come was all it said. That is how and why one "Baron von der Goltz came up from Mexico into the United States. Tbe border newspapers printed accounts of his I-assage and sketchy comments on his career, referring to him generally aa tne German a ttarba with Geh. Vulaa army. T VI v ! : r i' 9

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