I got a few minutes by myself following the Inauguration, and wandered the streets of the nation’s capital seeking a place to live. I decided to seek a rental unit for now, because my wife Sallie was still pouting that she wasn’t able to go to Paris. I wasn’t sure what Paris looked like, but I am sure she would not be impressed by Washington City.
When I met with Mr. Lincoln, he told me that I was to be the United States Federal Marshal of the District of Columbia. My job, he said, would include having authority over the jails and prisons and being the host of many of the town’s social functions. I would get a fair salary and would be allowed to enhance that with monies derived from transporting and feeding the prisoners. Best of all, Mr. Lincoln would be my sole supervisor. I would report directly to him, with no one else in the way. He assured me that he would also use me for “whatever was needed at the time”.
Not everyone was thrilled with me becoming U.S. Federal Marshal. Local politicians opposed the appointment because I was not a resident of the District. My hometown newspaper, the Bloomington Pantagraph supported me, by saying in an editorial “Hill will make a good Marshal, we have no doubt. We believe was have never heard of his attempting anything he didn’t accomplish.”
The Washington Bar organization produced over 140 signatures supporting my appointment.
Mr. Lincoln, realizing that every federal job would now turn over since his was the first Republican administration, opened the White House to anyone and everyone. Lines formed as people filed in to see him all day, every day. I urged that he let me at least check their persons for weapons, but Mr. Lincoln nixed the idea. “People of this country,” he reminded me, “have the right to bear arms.” Yes, but that being true, didn’t make my life any easier.
W. H. Lamon
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