Cold Open

It’s 8 PM, on December 4th, 1875, on Madison Avenue in New York City.

52-year-old William “Boss” Tweed stands in the shadows outside his brownstone, flipping his golden pocket watch open, then shut, and then open again. His ride should be here any moment—and his freedom depends on it.

Boss is a disgraced politician who’s been jailed on corruption charges. But earlier today, he was allowed a supervised visit home from Ludlow Prison. But Boss has decided he isn’t returning to his cell. So instead, a few minutes ago, he snuck away from his guards.

A covered wagon pulls up in front of the house. Boss glances along the street. The coast is clear.

He steps out of the shadows and hauls his heavyset frame into the back of the wagon.

Then the driver sets off. There’s still no sign his escape has been discovered. So, Boss breathes a sigh of relief, and a wave of confidence rushes over him. This is going to work.

But then, they stop again.

Boss anxiously peeks out from behind the driver.

Ahead, a streetcar has slipped off its tracks. Boss’s heart sinks when he sees who’s helping at the scene: a handful of cops.

Boss ducks back down, his heart pounding. They’re still only a couple of blocks from his house. If the guards notice he’s gone and raise the alarm, the game will surely be up.

But the police officers work quickly. With a screech of metal, the streetcar slips back onto the tracks. And as it moves away, Boss’s wagon follows. He covers himself in an old sack, hardly daring to breathe. But the cops don’t give the wagon a second glance as it passes. It rumbles down the street, carrying Boss away toward a new life as a fugitive.

William “Boss” Tweed will furtively make his way to the banks of the Hudson River, where he’ll board a rowboat and cross to New Jersey. On the water, he’ll gaze back at the New York skyline. Only a few years ago, he was the most powerful man in that city. But from now on, he will have to hide in farmhouses, on deserted beaches, and eventually leave America entirely, leading a life on the run that began on December 4th, 1875.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is December 4th, 1875: Boss Tweed Escapes Prison.

Act One: Gang of New York

It’s April 1870, in New York City, five years before William “Boss” Tweed’s daring prison break.

32-year-old Louis John Jennings weaves along a busy street, ducking past pedestrians and dodging carriages and streetcars. The British journalist has just moved here from London, and he’s eager to make a name for himself in his new job as the editor of the New York Times.

As Louis hurries along Broadway, he spots a sharply dressed man exit a carriage and bound up the steps of City Hall, where he’s met by the mayor himself. Louis pauses and watches as the mayor bows to the well-dressed man, greeting him as if he were royalty. Curious, Louis asks a passerby who the visitor is. And the New Yorker’s response is one of disbelief. Everyone knows who that is: it’s Boss Tweed, the most powerful man in the city.

A former store clerk turned State Senator and Commissioner of Public Works, Boss Tweed has spent the last 20 years climbing to the top of the Democratic machine in New York. From that perch, Boss now controls nominations, rigs votes, and steers public money toward himself and his allies. It’s made him one of the richest and most powerful men in the city—and even if Louis John Jennings didn’t recognize him straightaway, even a newcomer like him had at least heard Boss Tweed’s name.

Realizing the spectacle is over, Louis resumes his walk to work. But he can’t shake the image of the mayor bowing to Boss Tweed. The power imbalance between the two men was clear, and it strikes Louis as undemocratic that one man can hold such influence. So, when Louis reaches his new office, he calls a meeting. He’s sure that there’s a great story to be written about Boss—one which digs into the underhanded methods he uses to control the city. But the response of his team surprises him. No one wants to take the story. It seems that Boss’s influence isn’t restricted to City Hall—Boss is so powerful that even reporters don’t dare to risk their careers by taking him on.

But unlike the rest of the New York Times staff, Louis hasn’t spent the last few years being intimidated by Boss. He’s an outsider—and he can smell a great story. So, he decides to take it on himself.

Boss is Commissioner for Public Works, and rumor has it that he’s exploiting the position for personal profit. He’s alleged to have bought up cheap property, earmarked those areas for new development, and then sold the lots for enormous profit. He’s awarded big-money contracts to his friends and taken a cut for himself. And he’s said to have earned a fortune in kickbacks for projects including Central Park Zoo, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Brooklyn Bridge.

It’s a lot to investigate. And even after weeks of work, Louis has no concrete proof of Boss’s wrongdoing. The falsified leases, the inflated contracts, and doctored accounts are all locked away in City Hall, and no reporters are allowed near them. So in his office, Louis drops his pen and sits back, frustrated.

He lifts his head when there’s a knock at the door. A staffer enters and places a copy of Harpers Weekly on the desk, opened to a cartoon by Thomas Nast. Louis leans forward and takes a look. The cartoon depicts Boss Tweed dressed as a Shakespearean villain, standing over a body labelled as the “corpse of democracy” and a plundered New York City Treasury.

Louis chuckles. Because it seems like he’s not the only newspaperman willing to challenge Boss after all. But this realization that he’s not alone motivates him to keep chasing the story, no matter what.

So, Louis steps up his investigation. Using the New York Times as a platform, he attacks Boss’s lavish lifestyle, political power, and suspicious finances. But his articles don’t seem to cut through. Many New Yorkers like Boss Tweed, and in public, he simply ignores the allegations.

But in private, Boss is furious and determined to fight back. He has his lawyers file several lawsuits against the New York Times, and since Boss has the deeper pockets, he knows he can drag the fight out longer through the courts. The Times will have to back down, or it’ll be forced out of business.

But just when Louis thinks he’s out of options, a stroke of luck will come his way. He will obtain the scoop of the century, and the damning evidence that it provides will be enough to bring down the most powerful man in New York City.

Act Two: Irish Fiddler

It’s July 18th, 1871, at the New York Times building, one year into an investigation into William “Boss” Tweed’s corruption.

At his desk, editor Louis John Jennings is working through one of his reporters’ articles when the sound of a man clearing his throat catches his attention. Looking up, he sees a burly figure lingering at the office door, an envelope tucked under his arm. Louis recognizes his visitor. It’s 30-year-old Jimmy O’Brien, a former county sheriff.

Jimmy has a history with Boss Tweed. A few years ago, Jimmy criticized Boss at some Democratic Party meetings, and he’s been paying the price ever since. Boss blocked his re-election as sheriff and then refused to reimburse Jimmy’s campaign expenses. Now, Jimmy is politically and financially ruined. So, he’s out for revenge.

Jimmy steps forward and sets the envelope on Louis’s desk. He explains that he isn’t prepared to sit back and watch Boss destroy the Democratic Party. The documents inside the envelope prove all the allegations that Louis has been investigating. And then, without a word, Jimmy turns and leaves.

As soon as he’s alone, Louis opens the envelope and scans its contents. He can hardly believe his eyes. Jimmy has given him three years of city accounts—the crucial documents that reporters have been blocked from accessing.

And it soon becomes clear why they’ve been kept under lock and key. Once they’re examined, the accounts prove that fraud and embezzlement is widespread at New York City Hall. Louis has been handed a smoking gun—and he wastes no time in spreading the word.

Two days later, the front page of the New York Times splashes the story under the headline “The Secret Accounts.” The article reveals that under Boss Tweed’s instructions, the city has paid astronomical amounts for public works, with the payments all funneled into the account of Ingersoll and Company—a firm owned by a friend of Boss Tweed.

It’s clear evidence of corruption and embezzlement—and it’s only the beginning. Over the next week, the Times releases document after document, each revealing another layer of Boss’s rotten network.

This time, Boss knows that Louis has enough evidence to bring him down—and it makes him panic. He sends a messenger with an offer for Louis —if he halts the investigation and withdraws the accusations, Boss will give him $5 million. But Louis rejects the offer. He sees it as a sign of desperation from a man who knows he’s running out of time.

And less than two months later, a judge orders an independent board to oversee spending at City Hall and forbids any more payments to firms linked to Boss. Under increasing pressure, some in Boss’s inner circle turn on him. They cooperate with the new board, giving evidence about the corruption they’ve witnessed at City Hall.

But others rally around Boss Tweed. And Boss definitely declares his intention to run for re-election to the state senate. His message is clear—he’s not going anywhere.

But then, in the fall of 1871, a Grand Jury brings charges against Boss’s closest ally, the Mayor of New York. Not long after, a warrant is issued for Boss himself. He’s arrested at his office, surrounded by his lawyers.

But despite his looming trial on corruption charges, Boss remains popular in New York. Many voters see the campaign against him as politically motivated, and he wins re-election to the state senate.

But his political success doesn’t dispel his legal difficulties. It takes two years for his case to work its way through the courts, but when a verdict is finally delivered, he’s found guilty on all 204 counts.

A year in prison finally seems to break the spell Boss Tweed holds over the Democratic Party in New York. And after his release, he finds his political power and influence have been shattered. And when he fails to hand over $6 million he’s been ordered to repay, Boss is again arrested and locked up once more.

Unable to pay the enormous sum he owes, Boss realizes there’s only one way to avoid spending the rest of his life behind bars. He needs to escape. So, he sets a daring plan in motion.

Calling on the few connections he has left, Boss wiggles his way into a supervised visit home. He then writes a letter from his cell, arranging for an accomplice to drive a wagon by his house. At a prearranged time, Boss Tweed will slip away from his guards and out of the front door. Then, disappearing into the night, he will begin a new life as America’s most wanted fugitive.

Act Three: Cuba Libre

It’s September 6th, 1876, in Vigo, Spain, nine months after William “Boss” Tweed escaped from prison.

The local Governor leads a detachment of soldiers onto the cargo ship Carmen. The vessel has just arrived from Cuba after a month at sea with a hold full of sugar, tobacco, and coffee. But it’s not the cargo the Governor’s interested in.

He scans the deck and spots a tall, disheveled man scrubbing the planks. The Governor moves closer, comparing the man’s face to a cartoon in the American magazine Harper’s Weekly. The resemblance is unmistakable. This deckhand is the man he’s looking for—the international fugitive Boss Tweed.

After his escape from New York City, Boss traveled down the Eastern Seaboard, hiding in safehouses and camping on secluded beaches. He eventually hitched a ride on a fishing trawler bound for Cuba. He was recognized on arrival, though, so he slipped away again on another ship, this time bound for Spain—but word of the fugitive has reached even here.

Confident that he has the right man, the Governor of Vigo places a firm hand on the sailor’s shoulder. He tells him that he’s under arrest. At first, the sailor claims that it’s a case of mistaken identity. But eventually, he admits that he is indeed William “Boss” Tweed.

For the next few weeks, Boss is imprisoned in Vigo Fortress and kept under close watch. Then, he’s handed over to the American authorities and placed on a US Navy frigate. After a stormy voyage across the Atlantic, Boss finally arrives back in New York on November 23rd, 1876.

But even after his trial and conviction for corruption, Boss is still popular with many ordinary New Yorkers. Crowds of them line the dock to cheer his arrival. But Boss is no longer the imposing figure he once was. As he steps off the ship, he stumbles and falls. Guards haul him upright and bundle him into a waiting carriage.

Boss is taken back to prison. And in the months that follow, he will try to broker a deal with the authorities and secure an early release. But the stress of the endless court hearings will take their toll. Diabetes will weaken his lungs, his hair will turn white, and he’ll be unable to walk without a cane. Eventually, Boss will die from pneumonia while still incarcerated in Ludlow Street Prison, a sorry end for a man who could once boast of being the most powerful politician in New York, before he became a fugitive from the law on December 4th, 1875.

Outro

Next on History Daily. December 5th, 1945. Five Navy bombers mysteriously vanish over a patch of sea known as the Bermuda Triangle.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mollie Baack.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Angus Gavan McHarg.

Edited by Scott Reeves.

Managing producer Emily Burke. Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.