Read The Murder of Jim Fisk for the Love of Josie MAnsfield: A Tragedy of the Gilded Age for Free Online

listens closely. Regimental enrollment is down, the envoys explain; uniforms are shabby; the armory is ancient. All this might change should Jim Fisk lend his support. They would be honored to recommend him to the rank and file for election as colonel of the regiment.
    The idea intrigues him. The pomp and pageantry of soldiering have always appealed to him. A steamboat line he owns lets him playact an admiral, but the National Guard is the real thing. During the Civil War he followed the custom of the financial classes in shunning enlistment while letting the draft fall on those who couldn’t afford to hire a substitute or pay the $300 commutation fee. The invitation from the Ninth Regiment seems a chance to reap the honorific benefits of service without crimping his business activities or facing the hazards of combat. If the men of the regiment become so loyal to their commander as to guard him against his personal enemies, all the better.
    “I’m no military man,” he tells his interlocutors. “I’ve never trained a day in my life, never shot off a gun or pistol, and don’t know even the ABCs of war, yet. Fact is, I doubt whether I could shoulder arms or file left, or make a reconnaissance in force, or do any of them things, to save my boots. And as for giving orders—why, I don’t know anything about it.” But he supposes he can learn. “Elect me, and then we’ll talk about it.” The men of the Ninth excitedly elect him, and he and they talk about all those matters, and others more immediate. He buys them uniforms, furnishes food and drink on weekend excursions, and outfits the regimental band with new instruments. The Ninth, lately the laggard of the New York regiments, becomes the pride of the city. Fisk offers $500 to the regimental company that enlists the largest number of fresh recruits; the resulting competition causes enrollment to double.
    Fisk determines to present his regiment to the city, and he can think of no better venue than the Opera House. The hall is crowded on a Saturday night in May 1870; the staging of The Twelve Temptations has drawn enthusiastic reviews. The curtain is late in rising, and the management has offered no explanation. The atmosphere grows oppressive; the ladies and some men fan themselves to catch a breath.
    Suddenly, just before nine, a commotion is heard outside the theater proper, in the foyer. Necks crane and eyes scan the doors. To no one’s great surprise, Fisk emerges as the source of the hubbub. He enters the hall, dressed in the full regalia of his colonelcy. Behind him, two by two, enter the five hundred men of the Ninth Regiment, stepping lively to the accompaniment of the regimental band. Fisk has saved the best seats for the soldiers, most of whom give the appearance of never having been inside such a theater. Awkwardly and noisily they find their places.
    Fisk beams, proud to show off his theater to his regiment and his regiment to the patrons of his theater. The audience, skeptical at first, allows itself to become part of the spectacle and offers rousing applause to these defenders of the state and their doughty commander.
    Yet one man bucks the tide of good cheer. A constable with a summons makes his way to Fisk, in the presence of the regiment and the regular audience. He hands the colonel the notice that he must answer to the authorities for an outstanding debt. Fisk scans the summons and with theatrical disgust tosses it to the floor. He proceeds to his personal box.
    The constable tries to follow Fisk, but several members of the regiment’s Company K, which deems itself Fisk’s personal bodyguard, block the way. One of the men retrieves the summons and reads it aloud. Messrs. McBride and Williams, grocers, have sued the colonel for alleged delinquency in paying for seventy-five pounds of butter. The total due is $41.25. The audience roars at the incommensurability of the present grand celebration and the measly butter bill. Fisk dramatically glowers