On Tuesday the nation bows its head in reverence to the memory of Abraham Lincoln. The number of those who turn to the ideals of the martyred President for inspiration and faith on his natal day increases yearly. The ranks of those who knew him in person, however, are fast dwindling. Another decade or two--and Lincoln will live only in the printed pages of history.
    Of the small number of persons now alive who knew Lincoln in life, who saw him in his moments of trial and struggle, the one to tell her story today is Mrs. Frank Wynkoop, a woman of more than three score and ten, whose mind is rich in memories of the great American.

    Mrs. Wynkoop was known on the American stage for many years as Helen Truman. Starting in her teens she plunged into the only line of work then open to women who desired independence--the stage--and until she was well past 50 clung to her profession.
    Today with her husband, also of the stage but now retired, she lives in a comfortable little home in Los Angeles and still recalls the days gone by with a twinkle in her eye. She will gladly tell you her story, but when it comes to posing for a photograph--Mrs. Wynkoop is still very proud. Her wrinkles show too plainly. She advises the use of her girlhood photographs.
    It is only when she speaks of Lincoln that the aged actress changes her expression. She grows serious at the mention of his name,

and as she recites the story of her meeting with the man upon whose broad shoulders fell the task of saving the Union her eyes become tear-dimmed. She lives in the past and Lincoln is her hero. She loves to talk of him.

    She will tell you of her meeting with the man when, accompanied by her aged mother, she went before him to plead for her brother, condemned to die as a Confederate spy. Her eyes gleam when she tells of the pardon. She will hold your interest when she recounts the events of the winter of 1864 and 1865--when she saw Lincoln frequently at the theater. And finally, when she comes to the fatal night, the evening of April 14, 1865--when the great Emancipator was shot by John Wilkes Booth--Mrs. Wynkoop gives a graphic description of one of the most dastardly acts in history.
    Her story can perhaps be best told in a chronological manner and in her own words. In a recent interview she related her memories of Lincoln in the following manner:

    The first time I saw the President was on September 3, 1864. My mother and I had gone to Washington on August 20 to see President Lincoln in behalf of my brother--only a boy--who had been arrested and put in prison in Norfolk, Va., for running the blockade.
    Before going to Washington we had appealed to Gen. Wolfe, in command at Norfolk at that time, for a release or a pardon, but were told that the only person possessing authority to grant either was President Lincoln.
    We were at a loss as to methods for raising funds to get to Washington even after Gen. Wolfe had given us a pass as our worldly goods at that time consisted of a barrel or two of Confederate money which would buy us virtually nothing. We had lived in the South for many years, our plantation had been the scene of several battles and our slaves had been taken from us.

    Mother was fighting for the life of her son, however, and the lack of funds could not stop her. By pawning all the jewelry we had in the family we finally secured enough money to buy our tickets to Washington.
    On arriving at the capital we took a carriage at the station and rode to the White House. The day was very warm and when the driver of the cab helped mother alight I saw that she was nearly exhausted. She had to be helped up the steps by a soldier, who was standing guard, and I was fearful lest she collapse before we could see the President.
    I rang the door bell and a sentry appeared and asked our business. I told him we had come seeking an interview with the President and was informed that Mr. Lincoln was out of the city.
    Mother gasped and fell in a faint at the sentry's feet. A soldier rushed to her assistance and lifting her from the floor placed her on a haircloth sofa in the hall near the door and handed me a palm-leaf fan from several on a near-by table. Water was brought and the soldier set out to get a doctor.

    The sentry, who was unable to leave the door, pressed a bell and a negro in uniform answered. He was asked to send his wife to attend mother and shortly thereafter the negress arrived. Being an experienced nurse she quickly revived her patient. Later a doctor appeared and finding we were strangers in the city and from the South he took us to a private house where we awaited the return of the President to Washington.
    Hearing that the Chief Executive had returned from the front we returned to the White House on September 3, and fortunately happened to find the same sentry on guard at the door. He informed us the President was busy, but ushered us into a private room and promised to call us when the Chief Executive was at leisure.

    In about a half-hour he came and took us to another guard, who stood at the door of the President's room. We were taken into the room and I there saw President Lincoln for the first time. He was sitting at his desk, but turned as we entered and inquired pleasantly if he could be of any service to us. Mother was nervous and could scarcely speak, her sobs making her language incoherent.
    The President spoke to her in a calm, low tone and told her to rest a bit before telling her mission. In a few minutes she regained her composure and told him the story of her only son in prison at Norfolk as a blockade runner and of her efforts to get him released.
    All the while she spoke the President listened intently and did not interrupt until she had finished. He then told her he would look into the matter and have it investigated. He further advised her to get some rest and cease her worry. We were told that a decision would be reached within a week or ten days and that she would be notified.

    We could not find words to express our gratitude for his treatment, and as I now remember the man he was possessed of the most kindly face I have ever looked upon. While he was tall and perhaps ungainly in appearance he did not give any impression of awkwardness and his voice was moderate and kindly. One thing I noticed at this time and on later occasions when I saw him was that his necktie was always askew. But for this detail his dress was always immaculate.
    Mother was so overcome with the kindness displayed by the President that she knelt at his feet and uttered a prayer of thanks. Mr. Lincoln helped her to her feet and assured her it would be all right. He shook hands with both of us at our departure.
    We returned to our room to await the President's decision. After eight days of terrible suspense, mother could stand it no longer, and in addition our supply of funds was nearly exhausted, so we decided to again visit the White House. This time we were compelled to wait an hour or more and again reclined on that haircloth sofa in the hallway.

    Finally we were permitted to enter and found that the President remembered us. We were informed that my brother's case had been investigated and that another accusation had been found against him. As there was no conclusive proof of the latter charge--that of being a spy--the President stated he had granted a pardon and that it had been forwarded to Gen. Wolfe.
    Mother's gratitude then knew no bounds. The President stated that he appreciated her thanks, and wished us a safe journey on our departure. Our joy was so great that we were both in a near state of collapse as we left the White House. I remember now how hot the day was and how I longed to ask the President for a drink of water when we were in his office, but was afraid. Mr. Lincoln did not seem to mind the heat, however, and appeared very cool and comfortable during the interview.
    A short time later mother returned to her home in Norfolk, but I remained in Washington intent on securing employment. Our family had lost everything during the war and I felt that I had no choice, but to earn my own way. In those days the status of women was much different from that of the present time. The field of woman was very limited and really there was but one hope for me--I mean the stage.

    Deciding that I would attempt a theatrical career I first applied to John T. Ford at his theater on Tenth street and was very lucky, being engaged for the season which began September 22. Of course, I was allotted only minor parts but had the pleasure of playing in the same company with Mr. and Mrs. William Florence, who opened in "Dombey and Son." The city was crowded with soldiers on furlough who had long been away from any amusement and the house was packed nightly.
    It was the second week of "Dombey and Son" that I first saw President Lincoln at the theater. He came, as was his custom, I was informed, on Friday night, and occupied the box which we always designated as the President's box. This box when not used by the President or his wife was always occupied by Cabinet officers or other members of the President's official family.
    Maggie Mitchell in "Fanchon the Cricket" was the next actress to star for two weeks and Mrs. Lincoln, wife of the President, came the second week without the President. I remember she was dressed in white brocaded satin with a wreath of white roses on her hair and was accompanied by two women and an officer in uniform.

    She sat in the center of the box and bowed and smiled to those she knew throughout the audience. She carried a large bouquet and between acts called an usher and had the flowers presented to Maggie Mitchell. While I saw Mrs. Lincoln several times after this, it was a well-known fact that she preferred Grover's Theater on Pennsylvania avenue to Ford's.
    One visit of the First Lady to our theater I recall very vividly, however, it being at the time we were playing "Camille." Mrs. Lincoln appeared with a large party of women and during the play all of the women including Mrs. Lincoln enjoyed a good cry. Matilda Herron was the actress in the leading role and I think she was one of the greatest emotional actresses of the day. She had a great effect on her audiences and it was a rare sight of her performances to see a woman in the audience that was not crying.
    Some time later Mrs. D. P. Bowers played in "Fazie" and "Lady Audley's Secret" and I was fortunate enough to make such a good impression that she asked me to accompany her to Baltimore for two weeks. I accepted and was away from the Capitol for a fortnight.
    Upon my return Lotta was the star playing "The Seven Sisters." She was quite popular with the soldiers and it was no uncommon sight to see them throw gold coins on the stage during her performances. I played the part of "Mary Springleaf" and received favorable mention.

    A few weeks later President Lincoln again appeared at the theater, having returned from the front, and was a spectator at performances of "Married Life" and "The Rough Diamond." One remarkable thing about the President as I remember was the fact that although he seemed to thoroughly enjoy the plays he seldom applauded. His smiles were infrequent too and he would generally sit in the corner of the box away from the stage and held the curtain so that people would not stare at him. He was among the few theatergoers of the day, however, who always remained for the farce, it then being the custom to stage a farce or comedy after the drama.
    It was on Christmas Eve of that year that I first met John Wilkes Booth. It was Mr. Ford's custom to give a dinner to the members of his company after the performance of that evening and each member was permitted to bring a friend. Some one of the troop, I can't recollect now, brought John Wilkes Booth. I was introduced to him and recalled that I had heard of him before. He appeared to be a very pleasant man but was somewhat nervous. The dinner was a gay affair and we all enjoyed it. Little did I think then that one of our guests would a short time later end the life of our great President.

    The following week John E. Owens was our leading man in "Solon Shingle" and "Paul Fry." I remember that Mr. Lincoln attended a performance during the week and seemed to enjoy "Paul Fry" very much. He even smiled a time or two, which was rather unusual for him.
    It was on the evening of Friday, April 14, when Laura Keene with Harry Hawk and John Dyatt were appearing in "The American Cousin" that President Lincoln and Mrs. Lincoln appeared in the President's box. We were all notified of the fact and I managed to look into the box and saw that Mrs. Lincoln had on a new spring dress of a small pinhead check gray silk with a bonnet of the same material. Previous to this time she had appeared always in evening dress and we all remarked of the change.
    I later learned that Gen. Grant had been invited to accompany the party but had sent a telegram that he would be unable to attend. A box had been reserved for him and it was decorated in flags and banners. It was not occupied. As it had been announced the President and the commanding officer of the Union forces would appear, the house was crowded.

    Everything started smoothly and quietly and after coming off the stage from a front scene I tarried for a moment in the wings and looking to the President's box noticed Booth standing in the corner near its entrance. At first I thought it peculiar that he should be standing there but remembered that it was often the custom of actors and actresses to go to the President's box for introduction to the Chief Executive and really dismissed the incident from my mind.
    Booth saw me gazing at him and returned my nod of recognition. I then turned to return to my dressing room and had taken only a few steps when I heard a pistol shot. I stopped, remembered instantly there was no shooting in the play, and was about to make inquiry when I heard a woman scream.

    I shall never forget that shriek of horror. It was terrible. Looking toward the President's box I saw that something had happened. It was Mrs. Lincoln who was screaming.
    Just then I noticed a man rushing toward me. His face pale and drawn. I recognized him as John Wilkes Booth. Jennie Gourley--now Jennie Gourley Strothers--another actress, had by this time reached my side. As Booth passed in his flight he lunged at us with a knife in his right hand. He slashed the gown worn by Miss Gourley and continued madly on his way.
    The scene that followed has always been a nightmare to me. I stood at the first entrance opposite the President's box and was so shocked and nervous I could not move. The audience was in a panic. They all seemed to sense a terrible happening but did not know what it was. Laura Keene, the leading lady, rushed to the scene of the shooting and I saw her hold the head of the President in her lap. The blood from his wound fell on her gown but she seemed to be the coolest person in the house, giving directions for the summoning of physicians and in many other ways helping to aid the wounded President.

    It was very difficult to get the people out of the house even after the President had been removed. All seemed to be groping for a way to lend a helping hand, but no one had any definite idea as to the actual situation. All the members of the company, including myself, were in tears and it was after 1 'oclock that we left the theater for our homes. Taking my own case as an example I will wager there was little sleeping in Washington that night. The attempt on the life of President Lincoln coming at the time it did with the country in such a critical condition was a calamity which few living today can realize.
    With the death of the President the next day Washington turned to a city of mourning. All seemed to feel that they had lost a personal friend and every bit of black goods of any kind for sale in the city was utilized to drape the doors and windows of the homes. The change from a city decorated with flags and banners to one clothed in mourning was symbolic of the change in every heart. America's great statesman was no more.
    All members of our company were under suspicion for several days. While not placed under arrest we were told that we must not leave the city and all our mail was received and delivered to us at the War Department. Being from Virginia I was unable to get away from Washington until the next Autumn. As for Ford's Theater and the members of the company playing there at the time of the tragedy, the assassination of Lincoln was the end. Some of our group obtained employment for the rest of the spring and summer at the old National Theater and this was welcomed as we were all in need of money. The following fall I went to New York and obtained employment there.

    Mrs. Wynkoop stated that she believed two members of the company which played at Ford's Theater on the fatal evening of April 14, 1866, are still alive. She recently received a card from Jennie Gourley Struthers, who was living in Milford, and she also declared she believed Billy Ferguson still alive, although she was uncertain of his address.

Source:

Hotchkiss, L. D., "Ford Theater Actress Tells of Emancipator, Los Angeles Woman Whose Brother Won Pardon and Prison Release Witness at Assassination," The Los Angeles Times, Los Angeles, Sunday, 10 February 1924, pp. B19, B23.