Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

straight, saluting their fallen commander in chief.
Two of Abe’s sons were aboard with him, Robert, now a twenty-one-year-old army captain, and Willie, whose coffin had been removed from its temporary crypt and placed beside his father’s. Tad remained in Washington with Mary, who was too grief stricken to leave the White House. For thirteen days and nearly 1,700 miles, the train wound its way through the North, stopping in designated cities to lie in state. In Philadelphia, 300,000 people pushed and shoved to catch a glimpse of the slain president’s body. In New York, 500,000 stood in line to lay eyes on Abe, and a six-year-old Theodore Roosevelt watched his funeral procession go by. In Chicago, hundreds of thousands gathered around an outdoor viewing stand engraved with the words “Faithful to Right—Martyr to Justice.”
In all, more than twelve million people stood by the tracks to watch the funeral train pass, and more than a million waited in line to view the president’s open casket.
On Thursday, May 4th, 1865, a sea of black umbrellas shielded thousands of mourners from the scorching sun as Abe’s casket, sealed for all eternity, was carried into Oak Ridge Cemetery on a hearse pulled by six white horses.
As Bishop Matthew Simpson gave a stirring eulogy for the “Savior of the Union,” one particularly ashen mourner looked on from behind a pair of dark glasses, a black parasol in his gloved hands. Though his eyes were incapable of tears, he felt the loss of Abraham Lincoln more deeply than any living person in Springfield that day.
Henry remained by the closed gates of the receiving vault (where Abe and Willie’s caskets would remain until a permanent tomb could be built) long after the sun had set and the crowds dispersed, standing guard over his friend of forty years. Standing guard over the man who’d saved a nation from enslavement and driven darkness back into the shadows. He remained there most of the night, sometimes sitting in silent contemplation, sometimes reading the little slips of paper that people had left along with flowers and keepsakes at the foot of the iron bars. Henry found one of them particularly moving. It read simply:
“I am a foe to tyrants, and my country’s friend.” *
In 1871, Tad Lincoln—then living with his mother in Chicago—was stricken with tuberculosis. He died on July 15th at the age of eighteen. His body was taken to Springfield and placed in his father’s tomb beside brothers Willie and Eddy. Again, it was Robert who accompanied the funeral train, as Mary was too distraught to attend.
Of all Abe’s children, only Robert survived to see the new century. He would marry and father three children of his own, and in later life, he would serve two presidents, James Garfield and Chester A. Arthur, as secretary of war. He died peacefully at his estate in Vermont in 1926, at the age of eighty-two.
Tad’s death had been the final, irreparable blow to Mary Lincoln’s mental health. In the years that followed, she became increasingly erratic, often swearing that she saw her late husband’s face staring at her from the darkness on nighttime walks. She suffered from paranoia, insisting that strangers were trying to poison her or steal from her. She once had $56,000 worth of government bonds sewn into the linings of her petticoats for safekeeping. After Mary attempted suicide, Robert had no choice but to commit his mother to a psychiatric hospital. After her release, Mary moved back to Springfield, where she died in 1882, at the age of sixty-three. She was laid to rest beside the three young sons she’d wept for in life.
There would be several attempts to steal Abraham Lincoln’s body following the Civil War—until, at Robert Lincoln’s request, the casket was covered with cement in 1901, never to be seen again. None of the would-be grave robbers had had much success. In fact, none had even managed to pry the president’s heavy casket lid open.
If they had, they would have been shocked by what they found.

Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter
III
On August 28th, 1963, Henry Sturges stood in front of the Lincoln Memorial, his clothing and hair in keeping with the times, a black umbrella protecting his skin and dark glasses covering his eyes. He was accompanied by an uncommonly tall friend, his eyes behind a pair of Ray-Bans; his shoulder-length brown hair beneath a floppy brimmed hat. A bushy beard obscured his angular face, the same one staring down at him from its