Introduction

This is the fourth book in the Writer Don series and his interviews with those who have passed on.

This book is a fictionalized account of my interview with Mary Todd Lincoln; her family, before being married to Abraham, her years in the white house and after.

The knowledge she found out, about who really murdered her husband; the sixtieth President of these United States and why.

I have used both actual and fictionalized information to write this book.

From rumors that Mary Todd Lincoln was sympathetic to the southern cause, to her bouts with mental depression, to her difficulty negotiating White House social responsibilities.

You may find out things about Mary Todd Lincoln and the President that you never knew. I know I did, such as Mary’s four brothers fought for the southern cause, two dying in major battles of the Civil War; Samuel at Shiloh and Alexander at Baton Rouge and that Mary never publicly mourned for her dead brothers.

That President Lincoln’s other brother-in- law, Benjamin Hardin Helm, who graduated from West Point, and served in the United States Army, up until the war, became a Confederate general, who died at the battle of Chickamauga, which greatly saddened the president, and the events surrounding Lincoln’s assassination and the cover up.

After the assassination of her beloved husband, Abraham, which Mary called a murder, Mary Todd Lincoln traveled to Europe. When she returned to America, in 1871, the death of her son, Tad, was too much for her to bear and, three years later, her only son, Robert, would have her committed to a mental institution in Batavia, Illinois, gaining her own freedom four months later.

With facts, rumors and my imagination, I have written my interview with Mary Todd Lincoln.

Speaking With the Dead Again

It has been a few years since I was last contacted by anyone who had passed.

This ability was both a blessing and a burden; to be awakened at two in the morning by William Shakespeare wanting me to pen his latest play. In a strange way, I sort of miss speaking to those who have passed and the valuable information and insights into those people and their lives, which we can only read about now.

On several occasions, I have called on those who have passed but without any results, even William Shakespeare did not answer. I was sure if anyone would answer it would have been Will, as he liked to be called.

Looks like another thunderstorm coming in, as is the normal pattern for summer afternoons in Florida.

Did that lightning bolt just hit the floor and why am I dizzy?

"Writer Don, can you hear me? It is Will, William Shakespeare.

Writer Don, are you okay, you don’t look good at all, for you are like a wilted flower in a dried garden."

Will, William Shakespeare?

Yes, I do stand before thine eyes, it is I, William Shakespeare, or for you, good friend, as always, Will.

I believe that a thunder bolt came through the window and hit the floor. There Will, a mark on the floor.

Ah yes, as my own eyes would never deceive me or my soul.

The first time this happened I was struck by lightning, giving me the capability of being able to speak to those who had passed, now this, a close call by another lightning strike and once more I can speak to those who have passed.

Yes indeed, my good man, never a closer call has done thee no harm and now will you pen my latest and greatest play?

Maybe……. sure.

Writer Don, did you just say yes? May a friend as you never fade but be as the sun, which will surely rise every day.

Sure Will, I will pen your latest and greatest play.

"Then, before the cock shall call in the morning, we shall commence.

The title shall be known as, The Rose in My Life. By William Shakespeare and pen by D. R, Hann."

Will, we have a problem.

There are only opportunities and never shall a problem appear.

Will, if I write that this play was written by William Shakespeare they may take me to a rubber room.

"Ah, yes, I believe we had discussed that problem before.

Okay, as the wise man sayeth, I always have the answer, which comes from my very soul.

Try this one on Writer Don. Penned by D. R. Hann, inspired by William Shakespeare."

Yes, you’ve got it Will.

"No wind, water, or foul weather shall keep my greatest play from being born from thy sweat of thy brow.

Shall we now commence?"

"I call upon you Writer Don; for this is Mary Todd Lincoln, wife of the sixteenth President of these United States, the Honorable Mr. Abraham Lincoln.

I call upon you to write my truth so that all Americans shall know the truth about the dirty scoundrels who murdered my Abraham."

My good woman, this is William Shakespeare and I am truly sorry to say that Writer Don is not available, for he is penning my greatest play for which society can no longer wait, nor should it have to wait so much as an ounce in time longer to be given my chosen words once more.

"William Shakespeare, would you deny a woman the chance to tell what transpired one hundred and fifty years ago, and that I, on my death bed, did pledge with my heart and soul that after that milestone of one hundred and fifty years past the murder of my Abraham, I would once more walk the earth to find someone who could hear me crying out from the grave and would set the truth down so that all may see it.

Would you, William Shakespeare, deny a woman that?"

"Your heart and soul pricks my heart and soul Mary Todd Lincoln and so as a man of truth I will yield to you.

Writer Don, with great burden of having my greatest plays yet still denied, I yield to Mary Todd Lincoln."

Mary Todd Lincoln, this is Writer Don, I will listen to you and I hope what I write for you will give you peace and justice.

"Writer Don, I only will tell the truth about those scoundrels who murdered my Abraham.

To you, Sir William Shakespeare, a heartfelt thank you."

Writer Don, this is Nikola, Nikola Tesla.

Oh no, you shall not cut the line, as they say today, for as I am William Shakespeare. I stand firm, for this deep torture that I feel is as my hell and I will not be denied, I am after Mary Todd Lincoln.

As the young ones say, cool your jets William, for I did not come to cut the line, for I came to let Writer Don know if his powers to talk to us who have passed, fail, then he must get close to a lightning strike and to make it safe for him, the best place would be in his car.

Crabbed age and youth cannot live together, in action. You are like an angel Nikola Tesla; I bow before you and take my leave.

Nikola, it is good to hear from you my friend.

"And so very good to hear from you my good friend, Writer Don.

Do you understand what I have said Writer Don?"

Yes Nikola, if I should lose the ability to talk to those who have passed, I should get into my car and look for a thunderstorm until lightning strikes and hits near, which should, once more, give me the ability to speak to those who have passed.

Yes, very good, please let me know if you need my help Writer Don, I will try and keep William occupied.

"Thank you Nikola.

Mary Todd Lincoln, it is my honor to meet you, please start."

(Note to reader: When Mary Todd Lincoln speaks; it will be noted as MTL)

MTL: "Thank you Writer Don. Surely if my Abraham knew what I was doing he would become so very distraught with me as he has said, let history keep secrets, but as I told my Abraham it is now time America knows that dirty little secret which has been buried for far too long.

I must first tell about one of the worst times in my life, 1874; it was shortly after Tad had passed and ten years after my Abraham had passed.

Those in power, who did not want what I had done or the knowledge I had, come to the light of day, had my son, Robert, believe that I should be placed in that hell hole, called Bellevue, in Batavia, Illinois.

Bellevue, in plain simple language, was known as the crazy house, where the simpletons of the public were placed or so was the thinking back then. So little did society know about mental illness or depression, if only they knew what they know now, for sure, I would have had a much better life.

I had enlisted my good friend, Myra Bradwell, a very fine woman and attorney, who believed that I was not insane, and stated that she would remain committed to my release, lest I remain committed.

I was in there when my sweet son, Tad, had passed.

It was at this time my very own son, Robert, said I may be insane; he thought that he knew the real truth.

There are those who said that I tried to commit suicide, which I did, twice on the same damn day, but that was after losing my dear Abraham and my three precious sons and so many of those souls to that damn war, then finding out that my only living son was going to have me committed to Bellevue. I

believe that was much more than most normal humans could bear.

After all of the heartache that befell upon me, first the death of my precious sons; Edward at age four, Willie at age eleven, and then my dear husband, Abraham, and then Tad, and to have my remaining son commit me to a place I did not even belong, I do not believe there are many sane mothers who would at least not contemplate doing themselves in.

So what crime did I commit and what knowledge do I possess that those in power did not want to see the light of the day?

I will tell all, every small and large detail, so that history may be rewritten and recorded as to what I, Mary Todd Lincoln, did and what knowledge I had during my time in that gracious house, the White House, which I would like to state here and now was a glorious southern plantation mansion,