It was at the original address of 320 Wabasha St, that Saint Paul’s Grand Opera House once sat, and where a fascinating event took place, almost lost in the annals of Saint Paul lore. The Grand Opera House in its day, was one of the landmark buildings that literally put Saint Paul on the map. It sat approximately where the Chamber Building now meets the Radisson Hotel. When one sent a postcard to family out east, there was a good chance that the beautiful, stately façade of the Grand Opera House would be the picture on the front that would be proudly mailed. During a time when an evening’s entertainment meant a night at a concert or play, the Grand Opera House was a place where the city’s elite could enjoy a gentile and refined night out.
A matinee performance of a play called “My Partner” was performed here on the afternoon of Thursday, September 4th, 1884 and was received enthusiastically by all attending patrons. A special guest was also in attendance, famous Indian Chief Sitting Bull. The day before the performance, the St Paul Dispatch newspaper advertised the play as a special opportunity to see Sitting Bull in person. He was passing through, on parole from the Federal government, and signed to a contract as a living exhibit along with an entire entourage of Indians, all on display. Colonel Allen, his promoter, had arranged to open their new show in New York City, their next destination after Minnesota. In their stop in Saint Paul, however, they were guests and attendees at the Grand Opera House that day and Sitting Bull and his friends thoroughly enjoyed the play that afternoon. After the show, Sitting Bull’s party left their box seats, once the theater was cleared, and walked out single file, through the lobby of the opera house, where they were to meet their transportation back to their hotel. A few of the curious stayed behind to view the famous Indian. Sitting Bull himself walked fourth in file, and as their party slowly made their way through the lobby, eyewitnesses watching the spectacle soon saw something even more amazing unfurl before their eyes. From the crowd of stragglers, a man stepped forward, described as having a large hooked nose, of medium height, and dressed in gray clothes and a black slouch cap. He had a thick gray mustache and side-whiskers. His friend next to him was shorter, dressed in a brown suit, and had a brown mustache. Without hesitation or notice, the gray mustached man leveled a short nickel-plated British Bulldog style pistol at Sitting Bull. Witnesses were certain the man would not have paused to pull the trigger, and the revolver was aimed close range at Sitting Bull’s back, however his companion, the brown mustached man, reached out with lightening speed and struck down the gray mustached man’s arm, slamming the pistol’s barrel out of danger’s way. He then wrenched it from the gray mustached man’s hand and put the gun in his own pocket. He whispered in a low, urgent voice to the would–be assassin, “Don’t make a fool of yourself”. The gray mustached man replied “ Give me the gun and let me shoot the damn SOB. Damn him, I’ll shoot him!” According to witnesses, the agitated gray mustached man was not drunk, but seemed in deadly earnest ready and willing to kill Sitting Bull. It didn’t seem that Sitting Bull himself was really even aware of how close he came to death at that moment, and he and his compatriots continued from the lobby to their omnibus wagons outside, and simply rode away. The gray-mustached man and his friend walked out behind them, and continued down the street and out of the story.
A Saint Paul Dispatch reporter went directly to the Merchant’s Hotel as soon as he had gotten word of the near-assassination, in an attempt to interview Sitting Bull himself about the incident. He was refused entrance, but did get an earful from Colonel Allen, there to speak for the Indian chief. “That is just what I shall not permit” replied Colonel Allen, to the question posed by the reporter regarding Sitting Bull’s reaction to the attempt on his life. “He knows nothing about it, and I do not intend that anyone should get near him. He would be scared, and I don’t mean to have him scared. I have a guard at the door, and no one will be allowed to enter.”
No more is mentioned in the city’s newspapers about the subject, but it is an interesting little anecdote to Saint Paul’s unseemly history. To think that the city might potentially have been the site of the murder of an American historical icon, only adds to the legend of Saint Paul, and its notorious criminal history.
I love reading about this history. Thank you so much!
Absolutely! Thanks for reading!
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