The mob stopped suddenly, astounded at the unexpected opposition.  Out of hundreds of halls that had been raided during the past two years this was the first time the union men had attempted to defend themselves.  It had evidently been planned to stampede the entire contingent into the attack by having the secret committeemen take the lead from both ends and the middle.  But before this could happen the crowd, frightened at the shots started to scurry for cover.  Two men were seen carrying the limp figure of a soldier from the door of the hall.  When the volley started they dropped it and ran.  The soldier was a handsome young man, named Arthur McElfresh.  He was left lying in front of the hall with his feet on the curb and his head in the gutter.  The whole thing had been a matter of seconds.

“I Had No Business Being There”

Several men had been wounded.  A pool of blood was widening in front of the doorway.  A big man in officer’s uniform was seen to stagger away bent almost double and holding his hands over his abdomen.  “My God, I’m shot!” he had cried to the soldier beside him.  This was Warren O. Grimm; the other was his friend, Frank Van Gilder.  Grimm walked unassisted to the rear of a nearby soft drink place from whence he was taken to a hospital.  He died a short time afterwards.  Van Gilder swore on the witness stand that Grimm and himself were standing at the head of the columns of “unoffending paraders” when his friend was shot.  He stated that Grimm had been his life-long friend but admitted that when his “life-long friend” received his mortal wound that he (Van Gilder), instead of acting like a hero in no man’s land, had deserted him in precipitate haste.  Too many eye witnesses had seen Grimm stagger wounded from the doorway of the hall to suit the prosecution.  Van Gilder knew at which place Grimm had been shot but it was necessary that he be placed at a convenient distance from the hall.  It is reported on good authority that Grimm, just before he died in the hospital, confessed to a person at his bedside:  “It served me right, I had no business being there.”

A workingman, John Patterson, had come down town on Armistice Day with his three small children to watch the parade.  He was standing thirty-five feet from the door of the hall when the raid started.  On the witness stand Patterson told of being pushed out of the way by the rush before the shooting began.  He saw a couple of soldiers shot and saw Grimm stagger away from the doorway wounded in the abdomen.  The testimony of Dr. Bickford at the corner’s inquest under oath was as follows: 

“I spoke up and said I would lead if enough would follow, but before I could take the lead there were many ahead of me.  Someone next to me put his foot against the door and forced it open, after which a shower of bullets poured through the opening about us.”  Dr. Bickford is an A.E.F. man and one of the very few legionaires who dared to tell the truth about the shooting.  The Centralia business element has since tried repeatedly to ruin him.