An index card-sized piece of plain paper signed by Abraham Lincoln sold for $18,150 at RR Auctions on Thursday, more than doubling the pre-sale estimate.
While the autograph is of extremely high quality — one of around 20 graded PSA/DNA 10 since 2016 — the price initially would appear to be an overpay based on other similar examples, which trade hands for half the price.
Maybe the buyer had spotted something special about this piece that had gone unexplained. Whether they know it or not, the simple autograph represents a remarkable time capsule and a tie to history capable of stacking up against the best of them.
Its owner was there the night of Lincoln’s assassination in 1865.
First, let’s back up.
Accompanying the lot is a letter — unusual for an autograph of this sort. Dated Sept. 12, 1864, and sent from Lincoln’s secretary to a man named W.H. Demotte, it reads, “Herewith, I send you a number of the President’s autographs for the Indianapolis Sanitary Fair. He has been unable to find time to write more.”
The Indianapolis Sanitary Fair, which took place the following month, was one of many events of the sort held across the country to raise money for the Union war effort. Clearly, this autograph was meant to be sold at the fair as part of the fundraising efforts.
Already, the autograph gains value thanks to this tidbit, in addition to its designation as a signature from the time of Lincoln's presidency, which are coveted by presidential autograph collectors.
Most signed Lincoln pieces, featuring only his autograph and no inscription, on plain cards are quite rare, despite the large quantities of documents and letters featuring Lincoln’s signature. Generally, these were reserved for autograph collectors, often stored in binders, like one which accompanied a lot of other signatures of prominent Civil War figures and sold for $7,000 in 2016.
It’s the backstory of Demotte, an instructor at the Indiana School for the Deaf and Dumb and one of the last four living witnesses of the assassination, that changes everything.
“HE SAW LINCOLN SLAIN,” reads the headline of the obituary for the Indianapolis educator in 1910.
Demotte was eating dinner in Washington when he heard the newsboy come along and exclaim, "Evening Star, President Lincoln and General Grant will attend Ford's Theatre tonight.”
He and his compatriots were intrigued. Ulysses S. Grant had officially accepted the surrender of Robert E. Lee that same week and Lincoln was “an object of popular interest and admiration,” he wrote in an account of his experience shortly before his death in 1910, published later by his daughter.
Demotte describes a city intoxicated by the triumph of victory the previous Tuesday, as he joined a crowd outside the White House calling for Lincoln to come out to greet them. The president did, delivering a few remarks, after which Demotte saw Lincoln’s face for the final time.
“I still hold unspoiled by other sight, undimmed by lapse of years the image of that face ready to my call, so full of all that is noblest and best in human expression,” he recalled. “And so it is today that the name of Abraham Lincoln brings to my mind only a most pleasing face, full of life and of the attractive expression of a good and great mind and heart.”
Leaving his office at 8 p.m. on the fateful night, Demotte and his group walked across the street to Ford’s Theatre and purchased tickets. Admittedly, none of them were fans of the theatre.
Demotte says they had no interest in seeing “Our American Cousin." Instead, they were focused on the two men they knew to be in attendance. Two of the most famous men on the planet that day.
“We were closely occupied in watching for the president and General Grant,” Demotte recalled. “The box intended for them in easy view from where we sat, was draped in flags.”
Grant did not appear, much to the chagrin of Demotte. However, the orchestra signaled Lincoln’s arrival with a rendition of “Hail to the Chief,” after which point he took his seat in the box that would spell his downfall.
In his account of the assassination, Demotte wrote of a gunshot, followed by the emergence of a tall, dark man, dressed in black yelling, "Sic semper tyrannis," a Latin phrase for "thus always to tyrants.” He said he did not hear John Wilkes-Booth utter the oft-cited words, “The South is avenged.”
Through the chaos, a man sitting near Demotte commented, “That was Wilkes Booth. I saw him play here a few nights ago.”
Demotte said shortly after, “Men came out of the box along the aisle toward the steps and outer door carrying the apparently lifeless body of the President, denuded of the upper clothing, not only his face and neck exposed but his breast and arms. His coat or cloak was thrown loosely over his chest.“
Years later, a 1906 article in “The Indianapolis Star” wrote Demotte was so close to Lincoln’s lifeless body as it was carried out of the theatre, he could have “dipped [his] hands in the martyr’s blood.”
Now, one might ask, does this really matter to the value of the autograph? The quick answer is yes, in a world where autographs such as Lincoln’s are plentiful and seemingly comparable, a truly meaningful tale of background is everything.
Much like a tale of provenance for a signed piece of sports memorabilia — whether penned by an athlete during a significant event or to a famous person — collectors seek to differentiate among the crowded group of what appears to be identical options, willing to pay a premium for elements that go beyond the pen and paper.
Few events add more value to an item than an association with Lincoln’s assassination.
Indianapolis Colts owner Jim Irsay paid $262,500 for two tickets to the performance of "Our American Cousin" last year.
The record price for a Lincoln-signed card is $125,000 for a CDV, short for carte de visite — essentially an early trading card featuring Lincoln’s face. Similarly to the sale at RR, the CDV gained its added value from provenance dating the signature to just three weeks before his assassination.
The weight of the loss and the admiration Demotte held for Lincoln was abundantly clear, as decades after, he still recalled the event in the most tragic of terms.
“The core of the grief was that such a man should meet such a fate. The expression everywhere was as if each had suffered a great personal loss, the appearance as if a father, a guardian, a protector lay dead in every,” wrote Demotte in his account.
Will Stern is a reporter and editor for cllct.