Daniel Hoan is dead! The sad intelligence reaches me in my lonely mountain home, and the comrade from whom I receive it justly observes that his death should be noticed by the radical press throughout the world.
Daniel Hoan, in whose home at Waukesha, Wisconsin, our martyred colleague, Albert R. Parsons, found a safe and kindly refuge from the day he left my home at Geneva, Ills., until that fateful morning, six weeks later, when he voluntarily returned to Chicago and surrendered himself to his enemies. In the home of our old friend, his whereabouts a secret even from his devoted wife, our comrade enjoyed a brief season of complete repose.
Mr. Hone was, in a small way, a manufacturer of and dealer in well pumps, was in comfortable circumstances and was highly esteemed in the community for his honest simplicity and strength of character. Although not professing adherence to any school of social philosophy, he was radical in all his views; was at heart a Communist, and often expressed to me and others his longing for universal human brotherhood. It was to this good man, and to the beautiful town where he had his home, that Comrade Parsons, with a price upon his head and the bloodhounds of the law hot upon his trail, retreated in safety that memorable May morning when I grasped his hand on the dusty road that leads from the little village of which I was then a resident. It was from that safe harbor that he delivered himself to certain death on the morning of the opening of the great trial in Chicago.
Let us honor the memory of Daniel Hoan. Gladly he welcomed the outcast refugee; loyally he kept the secret of his identity. Let us remember that in a time which tried men's souls his sterling worth and loyal friendship were proof against the temptation of certain reward for the betrayal of our martyred comrade.