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Updated: May 21, 2025
Cleveland W. McDermott penned a death poem in the plane in which he and six others were crashed to death Saturday night was revealed here today. It is the story of perhaps the most remarkable premonition of death that ever has been recorded before the fatal flight. McDermott, who was a seasoned world-war veteran and accustomed to hazardous flights, wrote seven letters to as many friends.
Frank rose from his chair and stood by the chimney, regarding the Irishman as one might have viewed a performer in a play, realizing to the full what his mother had meant by the "charm of McDermott," for it was a thing none could deny, for the subtle Celt complimented the ones to whom he spoke by an approving and admiring attention, and conveyed the impression that the roads of his life had but led him to their feet.
A dozen union officials, headed by President Gompers, invaded his district to tell the electorate of his insults to organized labor. However, he was reelected, although with a reduced plurality over the preceding election. The only positive success was the election of McDermott of the commercial telegraphers' union in Chicago.
In the famous charge up the river, when we turned, I lost my horse, and in that backward plunge my life was not worth taking. While I was lying there half dead and helpless, this Dulany got from his old gray, flung me across his saddle, and carried me nine miles back to the camp. Judge if I love him!" Mr. McDermott looked from the window with the fixed gaze of one struggling with unshed tears.
She stood looking up at him, the folded yellow paper in her hand, driven by race instinct to fight in the open, to get into the enemy's country, especially if McDermott were the enemy. With an angry light in her eyes she called for a storm-cloak and demanded a cab, setting Nora and her remonstrances aside with abrupt decision.
It's a great gift that. The greatest knowledge of all is to know people, and it seems to be an instinct with you, Mr. Ravenel!" Again Katrine looked from one to the other, mystified, as Francis sat smiling under this flattery. "Shouldn't there be accompanying laurel wreaths with this unsolicited testimonial, Mr. McDermott?" he inquired, with a laugh.
He turned to the last stages of the construction of the great railroad. What fine comrades these hairy-breasted toilers made! Neale had admired them once; now he loved them. Every group seemed to contain a trio like that one he had known so well Casey, Shane, and McDermott. Then he divined that these men were all alike. They all toiled, swore, fought, drank, gambled.
Ravenel, at the times he has taken a drop too much, as your lady mother has been in the year past. I think you'll find him able to manage, for, in spite of his infirmity, black and white fall under his spell alike." "If Frank has a fault, Mr. McDermott, which I do not think he has, it's over-generosity. You need have no fear for your friend," Mrs.
Mebbe he ain't goin' to croak. But he'll shure hev to l'ave Roarin' City, an he'll shure be a cripple fer loife." McDermott looked at the empty glass. "That's all, Gineral. An' if it's jist the same to yez I'll hev another drink." The mere sight of Warren Neale had transformed life for Allie Lee.
For nearly a week after this she saw neither of them again, but her honest soul was fretted by the word she had given against a true friend; so, when she saw Dermott riding along the river-bank, she called to him from the rocks upon which she sat. "Dermott McDermott," she cried, "come here!" He rode through the ferns and undergrowth toward her, as she stood looking up at him with fearless eyes.
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