The Assassins

John Wilkes Booth: Assassinated Pres. Abraham Lincoln on April 14th, 1865
“Let them curse me to hell, leave it for history to tell: what I did, I did well, and I did it for my country.
Let them cry, ‘Dirty traitor!’ They will understand it later. The country is not what it was.” [1]

Charles J. Guiteau: Assassinated Pres. James A. Garfield on July 2, 1881

“What a wonder is a gun! What a versatile invention! First of all when you’ve a gun…everybody pays
attention! When you think what must be done, think of all that it can do: remove a scoundrel, unite a
party, preserve the Union, promote the sales of my book. Insure my future, my niche in history, and then
the world will see that I am not a man to overlook!” [2]

Leon F. Czolgosz: Assassinated Pres. William McKinley on September 6th, 1901

“A gun kills many men before it’s done, hundreds, long before you shoot the gun: men in the mines and in
the steel mills, men at machines who die for what? Something to buy  a watch, a shoe, a gun, a “thing”
to make the bosses richer, but a gun claims many men before it’s done… Just one more.” [3]

Giuseppe Zangara: Attempted Assassination of Pres. Elect Franklin D. Roosevelt on February 15 th, 1933
“When I am a boy, no school. I work in a ditch. No chance. The smart and the rich ride by, don’t give no
glance. Ever since then, because of them, I have the sickness in the stomach, which is the way I make my
idea to go out and kill Roosevelt.” [4]

Lee Harvey Oswald: Assassination of Pres. John F. Kennedy on November 22, 1963
“Take a look, Lee. You know what that is? That’s America. The Land Where Any Kid Can Grow Up To Be
President…but in here, this is America too… Today we’re going to make a joyful noise. This is the big
one. You’re the big one. You’re the one that’s going to sum it all up and blow it all wide open… They’ll
hate you with a passion, Lee. Imagine people having passionate feelings about Lee Harvey Oswald.” [5]

Samuel Byck: Attempted Assassination of Pres. Richard Nixon on February 22nd, 1974
“We need to believe, to trust like little kids, that someone wants what’s best for us, that someone’s looking
out for us. That someone loves us. Do they? No. They lie to us!... And when we realize they’re lying,
really realize it in our gut, then we get scared. Then we get terrified. Like children waking in the dark, we
don’t know where we are…And then where are we? Who do we believe? What do we do? We do what we
have to do. We kill the president.” [6]

Lynnette “Squeaky” Fromme: Attempted Assassination of Pres. Gerald Ford on

September 5th, 1975
“I did it to make them listen to Charlie. I did it so there’s be a trial, and Charlie would get to be a
witness, and he’d be on TV, and he’d save the world!” [7]

Sarah Jane Moore: Attempted Assassination of Pres. Gerald Ford on September 22nd, 1975
“I did it so my friends would know where I was coming from. I did it so I’d know where I was coming
from. So I’d have someplace to come from, and someplace to go.” [8]

John Hinkley, Jr: Attempted Assassination of Pres. Ronald Reagan on March 30, 1981
“My dearest Jodie. I am humiliated, by my weakness and my impotence. But, Jodie, I can change. I’ll
prove to you that I can change. With one, brave, historic act I will win your love, now and for all eternity.
Love, John.” [9]
 Everybody’s Got the Right to Their Dreams
“Instead of portraying the assassins as aberrations on the fringe of society, Stephen Sondheim
and John Weidman saw them as victims of our society’s high expectations and false promises,
and disciples of a different American dream.” [10]

If I’m going to write a complex analysis of Assassins, I first have to preface by saying
that this is in my top three favorite shows of all time, only bested by Come From Away and
followed closely by Les Misérables. (It turns out I’m a huge fan of history shows.) I was
introduced to Assassins by my father, who played the Balladeer before I was born. I didn’t know
the show's context at all, singing Sondheim’s catchy lyrics about murder and guns around the
house at 12 years old. Only during the pandemic did I sit down and thoroughly listen to the
soundtrack for the first time. It changed my life and my perspective on equality, fairness, and
America’s role in the lives of its people. How can “The Land of The Free” claim that title if
one’s pursuit of happiness can have so many consequences for themselves alongside a whole
country? Weidman and Sondheim’s Assassins asks its audience to consider the American Dream
and to challenge the acceptable level of dedication a person can devote to their pursuit of
happiness and their right to pursue their dreams, no matter what they may be or what
consequences they might have for the rest of the country.

While the show has been revised and revived over the years, the following synopsis is of
the current licensed version of Assassins, the 2004 Broadway revival [11]. Assassins begins with
a calliope playing a waltz rendition of “Hail to the Chief.” The lights come up on a carnival
shooting gallery stating, “SHOOT A PREZ AND WIN A PRIZE.” One by one, various
characters enter the stage and are persuaded by the Proprietor that the solution to all their
problems is to “c’mere and kill a President.” As we learn these strangers are people who have
tried or succeeded in assassinating a president, they are given a gun and line up in front of their
respective targets. John Wilkes Booth is introduced as “our pioneer” and we watch as he fires at
the target of Abraham Lincoln and sings about his motivations. The Balladeer is also introduced;
he is a narrator and traveling musician, telling the stories of the assassins. The assassins' lives,
spanning centuries, converge in a temporal realm, often at a bar or shooting gallery. After Booth
“dies,” we are moved to the bar, where the Balladeer, the Proprietor, and John Wilkes Booth
convince various assassins to kill a president and solve their troubles. The narrative unfolds as a
series of vignettes portraying the build-up and execution of the assassins fulfilling their historical
destinies. However, Sondheim and Weidman introduce a twist: this story is not strictly
chronological, allowing the assassins to weave through time, sing duets, learn how to shoot, and
influence one another’s presidential targets. After all the depicted assassins have finished their
murderous duties, they come together at the carnival again and lament that they never received
the prizes the Proprietor promised them. The Balladeer tries to assuage the angry assassins that
there are other ways to be happy and fulfill their dreams, but the assassins force him off the
stage, taking over the narration of their own story. As they finish their ballad, “Another National
Anthem,” we see the characters start to build a familiar scene, the Texas School Book
Depository. The Balladeer once again steps onto the stage, but he has changed. The audience
recognizes him now as Lee Harvey Oswald. This is a man in pain who has come to commit
suicide. Booth steps out from the shadows and tries to convince Oswald that the only way to deal
with his pain is to make the entire country feel it alongside him and assassinate Kennedy, who
will be on the street below in mere minutes. When this fails, Booth calls upon the assassins of
past and future to convince Oswald that his one act will make a difference. Rallying together, the
assassins tell Oswald that he holds the power to worldwide grief and can inspire passion about a
forgotten nobody. At the finale of this heart-wrenching and deeply moving scene, Oswald uses a
rifle that Booth hands him and shoots out the window, killing President John F. Kennedy. As the
dark waltz version of “Hail to the Chief” plays slowly and painfully, the Zapruder film is
projected onto Oswald’s white tee. Slowly, a group of citizens from different and changing times
then walk onstage as Oswald leaves. They lament their president’s death and the impact it had on
their entire country. Finally, with Oswald among their ranks, the nine assassins once again
congregate at the carnival shooting gallery and sing that “everybody’s got the right to be happy”
before loading their guns, panning them across the audience, and finally opening fire into the air.

Assassins has seen various adaptations and productions, each with its unique
characteristics and receptions [12]. Initially, in the original 1990 Off-Broadway production, the
roles of the Balladeer and Oswald were portrayed by different actors; however, in the 2004
Broadway revival, they were combined into one character and played by Neil Patrick Harris.
Although the licensed script doesn't specify this change, many regional productions have
followed the revival’s example. The London production in 1992 introduced the citizens' lament
titled "Something Just Broke," which wasn't included in the published libretto. Sondheim added
this song after watching a video that “focused on the reactions of people after Kennedy was shot”
[13]. To Sondheim, “it became immediately clear that the missing song should deal with the
nation’s shock at each of the assassinationsnot just the news itself but the way the news was
spread, the chain of grief…What was missing was some musical expression of the outside
reality, the emotional impact of these irrational (or rational but misguided) acts on all of us
Bystanders” [14]. This production also received critical acclaim, receiving Olivier nominations
for Best New Musical, Best Actor in a Musical, and Best Direction, with Henry Goodman
winning for his portrayal of Charles Guiteau. The 2004 Broadway revival was originally
scheduled to open in 2001 but faced a significant delay due to its sensitive subject matter in the
wake of the September 11th terrorist attacks. Nonetheless, when it finally premiered, it was
highly successful, earning Tony Awards for Best Revival of a Musical, Best Direction, and Best
Featured Actor in a Musical, with Michael Cerveris winning for his portrayal of John Wilkes
Booth. Subsequent productions, including the 2014 Off-West End Production and the 2021 Off-
Broadway revival, received nominations for various awards but did not secure any wins. A less
significant but still powerful change to the show occurred in the 2017 New York City Center
Encores production. While the show ended normally with “Everybody’s Got the Right,” the
person who fired the final gunshot changed. In most (if not all) other productions, the assassins
are lined up at the edge of the stage and fire their guns in unison. In the NYCC Encores
production, the assassins sang the final note and pointed their guns at the back of the stage [15].
Simultaneously, a boy who was in the ensemble of the production walked onstage holding a gun.
Instead of the assassins, the boy accidentally fired the gun and recoiled. The assassins whipped
their heads around and then, blackout. Their production leaves a cliffhanger of the boy’s future,
foreshadowing a repeated theme that anybody may grow up to become the President or become
the President’s assassin.
 The Proprietor, The Balladeer, and The Country They Represent
“Listen to the stories. Hear it in the songs. Angry men don’t write the rules,
and guns don’t write the wrongs.” [16]

John Weidman and Stephen Sondheim wrote the book (script) and the music for
Assassins separately. In his book Look, I Made a Hat, Sondheim writes, “for some reason that
John and I recognized but still can’t articulate, I never asked to see the scenes as he was writing
and he never offered to show them to me” [17] There are no scenes that include the Proprietor
and the Balladeer. They sing and they play needed characters in the background, but their
characters are completely conceptual: they are not inside of the story (at least, not until the
Balladeer is pulled into the musical as Oswald). Sondheim alone created them for a reason, to
signify something. The Balladeer and the Proprietor are twin portrayals of America. They sing in
different keys, but they're preaching the same message: keep trying, get the prize, "work your
way to the head of the line” [18]. Scott Miller’s book, From Assassins to West Side Story, dives
into a complex analysis of these ambiguous characters.

“The Proprietor represents our country, a country run amok with violence, dissent, the
refusal to understand complicated issues, and the adulation of wackos… [he] is the
personification of this upside-down world of ours, where we give disturbed individuals guns
while we make sure they can’t achieve the rewards we’ve taught them to expect” [19]. The
Proprietor is manipulative, rageful, and seductive, preying on the assassins’ insecurities to get
them to do what he wants them to do. As the embodiment of America’s convoluted and
contradictory problems, he both hands the assassins their guns and hangs the assassins when they
kill. In the 2004 production, the Proprietor is the radio voice who announces presidential news,
Guiteau’s hangman, the voice of Reagan taunting Hinckley, and the man who first introduces
Booth [20]. His name suggests that he not only runs the carnival shooting gallery but has the
legal right and exclusive title to what the assassins can dream and achieve in America’s society.

In contrast, the Balladeer is the personification of the American Dream and exemplifies
the tradition of American folksinger storytelling. He sings songs with simple, rhyming lyrics that
pare down the full story to make it enjoyable and easy to listen to. “The Balladeer embodies an
intentionally shallow, oversimplified view of history…He represents everything that the
assassins hate about the country,” and he must be silenced [21]. He tries to simplify Booth’s
motives to a lost voice, booze, an overshadowing brother, and bad reviews. He tries to make the
deranged Charles Guiteau into an optimistic story where good overpowers evil, singing, “What if
you never got to be President? You’ll be remembered, look on the bright side!” as Guiteau walks
to the gallows and is hanged [22]. Another way of seeing the Balladeer is “as a metaphor for
American propaganda trying to sell us the “perfect country” and divert our attention from the
actual issues, the very issues that drove most of [the assassins] to the extreme” [23]. His constant
vagueness of what can be achieved in America and the beauty of the country during “Another
National Anthem” consistently tries to quiet and suppress the assassins’ reasons for their
attempted assassinations.

Moreover, an important change is made in many productions of Assassins after the 2004
revival through the Balladeer’s transformation into Lee Harvey Oswald. Miller writes, “The
Balladeer personifies the American storytelling tradition that passes on the stories of these
assassins and that in turn stimulates some of the assassins to commit their killings…The
Balladeer actually is the stories passed down through the generations and then becomes the
stories’ receptacle in the form of Lee Harvey Oswald” [24]. To compound on Miller’s point, the
Balladeer is also silenced and shoved off the stage by the assassins themselves: they don’t like
the way he’s been telling the story [25]. He’s been rejected by the assassins; he’s no longer
allowed to complete his purpose in the show. The assassins turn their back on the Balladeer’s
sunshiny and optimistic America by beating him up and turning him into one of them. In this
version, you can see how the Balladeer becomes Oswald, as both characters have experienced a
loss of purpose and struggle to reach an unattainable goal of being liked and accepted by
everyone.

Chronology and Temporal Realm

The order of assassination attempts in Assassins is quite different than the order in which
the real-life events transpired. While the musical does start with John Wilkes Booth, he is
followed by Giuseppe Zangara, Leon Czolgosz, John Hinkley, Jr., Charles J. Guiteau, Lynette
“Squeaky” Fromme and Sara Jane Moore, Samuel Byck, and finally, Lee Harvey Oswald. The
order was changed for a few reasons, primarily for entertainment purposes and to enhance
dramatic effect. First, in chronological order, the assassins' actions resulted in three deaths at the
beginning of the show, followed by only one failed attempt (Zangara) before Kennedy’s
assassination in 1963, and a series of four more failed attempts. To ensure the entertainment
quality of Assassins, it is likely that audiences would prefer a more even distribution of these
attempts throughout the show. Second, by saving Oswald’s attempt until the climax, the show
not only shocks and surprises audiences but also illuminates the reasoning for the show’s
temporal realm and emphasizes the musical's overarching purpose.

When reflecting on the choice to put Oswald last, Sondheim writes, “Originally we
intended to set the opening scene in the Texas School Book Depository in Dallas. The notion
was that Lee Harvey Oswald would arrive at work intending to kill himself, and that the
assassins would materialize out of the contents of his room, the depository ironically containing
history books giving accounts of the assassination attempts (inaccurate, as the assassins would
indignantly point out)…[we were persuaded] to save Oswald and the depository for the show’s
climax, and not to see them until then…when Oswald and the depository finally did appear over
an hour later, the audience gasped. They had been so absorbed with the other eight assassins that
they’d forgotten he even existed, and the immediacy of his presence in their own lifetime was
stunning” [26]. We have just watched the lives, motivations, and dark acts of these eight
assassins, so it’s even more powerful to watch the tensions of the show culminate at the end in
raw power and connectedness, rather than end on Hinkley’s sad, failed attempt at recognition. By
leaving Oswald for last, the audience watches a broken man be convinced that these eight broken
people are his family and that his actions will change the world.

By changing setting the show in a temporal realm, the assassins can co-mingle without
regard to the decades of time between them, allowing for Czolgosz and Hinkley to argue over the
worth of a broken bottle, Guiteau to teach Moore how to shoot a gun, and Booth to convince
Zangara that killing Franklin Roosevelt will fix his stomachache. “They taunt, they commiserate,
they laugh, they explain themselves with both pride and angst, and they engage in what can only
be termed very dark humor…they all gather over drinks at a bar” [27]. It is only in the Book
Depository that we realize why Weidman and Sondheim chose to remove this chronological
hindrance. In Miller’s words, “The Book Depository scene may be the most surreal scene in this
surreal show. Is it all happening in Oswald’s head? When Booth enters, he notices his watch isn’t
working. Of course it isn’t – time is not right in this scene. We see in Assassins that Booth and
Oswald live in all time periods – Booth visits other time periods and Oswald brings them all to
him. But these two men are the ones we all know. Maybe we’ve never heard of Sam Byck or
Giuseppe Zangara, but everyone knows Booth and Oswald. The show has crossed time periods
before this scene, but here all periods converge on one spot at one time – the moment before
Oswald shoots Kennedy. Lee has brought them together physically as well as spiritually” [28].
Most importantly, allowing all the assassins to gather in one place at one time enables the
bending of other rules simultaneously. Specifically, Oswald doesn’t enter the Book Depository
with the intent to kill JFK; however, with the assassins there to change his mind, the result is
historical. By bending the chronology and temporal space of the show, Sondheim and Weidman
can delve into the “what ifs” of history while keeping the historical frame relatively untouched.

Historical Accuracy

In adapting the stories of real-life assassins for the stage, “Assassins” takes creative
liberties with historical events to create an entertaining and compelling performance that
connects to the purpose of the play. While the stories of the assassins included are fairly
accurate, it's important to note that the show omits some historically significant assassination
attempts for the sake of length and cohesion. Assassins was written in 1990 and features only
nine of the thirteen assassins who fired shots in an attempt to kill the U.S. President before 1990.
I say “fired shots” because other assassination attempts were thwarted before the assassin had the
chance to fire and were not considered true assassination attempts in the context of Assassins.

On January 30th, 1835, Richard Lawrence attempted to shoot Andrew Jackson with two
pistols, both of which misfired. The president fought off Lawrence with his cane before the
assassin was apprehended [29]. Why wasn’t Lawrence’s attempt included in Assassins if it was
the first known assassination attempt of a president? Lawrence was certainly dramatic enough, as
he “displayed signs of mental instability and nursed a growing delusion that he was a long lost
heir to the British throne…and that "King Andrew" alone stood in the way of his claiming his
crown” as the “rightful King of England” [30]. Sondheim explains this absence in his book,
claiming “We omitted Richard Lawrence, whose attack on Andrew Jackson was the very first
attempt on a president’s life, but whose delusional motivation was similar to Charles Guiteau’s”
[31]. Weidman and Sondheim had to keep Guiteau in the musical, so they had to cut Lawrence
for dramatic diversity, as it would’ve been poor entertainment to include two similar characters. I
also believe that Weidman and Sondheim wanted to start the show with a bang, as it were, with
Booth’s success of Lincoln’s assassination. If they were trying to put forth that Booth “paved the
way for other madmen to make us pay,” then a failed attempt thirty years earlier would have
hindered the show’s pivotal message regarding the power of a gun [32].

Sondheim’s reasoning for the exclusion of the other three assassins was quite similar to
his reasoning for Lawrence. He writes, “We also chose not to include Oscar Collazo and Griselio
Torresola, the pair who tried to kill Harry Truman, because although like John Wilkes Booth
their motives were political, they were less complex psychologically and therefore less
interesting dramatically” [33]. Sondheim continues, “We did include the character of John
Schrank, one of the more bizarre of the lot, who tried to shoot Teddy Roosevelt. (He claimed
later that he’d been ordered to do so in a dream by President William McKinley, whom
Roosevelt succeeded when McKinley was assassinated.) However, we dropped Schrank during
rehearsals…[because] the scene was too lightweight for the rest of the show and dangerously
close to nothing more than a blackout sketch” [34].

Despite these liberties, Weidman and Sondheim do a commendable job of remaining

mostly faithful to history, capturing key facts alongside the essence and motivations of the
assassins themselves. For instance, in the opening number, the Proprietor names the guns as he
hands them to their respective assassins. Some quick Google searches will tell you that yes,
Czolgosz did use an “Iver-Johnson, .32. Rubber handle. Owls stamped on the sides” [35] and
yes, Oswald was handed a “Mannlicher-Carcano. 6.5 millimeter. Stopping range, nine hundred
yards” [36]. When Assassins is produced, the prop department often finds guns to use in the
performances that match the assassins’ historical weapons, as the guns are both an important and
historical facet of the story and the assassins’ identities. Moreover, real-life Oswald did mention
to a coworker that he had to buy curtain rods and, later, he brought them into the Book
Depository on the morning of November 21, 1963 [37]. Weidman uses this fact to his advantage,
as Booth turns those curtain rods into the rifle that Oswald uses in the assassination.
Additionally, if we remember that Oswald arrived at the Book Depository with the intent to
commit suicide in Assassins, the simple stage direction of Booth taking a match to Oswald’s
suicide note keeps the historical consistency of the musical.

In an interview with the New York Times, Sondheim says, “One of the things we would
like to emphasize is that the vast majority of the actual details of the show are true… there are so
many bizarre things" [38]. However, it is important to remember that the writer and composer do
not claim that the show is completely historical, nor do they want it to be. Part of the joy of
writing a show like Assassins is the ability to ask “what if,” to use history and the fun details as
evidence towards the purpose of the show, and then make sure the big historical events are as
correct as possible. Weidman and Sondheim interpret history, making it psychologically accurate
and focusing less on historical accuracy [39].

An Examination Into (some of) the Assassins

“Assassins suggests that while these individuals are, to say the least, peculiar – taken as a group
they are peculiarly American. And that behind the variety of motives which they articulated for
their murderous outbursts, they share a common purpose: a desperate desire to reconcile
intolerable feelings of impotence with an inflamed and malignant sense of entitlement” [40].

John Wilkes Booth:

While in the musical, Booth is heard yelling “Sic semper tyrannis” (Thus always to
tyrants), witnesses in the theatre and Booth himself remember other cries. “Most recalled
hearing Sic semper tyrannis! but others – including Booth himself – said he yelled only Sic
semper! Some did not recall Booth saying anything in Latin. There is similar uncertainty about
what Booth shouted next, in English: either "The South is avenged!", "Revenge for the South!",
or "The South shall be free!" Two witnesses remembered Booth's words as: "I have done it!"”
[41].
After begging the Balladeer to write down his reasoning and history, the musical depicts
Booth shooting himself in the head. It is also staged so that this scene feels immediately after the
assassination. However, both acts are fictional. Booth did find refuge in a Virginia barn after a
detour through Maryland, but only after 12 days [42]. As Assassins correctly depicts, Booth
wrote of Brutus’ attack on Caesar (as he mentions in various songs in the musical) in his journal,
and the barn was set on fire. Although the musical depicts a raw solo culminating in a suicide,
Booth was shot by Sergeant Boston Corbett and died later that day [43]. According to Lieutenant
Edward Doherty’s account of Booth’s capture, “He had on his person a diary, a large bowie
knife, two pistols, a compass, and a draft on Canada for 60 pounds” [44].
There are a few reasons why Sondheim and Weidman might’ve embellished certain
aspects of Booth’s death, including for character development and thematic throughlines. If
Booth is willing to kill himself for his convictions and dreams, then he is a much more terrifying
character for the audience to watch as he convinces others to follow in his footsteps. Moreover,
Booth’s pleas for the Balladeer to record his history begin the musical’s themes of historical
legacy, broken promises and consequences, and rebirth through storytelling after death.

Charles J. Guiteau
In Assassins, Charles Guiteau emerges as a character whose erratic behavior and
delusions of grandeur captivate and unsettle audiences. In “Gun Song,” Guiteau’s theatricality
and actions, such as pointing a cocked gun directly at the audience and his incessant promotion
of his book, underscore his unstable personality and obsession with his own perceived
significance. In fact, in a later verse of “Gun Song,” one production of the musical had Guiteau
hold out the note in “book” as long as he could, run offstage and into the audience, hand a copy
of his book to a member in the audience, and run back onstage [45]. (His book, The Truth: A
Companion to the Bible “was nothing more than a plagiarized version of a book written by the
Oneida leader Noyes” and sales failed miserably [46].) However, this portrayal of Guiteau in
Assassins is not embellished for dramatic effect. Charles Guiteau was insane, crazy, and
unpredictable, and people didn’t want to miss what might happen next.
Guiteau’s tumultuous life trajectory, from a troubled childhood to bizarre aspirations,
reinforces his character in Assassins [47]. Guiteau’s many roles included being an Oneida
community member, a lawyer, an abusive husband, an evangelical preacher, a debt collector, and
an insurance salesman. However, he fixated on politics, believing it to be his destiny after
surviving a shipwreck. With newfound confidence, Guiteau wrote an insignificant and largely
ignored speech for Ulysses Grant’s campaign (crossing out Grant’s name and replacing it with
Garfield’s when he won the nomination instead). His misguided conviction that his
inconsequential speech played a major part in Garfield’s presidency, he began to petition the
President and Secretary of State for an Ambassadorship to France. When he was consistently
rejected, Guiteau claimed that he received a message from God telling him to kill Garfield [48].
When Guiteau was proclaimed guilty, he stated that “God will avenge this outrage” and
promised “I am not guilty of the charge set forth in the indictment. It was God’s act and not
mine, and God will take care of it” [49] As he stood at the gallows, Guiteau read “I Am Going to
the Lordy,” a poem he requested to be accompanied by a full orchestra but was instead sung by
Guiteau himself. Sondheim keeps the melody and his reliance on God intact in “The Ballad of
Guiteau.” Assassins’ portrayal of Guiteau requires little embellishment, as his actual life and
personality are already inherently compelling. Audiences are left to grapple with the enigmatic
figure’s unsettling blend of humor, instability, and terror, mirroring the reactions of Americans in
1881.

Leon F. Czolgosz
One of my favorite facts about Leon Czolgosz is that McKinley was shot at the Temple of
Music by the Electric Tower (aka the Tower of Light) which was between the Fountain of
Abundance [50] and the Court of Lilies at the Great Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New
York [51, 52]. This fact is only second to Czolgosz’ admittance that the “F” in his name stood for
nothing, and he inserted it “because he liked the extra initial” [53]. Sondheim and Weidman’s
depiction of Czolgosz and his assassination of McKinley is one of the most historically accurate
attempts in Assassins. Just like in the musical, Czolgosz “had wrapped his right hand with a plain
handkerchief, as if he were injured. Underneath he gripped his revolver” [54]. After he waited
and “worked his way to the head of [McKinley’s handshake receiving] line,” Czolgosz shot the
President twice in the abdomen at point-blank range [55].
His political reasoning was accurate as well. “Czolgosz was an anarchist who said he
killed McKinley because he was the head of a corrupt government. His last words were, ‘I killed
the president because he was the enemy of the good people—the working people’” [56]. In fact,
Czolgosz’ line during “Another National Anthem” is a direct quote from the assassin; during his
confession, he stated. “I killed President McKinley because I done my duty. I didn’t believe one
man should have so much service, and another man should have none” [57]. In terms of
Czolgosz’ scene with Emma Goldman, some historians believe that the two never met while
others quote that they chatted for a few minutes after Goldman’s speech in Cleveland and she
gave him a few book recommendations [58]. There is no evidence that he confessed his love to
her, but according to Czolgosz, Goldman’s “doctrine that all rulers should be exterminated was
what set me to thinking, so that my head nearly split with the pain... and when I left the lecture I
had made up my mind that I would have to do something heroic for the cause I loved” [59]. We
watch as Czolgosz changes from an angry man who doesn’t know where to put his passion
(during the bottle monologue), to a man inspired by Emma Goldman’s anarchist speeches, and
finally to a man who understands that to avenge the poor, working class, he had to kill the
president with the very item that killed his brothers in the factory [60].

Giuseppe Zangara
Sondheim claims that “How I Saved Roosevelt” is shown in schools to teach about
F.D.R.’s assassination attempt, and with good reason. He writes, “There were in fact five
bystanders who claimed to take the actions described in the song” and while I cannot find the
testimonies for four out of five, there was one woman whose lyrics are directly from history [61].
Mrs. W.F. Cross said in an interview, “"So many stood up in front of me," she said, "that I
couldn't see, so I stood on one of the benches, and this man stood up with me. The bench
nearly folded up. I glanced up at him and saw he had a pistol. He began shooting toward Mr.
Roosevelt. I grabbed his arm and pushed it with all my strength into the air, and called for
help. A man named Tom Armour also grabbed his arm, and the next thing I knew some
other men had reached him and were choking him"” [62].
Moreover, the depiction of Zangara in Assassins accurately shows his motivations, anger,
and insanity. Zangara claimed his stomach pains made him want to kill the President [63]. He
showed no remorse for his attempt, as he deeply despised the rich, powerful, and capitalist
people who “oppress the working man” [64]. After his attempt, he was sentenced to 80 years in
jail. His response was “Oh, judge, don’t be stingy. Give me a hundred years” [65]. After being
retried and sentenced to death, he was upset that photographers were not allowed to film his
electrocution and yelled that only Capitalists get photographers [66]. The most interesting
addition to Assassins is Zangara’s last line in the electric chair. In the musical, he sings “Who
cares? Pull switch” [67]. His real-life final words? “Go ahead. Pusha the button” [68].

Samuel Byck
Sam Byck is one of history’s forgotten assassins, but Weidman’s writing and Sondheim’s
lyrics put Byck at the forefront of the assassins’ calls for justice and acknowledgment. “Byck
most represents the contemporary, average, working-class American. He is for some audience
members the assassin easiest to identify with. He's not acting against social injustice. He doesn’t
have the answers, but he knows the path America is on isn’t the right one…Listen closely and
you’ll see that Byck’s criticisms aren’t crazy, even though his solution may be” [69]. While none
of the assassins change costume, Byck is the only one forced to perform the entire musical in a
dirty Santa Claus suit. Why? “Byck protested outside the White House dressed as Santa Claus
and made tape-recordings of his rants, sending copies to the likes of Jonas Salk and his idol,
Leonard Bernstein” [70]. His two monologues in Assassins are inspired by his recordings: the
one sent to Bernstein and the one sent to Pres. Nixon. During his monologues, Byck realizes that
nobody in America is doing anything substantial to fix the nation. “Unlike many Americans who
object to the state of politics, Byck cannot just stand by and watch the country he loves crumble.
He has to take action…he asks who we should believe and what we can do” [71]. Unlike every
other assassin, Byck does not get a song telling his story because the reason for his kill is that he
doesn’t know what else he can do. He doesn’t have a statement to make, so audiences are left
with two stream-of-consciousness monologues until he tries to hijack the plane to fly into the
White House and kill Nixon. Afterwards, Byck becomes the voice of the assassins, leading
“Another National Anthem.” In this song, “the assassins onstage literally solicit the audience to
become assassins. Led by Byck, they tell us that they’ve tried the traditional American Dream…
and it doesn’t work. They’ve found a better American Dream, another national anthem” [72]. In
this way, Byck’s costume has even more significance. During the musical, Byck grumbles, “You
know why I did it? Because there isn’t any Santa Claus” [73]. The assassins see the American
Dream as silly as Santa Claus, built on dreams and, inevitably, unattainable and not real. There is
no prize unless they change the rules, create another national anthem, and find the answer to
changing America: killing the president.

The careful thought and detail of Byck’s character prove why he belongs in the show,
even though he is known for failure instead of success. First, Byck called his assassination plot
“Operation Pandora’s Box,” which is referenced at the climax of Assassins, when Booth tries to
convince Oswald that he carries the power to change the world [74, 75]. Even if Pandora’s Box
didn’t work for Byck, it will work for Oswald. Second, Byck first steps onstage in his “sweat-
marked” Santa suit and carrying a sign that reads “SANTA SAYS, ALL I WANT FOR
CHRISTMAS IS MY CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHT [OVER]” on the front and “TO
PEACEABLY PETITION MY GOVERNMENT FOR THE REDRESS OF MY
GRIEVANCES” on the back [76]. This is an exact replica of the sign that he used to picket the
White House on Christmas Eve in 1973 [77]. Third, Byck’s second monologue includes his
burger being thrown out the window of a car. As it hits another driver, Byck yells “Don’t blame
me, I’m from Massachusetts!” [78]. This is a reference to Nixon’s massive landslide victory in
1972, in which Nixon won every single state except for Massachusetts [79]. He yells as if the
driver’s honk blames him for the state of the world (instead of the hamburger on his dash) and he
claims that it isn’t his fault where the world is at, even though, just a few lines later, he admits
that he voted for Nixon. Fourth, the Sam Byck audio tapes show that he is very calm, coherent,
and clear, in direct contrast to Weidman’s portrayal of him. He clearly states his reasoning and
his plan, planning to “cleanse [the government] by fire” [80] Byck’s motivations were rational,
even if his actions were not. Finally (and this is contested evidence, but ironic to add), some
historians think that Richard Nixon wasn’t even at the White House at all during Byck’s attempt
[81].

Sondheim’s Music

It is almost a fact of law in musical theatre that Stephen Sondheim is basically the
Shakespeare of lyrics and composition. Every note, every line, every harmony is written with a
reason and a purpose. “We go into a Sondheim musical because we know he will say something
to us that makes the world and the people around us a little easier to comprehend…We come out
of Assassins realizing that people don’t fit neatly into categories and, more specifically, that these
people aren’t as different from us as we’d like to believe. It may make us more tolerant of the
people around us and may help us to understand ourselves a little better Best of all, while we
leave the theatre with these new insights into the human condition, we may also be humming
“Everybody’s Got the Right” [82]. I just want, very quickly, to point out some of the most
beautiful orchestrations and hidden beauties within his music and lyrics of Assassins.

Assassins spans almost 120 years through its various scenes and songs. While each
assassin (or the Balladeer) sings through their motivations and dreams, the music backing their
vocals is representative of the music of the time from which they come. More importantly, they
are all deeply American music styles, unless there is a good reason for them not to be. Sondheim
uses American musical themes to show that each of the killers are just as American as the
average citizen, subverting them later to show the twisted underbelly of what the American
Dream preaches. For example, the choral part of “Gun Song” is a barbershop quartet between
Booth, Czolgosz, Guiteau, and Moore. Guiteau sings to a cakewalk or a ragtime, dancing up and
down the stairs to his noose. Interestingly, in a cakewalk, the participants are looking or
competing for a prize; for the assassins, there is no prize. According to Sondheim, ““El Capitan,”
the Sousa march to which the Bystanders sing [in “How I Saved Roosevelt”], was the tune
playing when Roosevelt entered the park in his car” [83]. In the same song, Zangara sings an
Italian tarantella while sitting in the electric chair. “The switch back and forth between the
marches and the tarantella, both in 6/8 meter, differentiates the characters’ backgrounds” [84].
Sondheim then overlaps the two as the Bystanders and Zangara sing together, with Zangara’s
tune eventually complimenting the Sousa march’s rhythm. After all, Zangara is American
(“American nothing”) and he did what he thought he had to do to pursue his right to happiness

If you notice, there are only three ballads sung by the Balladeer: “The Ballad of Booth,”
“The Ballad of Guiteau,” and “The Ballad of Czolgosz.” These are the stories of the successful
assassins. Guiteau only sings words that he sang at his historical hanging, Booth only sings
words/sentiments found in his diary, Czolgosz doesn’t sing in his ballad at all. None of the
successful assassins sing their own story, they sing about their motivations or their purposes
while the Balladeer, the face of American propaganda and the American Dream, sing about
society’s view of the killers. He turns their reasonings into a story that he can sell as “anti-
American.” This can become even more symbolic if the production chooses to have the
Balladeer turn into Lee Harvey Oswald. Does this change symbolize that Oswald is the product
of the twisted and impossible American Dream or does it show that Oswald has to tell his own
story now? On the other hand, the failed assassins sing their own songs. If the Balladeer won’t
turn their attempt into a story or a song, then they will tell it themselves (the way they want to).

“Gun Song” is a metaphor within itself. A Youtuber put to words the meaning behind the
song better than I could. @Barbara 2.0 says, “It’s called “Gun Song” not because they’re singing
about guns, but because the song, the story, belongs to their gun. It’s such a destructive object
that, as soon as it’s made, or as soon as it belongs to someone, it claims them. Not only in the
sense of men dying in the making of it but also in the sense of [the assassins’ psychology and
behavior] being completely transformed by it. The gun takes control of the person who owns it
and of the narrative…[the Barbershop style of “Gun Song”] makes their appreciation for the
guns sound so romantic and utopic because, for a second, they do believe that these guns are
going to solve all their problems when, in reality, they don’t. If anything, they just cause more
problems” [86].

Assassins starts with the well-known song “Hail to the Chief,” but Sondheim has
transposed it so that it is now in 3/4 time instead of its normal 4/4 time. This gives us the first
simple, subtle clue that this show is not going to be what we expected. Again, Sondheim is taking
an American classic and changing it ever so slightly to show a darker meaning or accidental
effect lying just behind the trumpets and cymbals.

In “The Ballad of Booth,” Booth is so passionate and dedicated to his story, his message that
he wants the world to know, that the audience can’t help but listen and wonder if maybe there is
some substance to what he’s saying. Then he yells “n****r-lover” and it’s a huge moment where
you (the audience) remember what he did, who he is, who he’s fighting for, and you almost feel
ashamed for having listened. Booth says he gave his life for one act, begging the Balladeer to
“not let history rob [him] of its meaning” [87]. The Balladeer follows with “but traitors just get
jeers and boos, not visits to their graves. While Lincoln who got mixed reviews because of you,
John, now gets only raves” [88]. Booth’s act itself obliterated any meaning there could’ve been
in the assassination, and we feel guilty now for listening to his reasoning.

What is the Purpose of Assassins?

“If you can’t do what you want to, then you do the things you can.” [89]

A show like Assassins would never work as brilliantly as it does without heaps of
irreverent humor to dismantle everything America finds sacred, followed by the philosophical
hard-hitters, forcing the audience to be uncomfortable. I think that’s why this musical has stuck
with me for so long. When someone asks what Assassins is about, I say, “It’s about the people
who’ve tried or succeeded to kill a president, but by the end, you’re kind of rooting for them.”
You kind of want the assassins to get their dreams, because that means that the American Dream
is attainable. You see the reasonings and motivations behind their acts and realize, they kind of
have a point. Some people have the right to their dreams, but some people only have the right to
dream. People can work their entire lives to make their dreams come true and never actually get
there. You want to watch the assassins get there. Then you stop yourself and realize that you’re
actually rooting for murder, and murder of the President.

“By not imposing our moral point of view on the assassins, by not condemning them, by
allowing them to be triumphant, the show may make many people in the audience
uncomfortable. They want a final, reassuring statement: the assassins are bad. But Assassins isn’t
about good and bad.. It’s about hearing the other side of the story, getting closer to these
assassins than we normally would, standing in their world for ninety minutes…When the
assassins repeat the word “connect,” the audience should feel the power of their newly
acquired/regained self-respect, building each time the word is repeated, demanding respect from
the audience – the country – as well” [90].

Sondheim and Weidman wanted to say something about America with this show. They show
us America through the eyes of the Balladeer: bright and shiny and optimistic, believing that
anyone can do anything if they just work hard enough. Then, they show the people who’ve tried
that way. They’ve tried and they’re tired. We can’t reject them for trying to live how American
society has taught them. If you aren’t given the means and the tools to achieve your goals in life,
then you have to do what you think you must and physically can to make change and be
remembered. These assassins represent parts of us who want to change the world, to fix the
broken system. But we know that assassination is not the path towards positive change. This
show allows us to mourn for all the broken promises and unreachable dreams that America
provides and then realize that it is up to us, the audience, to change something. If we don’t want
to live like the Bystanders in “Something Just Broke,” then we must actively change the
American Dream to benefit and support the poor, the working class, the immigrants, the
underprivileged, and the broken. We need to do something different: if assassinations and guns
didn’t work before, why would it work now? You leave Assassins loving the strength of your
country, despite how troubled it has become, and you feel empowered to do something to change
it. If you can’t do what you want to, then you do the things you can (just don’t shoot anyone).

A Few Last Notes:

I read on a YouTube comment that after the January 6th Insurrection, Sondheim said all he could
hear was “Where’s my fucking prize” from “Another National Anthem.” I can’t find a credible
source, and I didn’t know where to put it in this paper, but I thought it was important to add
somewhere.

Original 1991 Off-Broadway Black and White VHS Recording of Assassins:

https://youtu.be/YRcdf9U_mww?si=fXI3Bkr8oZUHkUAq

Original 2004 Broadway Revival Recording of Assassins with Subtitles:

https://youtu.be/vS2a6XwpVHc?si=9aCvdCZe-cExkqvf