When we last looked in on Hallet Kilbourn, he was safely ensconced in the warden’s quarters of the D.C. jail, and was said to be “merry as a cricket.” The next few days did little to change this. While the Daily National Republican looked into the case and decided that no crime had been committed, a grand jury returned an indictment for failure to answer questions while under oath, keeping Kilbourne locked up. This generated another problem: Who was to pay for his incarceration, and, in particular, the food that he was getting. Kilbourn was being brought food from the House restaurant and the payment for this was coming from the contingent fund of the House, and the expenses were piling up. While some suggested that Kilbourn be reduced to bread and water, instead the sergeant at arms directed the warden to “furnish meals to Hallet Kilbourn […] at a cost not to exceed one dollar per day, and charge the same to the House of Representatives of the United States.”
The Star printed this letter on April 7, about three weeks after he had been incarcerated, and added
This order shows that the House committee have concluded that the only way to get rid of their elephant is to starve him to death; for a dollar’s worth of rations per diem for an elephant of the Kilbournian capacity is simply starvation. Freund, would probably supply for that sum a smell at a spring chicken, half a smell at a strawberry, a distant view of a plate of tomatoes, six or eight peas, and a cold potato.
As it turned out, Kilbourn was eating his way through the contingent fund at a rate of about 20 dollars a day – some 500 of today’s dollars. He was not entirely alone in this feat, however, as he would often invite friends over to share his repast.
While the reduction in allowance did stand, Kilbourn thereafter simply organized his own food. There was no fear of his going hungry. The final two weeks of his durance vile passed equally peacefully as the first three had.
In the end, it was a writ of habeas corpus that sprung Kilbourn, and he returned home. He was hardly out of the woods, however, as on July 28, none other than Belva Lockwood filed a case against him on behalf of House restaurateur Frederick Freund, demanding $393.20 for the meals served to him.
Kilbourn, in turn, sued the Speaker of the House of Representatives, the Sergeant-at-Arms, and members of the Real Estate Pool Committee. It took a number of attempts, but in the end, almost exactly nine years after his incarceration, Kilbourn was presented with a check for $21,000, representing $600 per day incarcerated, plus interest.
In the meantime, a play based on his time in jail was written and produced. Titled “Gargantua, the Nation’s Guest,” it was written by Ernest Harold and put on several times in D.C. theaters, drawing “immense houses” along the way.
Sadly, there was no happy ending to Kilbourn’s life. In 1898, he was brought before a marshal’s jury and adjudged to be of unsound mind. He was taken to St. Elizabeths, where he died five years later.