Take Edwin Thomas, for instance. Edwin Thomas Booth, that is. At age fifteen he debuted on the stage playing Tressel to his father's Richard III. Within a few short years he was playing the lead in Shakespearean tragedies throughout the United States and Europe. He was the Olivier of his time. He brought a spirit of tragedy that put him in a class by himself.

Edwin had a younger brother, John, who was also an actor. Although he could not compare with his older brother, he did give a memorable interpretation of Brutus in the 1863 production of Julius Caesar, by the New York Winter Garden Theater. Two years later, he performed his last role in a theater when he jumped from the box of a bloodied President Lincoln to the stage of Ford's Theater. John Wilkes Booth met the end he deserved. But his murderous life placed a stigma over the life of his brother Edwin.

An invisible asterisk now stood beside his name in the minds of the people. He was no longer Edwin Booth the consummate tragedian, but Edwin Booth the brother of the assassin. He retired from the stage to ponder the question why? Edwin Booth's life was a tragic accident simply because of his last name. The sensationalists wouldn't let him separate himself from the crime.

It is interesting to note that he carried a letter with him that could have vindicated him from the sibling attachment to John Wilkes Booth. It was a letter from General Adams Budeau, Chief Secretary to General Ulysses S. Grant, thanking him for a singular act of bravery.

Coincidentally, year's before the assaination, Lincoln's son, Robert Todd Lincoln had his own life saved by Edwin. As a young man, Robert Todd Lincoln stood waiting at a train station with a group of people. A train car lurched suddenly and Lincoln lost his footing. Edwin Booth grabbed Lincoln by his collar and pulled him to safety. Although Lincoln recognized the famous actor as he thanked him, it was years later before Booth knew the name of the boy whom he had saved.