THE ARREST AND EXECUTION OF CAPTAIN J. A. SLADE WITH A SHORT ACCOUNT OF
HIS PREVIOUS CAREER.
Some write him hero, some a very knave;
Curses and tears are mingled at his grave.--ANON.
J. A. Slade, or, as he was often called, Captain Slade, was raised
in Clinton County, Ill., and was a member of a highly respectable
family. He bore a good character for several years in that place. The
acts which have given so wide a celebrity to his name, were performed
especially on the Overland Line, of which he was, for years, an
official. Reference to these matters will be made in a subsequent part
of this chapter.
Captain J. A. Slade came to Virginia City in the Spring of 1863. He was
a man gifted with the power of making money, and, when free from the
influence of alcoholic stimulants, which seemed to reverse his nature,
and to change a kind hearted and intelligent gentleman into a reckless
demon, no man in the Territory had a greater faculty of attracting
the favorable notice of even strangers, and in spite of the wild
lawlessness which characterized his frequent spells of intoxication, he
had many, very many friends whom no commission of crime itself could
detach from his personal companionship. Another, and less desirable
class of friends were attracted by his very recklessness. There are
probably a thousand individuals in the West possessing a correct
knowledge of the leading incidents of a career that terminated at the
gallows, who still speak of Slade as a perfect gentleman, and who not
only lament his death, but talk in the highest terms of his character,
and pronounce his execution a murder. One way of accounting for the
diversity of opinion regarding Slade is sufficiently obvious. Those
who saw him in his natural state only, would pronounce him to be a
kind husband, a most hospitable host and a courteous gentleman. On the
contrary, those who met him when maddened with liquor and surrounded by
a gang of armed roughs, would pronounce him a fiend incarnate.
During the summer of 1863, he went to Milk River as a freighter.
For this business he was eminently qualified, and he made a great
deal of money. Unfortunately his habit of profuse expenditure was
uncontrollable, and at the time of his execution he was deeply in debt
almost everywhere.
After the execution of the five men, on the 14th of January, the
Vigilantes considered that their work was nearly ended. They had freed
the country from highwaymen and murderers to a great extent, and they
determined that, in the absence of the regular civil authority, they
would establish a People’s Court, where all offenders should be tried
by Judge and Jury. This was the nearest approach to social order
that the circumstances permitted, and, though strict legal authority
was wanting, yet the people were firmly determined to maintain its
efficiency, and to enforce its decrees. It may here be mentioned that
the overt act which was the last round on the fatal ladder leading
to the scaffold on which Slade perished, was the tearing in pieces
and stamping upon a writ of this court, followed by the arrest of the
Judge, Alex. Davis by authority of a presented Derringer, and with his
own hands.
J. A. Slade was himself, we have been informed, a Vigilanter; he openly
boasted of it, and said he knew all that they knew. He was never
accused, or even suspected of either murder or robbery, committed in
this Territory, (the latter crimes were never laid to his charge, in
any place;) but that he had killed several men in other localities, was
notorious, and his bad reputation in this respect was a most powerful
argument in determining his fate, when he was finally arrested for
the offense above mentioned. On returning from Milk River he became
more and more addicted to drinking; until at last, it was a common
feat for him and his friends to “take the town.” He and a couple of
his dependants might often be seen on one horse, galloping through the
streets, shouting and yelling, firing revolvers, etc. On many occasions
he would ride his horse into stores; break up bars; toss the scales
out of doors, and use most insulting language to parties present. Just
previous to the day of his arrest, he had given a fearful beating to
one of his followers; but such was his influence over them that the
man wept bitterly at the gallows, and begged for his life with all
his power. It had become quite common, when Slade was on a spree, for
the shop-keepers and citizens to close the stores and put out all
the lights; being fearful of some outrage at his hands. One store in
Nevada he never ventured to enter--that of the Lott brothers--as they
had taken care to let him know that any attempt of the kind would be
followed by his sudden death, and, though he often rode down there,
threatening to break in and raise ----, yet he never attempted to carry
his threat into execution. For his wanton destruction of goods and
furniture, he was always ready to pay, when sober if he had money; but
there were not a few who regarded payment as small satisfaction for the
outrage, and these men were his personal enemies.
From time to time, Slade received warnings from men that he well knew
would not deceive him, of the certain end of his conduct. There was not
a moment, for weeks previous to his arrest, in which the public did not
expect to hear of some bloody outrage. The dread of his very name, and
the presence of the armed band of hangers-on, who followed him alone
prevented a resistance, which must certainly have ended in the instant
murder or mutilation of the opposing party.
Slade was frequently arrested by order of the court whose organization
we have described, and had treated it with respect by paying one or
two fines, and promising to pay the rest when he had money; but in the
transaction that occurred at this crisis, he forgot even this caution,
and goaded by passion and the hatred of restraint, he sprang into the
embrace of death.
Slade had been drunk and “cutting up” all night. He and his companions
had made the town a perfect hell. In the morning, J. M. Fox, the
Sheriff, met him, arrested him, took him into court, and commenced
reading a warrant that he had for his arrest, by way of arraignment.
He became uncontrollably furious, and seizing the writ, he tore it
up, threw it on the ground and stamped upon it. The clicking of the
locks of his companions’ revolvers was instantly heard and a crisis
was expected. The Sheriff did not attempt his capture; but being at
least as prudent as he was valiant, he succumbed, leaving Slade the
master of the situation and the conqueror and ruler of the courts, law
and law-makers. This was a declaration of war, and was so accepted.
The Vigilance Committee now felt that the question of social order
and the preponderance of the law abiding citizens had then and there
to be decided. They knew the character of Slade, and they were well
aware that they must submit to his rule without murmur, or else that
he must be dealt with in such fashion as would prevent his being able
to wreak his vengeance on the Committee, who could never have hoped
to live in the Territory secure from outrage or death, and who could
never leave it without encountering his friends, whom his victory would
have emboldened and stimulated to a pitch that would have rendered them
reckless of consequences. The day previous, he had ridden into Dorris’
store, and on being requested to leave, he drew his revolver and
threatened to kill the gentleman who spoke to him. Another saloon he
had led his horse into, and buying a bottle of wine, he tried to make
the animal drink it. This was not considered an uncommon performance,
as he had often entered saloons, and commenced firing at the lamps,
causing a wild stampede.
A leading member of the committee met Slade, and informed him in the
quiet earnest manner of one who feels the importance of what he is
saying: “Slade, get your horse at once, and go home, or there will be
---- to pay.” Slade started and took a long look with his dark and
piercing eyes, at the gentleman--“what do you mean?” said he. “You
have no right to ask me what I mean,” was the quiet reply, “get your
horse at once, and remember what I tell you.” After a short pause
he promised to do so, and actually got into the saddle; but, being
still intoxicated, he began calling aloud to one after another of his
friends, and, at last seemed to have forgotten the warning he had
received and became again uproarious, shouting the name of a well known
prostitute in company with those of two men whom he considered heads of
the Committee, as a sort of challenge; perhaps, however as a simple act
of bravado. It seems probable that the intimation of personal danger
he had received had not been forgotten entirely; though fatally for
him, he took a foolish way of showing his remembrance of it. He sought
out Alexander Davis, the Judge of the Court, and drawing a cocked
Derringer, he presented it at his head, and told him that he should
hold him as a hostage for his own safety. As the Judge stood perfectly
quiet, and offered no resistance to his captor, no further outrage
followed on this score. Previous to this, on account of the critical
state of affairs, the Committee had met, and at last resolved to arrest
him. His execution had not been agreed upon, and, at that time, would
have been negatived, most assuredly. A messenger rode down to Nevada
to inform the leading men of what was on hand, as it was desirable to
show that there was a feeling of unanimity on the subject, all along
the gulch.
The miners turned out almost en masse, leaving their work and forming
in solid column, about six hundred strong, armed to the teeth, they
marched up to Virginia. The leader of the body well knew the temper
of his men, on the subject. He spurred on ahead of them, and hastily
calling a meeting of the Executive, he told them plainly that the
miners meant “business,” and that, if they came up, they would not
stand in the street to be shot down by Slade’s friends; but that they
would take him and hang him. The meeting was small, as the Virginia men
were loath to act at all. This momentous announcement of the feeling
of the Lower Town was made to a cluster of men, who were deliberating
behind a wagon, at the rear of a store on Main street, where the
Ohlinghouse stone building now stands.
The Committee were most unwilling to proceed to extremities. All the
duty they had ever performed seemed as nothing to the task before them;
but they had to decide, and that quickly. It was finally agreed that
if the whole body of the miners were of the opinion that he should
be hanged, that the Committee left it in their hands to deal with
him. Off, at hot speed, rode the leader of the Nevada men to join his
command.
Slade had found out what was intended, and the news sobered him
instantly. He went into P. S. Pfout’s store, where Davis was, and
apologized for his conduct, saying that he would take it all back.
The head of the column now wheeled into Wallace street and marched up
at quick time. Halting in front of the store, the executive officer
of the Committee stepped forward and arrested Slade, who was at once
informed of his doom, and inquiry was made as to whether he had any
business to settle. Several parties spoke to him on the subject; but
to all such inquiries he turned a deaf ear, being entirely absorbed in
the terrifying reflections on his own awful position. He never ceased
his entreaties for life, and to see his dear wife. The unfortunate lady
referred to, between whom and Slade there existed a warm affection,
was at this time living at their Ranch on the Madison. She was
possessed of considerable personal attractions; tall, well-formed, of
graceful carriage, pleasing manners, and was, withal, an accomplished
horse-woman.
A messenger from Slade rode at full speed to inform her of her
husband’s arrest. In an instant she was in the saddle, and with all the
energy that love and despair could lend to an ardent temperament and a
strong physique, she urged her fleet charger over the twelve miles of
rough and rocky ground that intervened between her and the object of
her passionate devotion.
Meanwhile a party of volunteers had made the necessary preparations
for the execution, in the valley traversed by the branch. Beneath the
site of Pfouts and Russell’s stone building there was a corral, the
gate-posts of which were strong and high. Across the top was laid a
beam, to which the rope was fastened, and a dry-goods box served for
the platform. To this place Slade was marched, surrounded by a guard,
composing the best armed and most numerous force that has ever appeared
in Montana Territory.
The doomed man had so exhausted himself by tears, prayers and
lamentations, that he had scarcely strength left to stand under the
fatal beam. He repeatedly exclaimed, “my God! my God! must I die? Oh,
my dear wife!”
On the return of the fatigue party, they encountered some friends of
Slade, staunch and reliable citizens and members of the Committee,
but who were personally attached to the condemned. On hearing of his
sentence, one of them, a stout-hearted man, pulled out his handkerchief
and walked away, weeping like a child. Slade still begged to see his
wife, most piteously, and it seemed hard to deny his request; but the
bloody consequences that were sure to follow the inevitable attempt
at a rescue, that her presence and entreaties would have certainly
incited, forbade the granting of his request. Several gentlemen
were sent for to see him, in his last moments, one of whom, (Judge
Davis) made a short address to the people; but in such low tones as
to be inaudible, save to a few in his immediate vicinity. One of his
friends, after exhausting his powers of entreaty, threw off his coat
and declared that the prisoner could not be hanged until he himself
was killed. A hundred guns were instantly leveled at him; whereupon he
turned and fled; but, being brought back, he was compelled to resume
his coat, and to give a promise of future peaceable demeanor.
Scarcely a leading man in Virginia could be found, though numbers of
the citizens joined the ranks of the guard when the arrest was made.
All lamented the stern necessity which dictated the execution.
Everything being ready, the command was given, “Men, do your duty,” and
the box being instantly slipped from beneath his feet, he died almost
instantaneously.
The body was cut down and carried to the Virginia Hotel, where, in
a darkened room, it was scarcely laid out, when the unfortunate
and bereaved companion of the deceased arrived, at headlong speed,
to find that all was over, and that she was a widow. Her grief and
heart-piercing cries were terrible evidences of the depth of her
attachment for her lost husband, and a considerable period elapsed
before she could regain the command of her excited feelings.
J. A. Slade was, during his connection with the Overland Stage Company,
frequently involved in quarrels which terminated fatally for his
antagonists. The first and most memorable of these was his encounter
with Jules, a station-keeper at Julesburg, on the Platte River. Between
the inhabitants, the emigrants and the stage people, there was a
constant feud, arising from quarrels about missing stock, alleged to
have been stolen by the settlers, which constantly resulted in personal
difficulties such as beating, shooting, stabbing, etc., and it was from
this cause that Slade became involved in a transaction which has become
inseparably associated with his name, and which has given a coloring
and tone to all descriptions of him, from the date of the occurrence to
the present day.
There have been so many versions of the affair, all of them differing
more or less in important particulars, that it has seemed impossible to
get at the exact truth; but the following account may be relied on as
substantially correct:
From over-landers and dwellers on the road, we learn that Jules was
himself a lawless and tyrannical man, taking such liberties with the
coach stock and carrying matters with so high a hand that the company
determined on giving the agency of the division to J. A. Slade. In a
business point of view, they were correct in their selection. The coach
went through at all hazards. It is not to be supposed that Jules would
submit to the authority of a new comer, or, indeed, of any man that
he could intimidate; and a very limited intercourse was sufficient
to increase the mutual dislike of the parties, so far as to occasion
an open rupture and bloodshed. Slade, it is said, had employed a man
discharged by Jules, which irritated the latter considerably; but the
overt act that brought matters to a crisis was the recovery by Slade
of a team “sequestrated” by Jules. Some state that there had been
a previous altercation between the two; but, whether this be true
or not, it appears certain that on the arrival of the coach, with
Slade as a passenger, Jules determined to arrest the team, then and
there; and that, finding Slade was equally determined on putting them
through, a few expletives were exchanged, and Jules fired his gun,
loaded with buck-shot, at Slade, who was unarmed at the time, wounding
him severely. At his death, Slade carried several of these shot in
his body. Slade went down the road, till he recovered of his wound.
Jules left the place, and in his travels never failed to let everybody
know that he would kill Slade, who, on his part, was not backward in
reciprocating such promises. At last, Slade got well; and, shortly
after, was informed that his enemy had been “corralled by the boys,”
whereupon he went to the place designated, and, tying him fast, shot
him to death by degrees. He also cut off his ears, and carried them in
his vest pocket for a long time.
One man declares that Slade went up to the ranch where he had heard
that Jules was and, “getting the drop on him,” that is to say, covering
him with his pistol before he was ready to defend himself, he said,
“Jules, I am going to kill you;” to which the other replied, “Well, I
suppose I am gone up; you’ve got me now;” and that Slade immediately
opened fire and killed him with his revolver.
The first story is the one almost universally believed in the West, and
the act is considered entirely justifiable by the wild Indian fighters
of the frontier. Had he simply killed Jules, he would have been
justified by the accepted western law of retaliation. The prolonged
agony and mutilation of his enemy, however, admit of no excuse.
While on the road, Slade ruled supreme. He would ride down to a
station, get into a quarrel, turn the house out of windows, and
maltreat the occupants most cruelly. The unfortunates had no means of
redress, and were compelled to recuperate as best they could. On one of
these occasions, it is said, he killed the father of the fine little
half-breed boy, Jemmy, whom he adopted, and who lived with his widow
after his execution. He was a gentle, well-behaved child, remarkable
for his beautiful, soft black eyes, and for his polite address.
Sometimes Slade acted as a lyncher. On one occasion, some emigrants
had their stock either lost or stolen, and told Slade, who happened to
visit their camp. He rode, with a single companion, to a ranch, the
owners of which he suspected, and opening the door, commenced firing at
them, killing three and wounding the fourth.
As for minor quarrels and shootings, it is absolutely certain that
a minute history of Slade’s life would be one long record of such
practices. He was feared a great deal more, generally, than the
Almighty, from Kearney, West. There was, it seems, something in his
bold recklessness, lavish generosity, and firm attachment to his
friends, whose quarrel he would back, everywhere and at any time, that
endeared him to the wild denizens of the prairie, and this personal
attachment it is that has cast a veil over his faults, so dark that his
friends could never see his real character, or believe their idol to be
a blood-stained desperado.
Stories of his hanging men, and of innumerable assaults, shootings,
stabbings and beatings, in which he was a principal actor, form part
of the legends of the stage line; nevertheless, such is the veneration
still cherished for him by many of the old stagers, that any insult
offered to his memory would be fearfully and quickly avenged. Whatever
he did to others, he was their friend, they say; and so they will say
and feel till the tomb closes over the last of his old friends and
comrades of the Overland.
It should be stated that Slade was, at the time of his coming West, a
fugitive from justice in Illinois, where he killed a man with whom he
had been quarreling. Finding his antagonist to be more than his match,
he ran away from him, and, in his flight, picking up a stone, he threw
it with such deadly aim and violence that it penetrated the skull of
his pursuer, over the eye, and killed him. Johnson, the Sheriff, who
pursued him for nearly four hundred miles, was in Virginia City not
long since, as we have been informed by persons who knew him well.
Such was Captain J. A. Slade, the idol of his followers, the terror of
his enemies and of all that were not within the charmed circle of his
dependents. In him, generosity and destructiveness, brutal lawlessness
and courteous kindness, firm friendship and volcanic outbreaks of fury,
were so mingled that he seems like one born out of date. He should have
lived in feudal times, and have been the comrade of the Front de Bœufs,
de Lacys, and Bois Guilberts, of days almost forgotten. In modern
times, he stands nearly alone.
The execution of Slade had a most wonderful effect upon society.
Henceforth, all knew that no one man could domineer or rule over the
community. Reason and civilization then drove brute force from Montana.
One of his principal friends wisely absconded, and so escaped sharing
his fate, which would have been a thing almost certain had he remained.
It has often been asked why Slade’s friends were permitted to go scot
free, seeing that they accompanied him in all his “raids,” and both
shared and defended his wild and lawless exploits. The answer is very
simple. The Vigilantes deplored the sad, but imperative necessity for
the making of one example. That, they knew, would be sufficient. They
were right in their judgment, and immovable in their purpose. Could it
but be made known how many lives were at their mercy, society would
wonder at the moderation that ruled in their counsels. Necessity was
the arbiter of these men’s fate. When the stern Goddess spoke not, the
doom was unpronounced, and the criminal remained at large. They acted
for the public good, and when examples were made, it was because the
safety of the community demanded a warning to the lawless and the
desperate, that might neither be despised nor soon forgotten.
The execution of the Road Agents of Plummer’s gang was the result of
the popular verdict and judgment against robbers and murderers. The
death of Slade was the protest of society on behalf of social order and
the rights of man.