THE VIGILANTES OF '56
This execution naturally occasioned a great storm of indignation among
the erstwhile powerful adherents of the law. The ruling, aristocratic
class, the so-called chivalry, the best element of the city, had been
slapped deliberately in the face, and this by a lot of Yankee
shopkeepers. The Committee were stigmatized as stranglers. They ought to
be punished as murderers! They should be shot down as revolutionists! It
was realized, however, that the former customary street-shooting had
temporarily become unsafe. Otherwise there is no doubt that brawls would
have been more frequent than they were.
An undercurrent of confidence was apparent, however. The Law and Order
men had been surprised and overpowered. They had yielded only to
overwhelming odds. With the execution of Cora and Casey accomplished,
the Committee might be expected to disband. And when the Committee
disbanded, the law would have its innings. Its forces would then be
better organized and consolidated, its power assured. It could then
safely apprehend and bring to justice the ringleaders of this
undertaking. Many of the hotheads were in favor of using armed force to
take Coleman and his fellow-conspirators into custody. But calmer
spirits advised moderation for the present, until the time was more
ripe.
But to the surprise and indignation of these people, the Vigilantes
showed no intention of disbanding. Their activities extended and their
organization strengthened. The various military companies drilled daily
until they went through the manual with all the precision of regular
troops. The Committee's book remained opened, and by the end of the week
over seven thousand men had signed the roll. Loads of furniture and
various supplies stopped at the doors of headquarters and were carried
in by members of the organization. No non-member ever saw the inside of
the building while it was occupied by the Committee of Vigilance. So
cooking utensils, cot-beds, provisions, blankets, bulletin-boards, arms,
chairs and tables, field-guns, ammunition, and many other supplies
seemed to indicate a permanent occupation. Doorkeepers were always in
attendance, and sentinels patrolled in the streets and on the roof.
Every day the Executive Committee was in session for all of the daylight
hours. A blacklist was in preparation. Orders were issued for the
Vigilante police to arrest certain men and to warn certain others to
leave town immediately. A choice haul was made of the lesser lights of
the ward-heelers and chief politicians. A very good sample was the
notorious Yankee Sullivan, an ex-prize-fighter, ward-heeler, ballot-box
stuffer, and shoulder-striker. He, it will be remembered, was the man
who returned Casey as supervisor in a district where, as far as is
known, Casey was not a candidate and no one could be found who had voted
for him. This individual went to pieces completely shortly after his
arrest. He not only confessed the details of many of his own crimes but,
what was more important, disclosed valuable information as to others.
His testimony was important, not necessarily as final proof against
those whom he accused, but as indication of the need of thorough
investigation. Then without warning he committed suicide in his cell. On
investigation it turned out that he had been accustomed to from sixty
to eighty drinks of whiskey each day, and the sudden and complete
deprivation had unhinged his mind. Warned by this unforeseen
circumstance, the Committee henceforth issued regular rations of whiskey
to all its prisoners, a fact which is a striking commentary on the
character of the latter. It is to be noted, furthermore, that liquor of
all sorts was debarred from the deliberations of the Vigilantes
themselves.
Trials went briskly forward in due order, with counsel for defense and
ample opportunity to call witnesses. There were no more capital
punishments. It was made known that the Committee had set for itself a
rule that capital punishment would be inflicted by it only for crimes so
punishable by the regular law. But each outgoing ship took a crowd of
the banished. The majority of the first sweepings were low
thugs--"Sydney Ducks," hangers-on, and the worst class of criminals; but
a certain number were taken from what had been known as the city's best.
In the law courts these men would have been declared as white as the
driven snow; in fact, that had actually happened to some of them. But
they were plainly undesirable citizens. The Committee so decided and
bade them depart. Among the names of men who were prominent and
influential in the early history of the city, but who now were told to
leave, were Charles Duane, Woolley Kearny, William McLean, J.D.
Musgrave, Peter Wightman, James White, and Edward McGowan. Hundreds of
others left the city of their own accord. Terror spread among the
inhabitants of the underworld. Some of the minor offenders brought in by
the Vigilante police were turned over by the Executive Committee to the
regular law courts. It is significant that, whereas convictions had been
almost unknown up to this time, every one of these offenders was
promptly sentenced by those courts.
But though the underworld was more or less terrified, the upper grades
were only the further aroused. Many sincerely believed that this
movement was successful only because it was organized, that the people
of the city were scattered and powerless, that they needed only to be
organized to combat the forces of disorder. In pursuance of the belief
that the public at large needed merely to be called together loyally to
defend its institutions, a meeting was set for June 2, in Portsmouth
Square. Elaborate secret preparations, including the distribution of
armed men, were made to prevent interference. Such preparations were
useless. Immediately after the appearance of the notice the Committee of
Vigilance issued orders that the meeting was to be in no manner
discouraged or molested.
It was well attended. Enormous crowds gathered, not only in and around
the Square itself, but in balconies and windows and on housetops. It was
a very disrespectful crowd, evidently out for a good time. On the
platform within the Square stood or sat the owners of many of the city's
proud names. Among them were well-known speakers, men who had never
failed to hold and influence a crowd. But only a short distance away
little could be heard. It early became evident that, though there would
be no interference, the sentiment of the crowd was adverse. And what
must have been particularly maddening was that the sentiment was
good-humored. Colonel Edward Baker came forward to speak. The Colonel
was a man of great eloquence, so that in spite of his considerable lack
of scruples he had won his way to a picturesque popularity and fame. But
the crowd would have little of him this day, and an almost continuous
uproar drowned out his efforts. The usual catch phrases, such as
"liberty," "Constitution," "habeas corpus," "trial by jury," and
"freedom," occasionally became audible, but the people were not
interested. "See Cora's defender!" cried someone, voicing the general
suspicion that Baker had been one of the little gambler's hidden
counsel. "Cora!" "Ed. Baker!" "$10,000!" "Out of that, you old
reprobate!" He spoke ten minutes against the storm and then yielded,
red-faced and angry. Others tried but in vain. A Southerner, Benham,
inveighing passionately against the conditions of the city, in throwing
back his coat happened inadvertently to reveal the butt of a Colt
revolver. The bystanders immediately caught the point. "There's a pretty
Law and Order man!" they shouted. "Say, Benham, don't you know it's
against the law to go armed?"
"I carry this weapon," he cried, shaking his fist, "not as an instrument
to overthrow the law, but to uphold it."
Someone from a balcony nearby interrupted: "In other words, sir, you
break the law in order to uphold the law. What more are the Vigilantes
doing?"
The crowd went wild over this response. The confusion became worse.
Upholders of Law and Order thrust forward Judge Campbell in the hope
that his age and authority on the bench would command respect. He was
unable, however, to utter even two consecutive sentences.
"I once thought," he interrupted himself piteously, "that I was the free
citizen of a free country. But recent occurrences have convinced me that
I am a slave, more a slave than any on a Southern plantation, for they
know their masters, but I know not mine!"
But his auditors refused to be affected by pathos.
"Oh, yes you do," they informed him. "You know your masters as well as
anybody. Two of them were hanged the other day!"
Though this attempt at home to gain coherence failed, the partisans at
Sacramento had better luck. They collected, it was said, five hundred
men hailing from all quarters of the globe, but chiefly from the
Southeast and Texas. All of them were fire-eaters, reckless, and sure to
make trouble. Two pieces of artillery were reported coming down the
Sacramento to aid all prisoners, but especially Billy Mulligan. The
numbers were not in themselves formidable as opposed to the enrollment
of the Vigilance Committee, but it must be remembered that the city was
full of scattered warriors and of cowed members of the underworld
waiting only leaders and a rallying point. Even were the Vigilantes to
win in the long run, the material for a very pretty civil war was ready
to hand. Two hundred men were hastily put to filling gunnybags with sand
and to fortifying not only headquarters but the streets round about.
Cannon were mounted, breastworks were piled, and embrasures were cut. By
morning Fort Gunnybags, as headquarters was henceforth called, had come
into existence.
The fire-eaters arrived that night, but they were not five hundred
strong, as excited rumor had it. They disembarked, greeting the horde of
friends who had come to meet them, marched in a body to Fort Gunnybags,
looked it over, stuck their hands into their pockets, and walked
peacefully away to the nearest bar-rooms. This was the wisest move on
their part, for by now the disposition of the Vigilante men was so
complete that nothing short of regularly organized troops could
successfully have dislodged them.
Behind headquarters was a long shed and stable In which were to be found
at all hours saddle horses and artillery horses, saddled and bridled,
ready for instant use. Twenty-six pieces of artillery, most of them sent
in by captains of vessels in the harbor, were here parked. Other cannon
were mounted for the defense of the fort itself. Muskets, rifles, and
sabers had been accumulated. A portable barricade had been constructed
in the event of possible street fighting--a sort of wheeled framework
that could be transformed into litters or scaling-ladders at will. Mess
offices and kitchens were there that could feed a small army. Flags and
painted signs carrying the open eye that had been adopted as emblematic
of vigilance decorated the main room. A huge alarm bell had been mounted
upon the roof. Mattresses, beds, cots, and other furniture necessary to
accommodate whole companies on the premises themselves, had been
provided. A completely equipped armorers' shop and a hospital with all
supplies occupied the third story. The forces were divided into four
companies of artillery, one squadron and two troops of cavalry, four
regiments and thirty-two companies of infantry, besides the small but
very efficient police organization. A tap on the bell gathered these men
in an incredibly short space of time. Bancroft says that, as a rule,
within fifteen minutes of the first stroke seven-tenths of the entire
forces would be on hand ready for combat.
The Law and Order people recognized the strength of this organization
and realized that they must go at the matter in a more thorough manner.
They turned their attention to the politics of the structure, and here
they had every reason to hope for success. No matter how well organized
the Vigilantes might be or how thoroughly they might carry the
sympathies of the general public, there was no doubt that they were
acting in defiance of constituted law, and therefore were nothing less
than rebels. It was not only within the power, but it was also a duty,
of the Governor to declare the city in a condition of insurrection. When
he had done this, the state troops must put down the insurrection; and,
if they failed, then the Federal Government itself should be called on.
Looked at in this way, the small handful of disturbers, no matter how
well armed and disciplined, amounted to very little.
Naturally the Governor had first to be won over. Accordingly all the
important men of San Francisco took the steamer _Senator_ for Sacramento
where they met Judge Terry, of the Supreme Court of California, Volney
Howard, and others of the same ilk. No governor of Johnson's nature
could long withstand such pressure. He promised to issue the required
proclamation of insurrection as soon as it could be "legally proved"
that the Vigilance Committee had acted outside the law. The small fact
that it had already hanged two and deported a great many others, to say
nothing of taking physical possession of the city, meant little to these
legal minds.
In order that all things should be technically correct, then, Judge
Terry issued a writ of habeas corpus for William Mulligan and gave it
into the hands of Deputy Sheriff Harrison for service on the Committee.
It was expected that the Committee would deny the writ, which would
constitute legal defiance of the State. The Governor would then be
justified in issuing the proclamation. If the state troops proved
unwilling or inadequate, as might very well be, the plan was then to
call on the United States. The local representatives of the central
government were at that time General Wool commanding the military
department of California, and Captain David Farragut in command of the
navy-yard. Within their command was a force sufficient to subdue three
times the strength of the Vigilance Committee. William Tecumseh Sherman,
then in private life, had been appointed major-general of a division of
the state militia. As all this was strictly legal, the plan could not
possibly fail.
Harrison took the writ of habeas corpus and proceeded to San Francisco.
He presented himself at headquarters and offered his writ. Instead of
denying it, the Committee welcomed him cordially and invited him to make
a thorough search of the premises. Of course Harrison found nothing--the
Committee had seen to that--and departed. The scheme had failed. The
Committee had in no way denied his authority or his writ. But Harrison
saw clearly what had been expected of him. To Judge Terry he
unblushingly returned the writ endorsed "prevented from service by armed
men." For the sake of his cause, Harrison had lied. However, the whole
affair was now regarded as legal.
Johnson promptly issued his proclamation. The leaders, in high feather,
as promptly turned to the federal authorities for the assistance they
needed. As yet they did not ask for troops but only for weapons with
which to arm their own men. To their blank dismay General Wool refused
to furnish arms. He took the position that he had no right to do so
without orders from Washington. There is no doubt, however, that this
technical position cloaked the doughty warrior's real sympathies.
Colonel Baker and Volney Howard were instructed to wait on him. After a
somewhat lengthy conversation, they made the mistake of threatening him
with a report to Washington for refusing to uphold the law.
"I think, gentlemen," flashed back the veteran indignantly, "I know my
duty and in its performance dread no responsibility!" He promptly bowed
them out.
In the meantime the Executive Committee had been patiently working down
through its blacklist. It finally announced that after June 24 it would
consider no fresh cases, and a few days later it proclaimed an
adjournment parade on July 4. It considered its work completed and the
city safe.
It may be readily imagined that this peaceful outcome did not in the
least suit the more aristocratic members of the Law and Order party.
They were a haughty, individualistic, bold, forceful, sometimes charming
band of fire-eaters. In their opinion they had been deeply insulted.
They wanted reprisal and punishment.
When therefore the Committee set a definite day for disbanding, the
local authorities and upholders of law were distinctly disappointed.
They saw slipping away the last chance for a clash of arms that would
put these rebels in their places. There was some thought of arresting
the ringleaders, but the courts were by now so well terrorized that it
was by no means certain that justice as defined by the Law and Order
party could be accomplished. And even if conviction could be secured,
the representatives of the law found little satisfaction in ordinary
punishment. What they wanted was a fight.
General Sherman had resigned his command of the military forces in
disgust. In his stead was chosen General Volney Howard, a man typical of
his class, blinded by his prejudices and his passions, filled with a
sense of the importance of his caste, and without grasp of the broader
aspects of the situation. In the Committee's present attitude he saw not
the signs of a job well done, but indications of weakening, and he
considered this a propitious moment to show his power. In this attitude
he received enthusiastic backing from Judge Terry and his narrow
coterie. Terry was then judge of the Supreme Court; and a man more
unfitted for the position it would be difficult to find. A tall,
attractive, fire-eating Texan with a charming wife, he stood high in the
social life of the city. His temper was undisciplined and completely
governed his judgment. Intensely partisan and, as usual with his class,
touchy on the point of honor, he did precisely the wrong thing on every
occasion where cool decision was demanded.
It was so now. The Law and Order party persuaded Governor Johnson to
order a parade of state troops in the streets of San Francisco. The
argument used was that such a parade of legally organized forces would
overawe the citizens. The secret hope, however, which was well founded,
was that such a display would promote the desired conflict. This hope
they shared with Howard, after the Governor's orders had been obtained.
Howard's vanity jumped with his inclination. He consented to the plot. A
more ill-timed, idiotic maneuver, with the existing state of the public
mind, it would be impossible to imagine. Either we must consider Terry
and Howard weak-minded to the point of an inability to reason from cause
to effect, or we must ascribe to them more sinister motives.
By now the Law and Order forces had become numerically more formidable.
The lower element flocked to the colors through sheer fright. A certain
proportion of the organized remained in the ranks, though a majority had
resigned. There was, as is usual in a new community, a very large
contingent of wild, reckless young men without a care in the world, with
no possible interest in the rights and wrongs of the case, or, indeed,
in themselves. They were eager only for adventure and offered themselves
just as soon as the prospects for a real fight seemed good. Then, too,
they could always count on the five hundred Texans who had been
imported.
There were plenty of weapons with which to arm these partisans. Contrary
to all expectations, the Vigilance Committee had scrupulously refrained
from interfering with the state armories. All the muskets belonging to
the militia were in the armories and were available in different parts
of the city. In addition, the State, as a commonwealth, had a right to a
certain number of federal weapons stored in arsenals at Benicia. These
could be requisitioned in due form.
But at this point, it has been said, the legal minds of the party
conceived a bright plan. The muskets at Benicia on being requisitioned
would have to cross the bay in a vessel of some sort. Until the muskets
were actually delivered they were federal property. Now if the Vigilance
Committee were to confiscate the arms while on the transporting vessel,
and while still federal property, the act would be piracy; the
interceptors, pirates. The Law and Order people could legally call on
the federal forces, which would be compelled to respond. If the
Committee of Vigilance did not fall into this trap, then the Law and
Order people would have the muskets anyway.[7]
[7: Mr. H.H. Bancroft, in his _Popular Tribunals_, holds that no proof
of this plot exists.]
To carry out this plot they called in a saturnine, lank, drunken
individual whose name was Rube Maloney. Maloney picked out two men of
his own type as assistants. He stipulated only that plenty of
"refreshments" should be supplied. According to instructions Maloney was
to operate boldly and flagrantly in full daylight. But the refreshment
idea had been rather liberally interpreted. By six o'clock Rube had just
sense enough left to anchor off Pueblo Point. There all gave serious
attention to the rest of the refreshments, and finally rolled over to
sleep off the effects.
In the meantime news of the intended shipment had reached the
headquarters of the Vigilantes. The Executive Committee went into
immediate session. It was evident that the proposed disbanding would
have to be postponed. A discussion followed as to methods of procedure
to meet this new crisis. The Committee fell into the trap prepared for
it. Probably no one realized the legal status of the muskets, but
supposed them to belong already to the State. Marshal Doane was
instructed to capture them. He called to him the chief of the harbor
police. "Have you a small vessel ready for immediate service?" he asked
this man.
"Yes, a sloop, at the foot of this street."
"Be ready to sail in half an hour."
Doane then called to his assistance a quick-witted man named John
Durkee. This man had been a member of the regular city police until the
shooting of James King of William. At that time he had resigned his
position and joined the Vigilance police. He was loyal by nature, steady
in execution, and essentially quick-witted, qualities that stood
everybody in very good stead as will be shortly seen. He picked out
twelve reliable men to assist him, and set sail in the sloop.
For some hours he beat against the wind and the tide; but finally these
became so strong that he was forced to anchor in San Pablo Bay until
conditions had modified. Late in the afternoon he was again able to get
under way. Several of the tramps sailing about the bay were overhauled
and examined, but none proved to be the prize. About dark the breeze
died, leaving the little sloop barely under steerageway. A less
persistent man than Durkee would have anchored for the night, but Durkee
had received his instructions and intended to find the other sloop, and
it was he himself who first caught the loom of a shadow under Pueblo
Point.
He bore down and perceived it to be the sloop whose discovery he
desired. The twelve men boarded with a rush, but found themselves in
possession of an empty deck. The fumes of alcohol and the sound of
snoring guided the boarding-party to the object of their search and the
scene of their easy victory. Durkee transferred the muskets and
prisoners to his own craft; and returned to the California Street wharf
shortly after daylight. A messenger was dispatched to headquarters. He
returned with instructions to deliver the muskets but to turn loose the
prisoners. Durkee was somewhat astonished at the latter order but
complied.
"All right," he is reported to have said. "Now, you measly hounds,
you've got just about twenty-eight seconds to make yourselves as scarce
as your virtues."
Maloney and his crew wasted few of the twenty-eight seconds in starting,
but once out of sight they regained much of their bravado. A few drinks
restored them to normal, and enabled them to put a good face on the
report they now made to their employers. Maloney and his friends then
visited in turn all the saloons. The drunker they grew, the louder they
talked, reviling the Committee collectively and singly, bragging that
they would shoot at sight Coleman, Truett, Durkee, and several others
whom they named. They flourished weapons publicly, and otherwise became
obstreperous. The Committee decided that their influence was bad and
instructed Sterling Hopkins, with four others, to arrest the lot and
bring them in.
The news of this determination reached the offending parties. They
immediately fled to their masters like cur dogs. Their masters, who
included Terry, Bowie, and a few others, happened to be discussing the
situation in the office of Richard Ashe, a Texan. The crew burst into
this gathering very much scared, with a statement that a "thousand
stranglers" were at their heels. Hopkins, having left his small posse at
the foot of the stairs, knocked and entered the room. He was faced by
the muzzles of half a dozen pistols and told to get out of there.
Hopkins promptly obeyed.
If Terry had possessed the slightest degree of leadership he would have
seen that this was the worst of all moments to precipitate a crisis. The
forces of his own party were neither armed nor ready. But here, as in
all other important crises of his career, he was governed by the haughty
and headstrong passion of the moment.
Hopkins left his men on guard at the foot of the stairs, borrowed a
horse from a passer-by, and galloped to headquarters. There he was
instructed to return and stay on watch, and was told that reinforcements
would soon follow. He arrived before the building in which Ashe's office
was located in time to see Maloney, Terry, Ashe, McNabb, Bowie, and
Rowe, all armed with shot-guns, just turning a far corner. He dismounted
and called on his men, who followed. The little posse dogged the
judge's party for some distance. For a little time no attention was paid
to them, but as they pressed closer, Terry, Ashe, and Maloney turned and
presented their shot-guns. This was probably intended only as a threat,
but Hopkins, who was always overbold, lunged at Maloney. Terry thrust
his gun at a Vigilante who seized it by the barrel. At the same instant
Ashe pressed the muzzle of his weapon against the breast of a man named
Bovee, but hesitated to pull the trigger. It was not at that time as
safe to shoot men in the open street as it had been formerly. Barry
covered Rowe with a pistol. Rowe dropped his gun and ran towards the
armory. The accidental discharge of a pistol seemed to unnerve Terry. He
whipped out a long knife and plunged it into Hopkins's neck. Hopkins
relaxed his hold on Terry's shot-gun and staggered back.
"I am stabbed! Take them, Vigilantes!" he said.
He dropped to the sidewalk. Terry and his friends ran towards the
armory. Of the Vigilante posse only Bovee and Barry remained, but these
two pursued the fleeing Law and Order men to the very doors of the
armory itself. When the portals were slammed in their faces they took
up their stand outside; and alone these two men held imprisoned several
hundred men! During the next few minutes several men attempted entrance
to the armory, among them our old friend Volney Howard. All were turned
back and were given the impression that the armory was already in
charge of the Vigilantes. After a little, however, doubtless to the
great relief of the "outside garrison" of the armory, the great
Vigilante bell began to boom out its signals: _one, two, three_--rest;
_one, two, three_--rest; and so on.
Instantly the streets were alive with men. Merchants left their
customers, clerks their books, mechanics their tools. Draymen stripped
their horses of harness, abandoned their wagons, and rode away to join
their cavalry. Within an incredibly brief space of time everybody was
off for the armory, the military companies marching like veterans, the
artillery rumbling over the pavement. The cavalry, jogging along at a
slow trot, covered the rear. A huge and roaring mob accompanied them,
followed them, raced up the side-streets to arrive at the armory at the
same time as the first files of the military force. They found the
square before the building entirely deserted except for the dauntless
Barry and Bovee, who still marched up and down singlehanded, holding the
garrison within. They were able to report that no one had either entered
or left the armory.
Inside the building the spirit had become one of stubborn sullenness.
Terry was very sorry--as, indeed, he well might be--a Judge of the
Supreme Court, who had no business being in San Francisco at all. Sworn
to uphold the law, and ostensibly on the side of the Law and Order
party, he had stepped out from his jurisdiction to commit as lawless and
as idiotic a deed of passion and prejudice as could well have been
imagined. Whatever chances the Law and Order party might have had
heretofore were thereby dissipated. Their troops were scattered in small
units; their rank and file had disappeared no one knew where; their
enemies were fully organized and had been mustered by the alarm bell to
their usual alertness and capability; and Terry's was the hand that had
struck the bell!
He was reported as much chagrined.
"This is very unfortunate, very unfortunate," he said; "but you shall
not imperil your lives for me. It is I they want. I will surrender to
them."
Instead of the prompt expostulations which he probably expected, a dead
silence greeted these words.
"There is nothing else to do," agreed Ashe at last.
An exchange of notes in military fashion followed. Ashe, as commander of
the armory and leader of the besieged party, offered to surrender to the
Executive Committee of the Vigilantes if protected from violence. The
Executive Committee demanded the surrender of Terry, Maloney, and
Philips, as well as of all arms and ammunition, promising that Terry and
Maloney should be protected against persons outside the organization. On
receiving this assurance, Ashe threw open the doors of the armory and
the Vigilantes marched in.
"All present were disarmed," writes Bancroft. "Terry and Maloney were
taken charge of and the armory was quickly swept of its contents. Three
hundred muskets and other munitions of war were carried out and placed
on drays. Two carriages then drove up, in one of which was placed
Maloney and in the other Terry. Both were attended by a strong escort,
Olney forming round them with his Citizens' Guard, increased to a
battalion. Then in triumph the Committee men, with their prisoners and
plunder enclosed in a solid body of infantry and these again surrounded
by cavalry, marched back to their rooms."
Nor was this all. Coleman, like a wise general, realizing that
compromise was no longer possible, sent out his men to take possession
of all the encampments of the Law and Order forces. The four big
armories were cleaned out while smaller squads of men combed the city
house by house for concealed arms. By midnight the job was done. The
Vigilantes were in control of the situation.