I trust that you will, on receipt of this, give us the desired
information above asked for, as there is no favor within your power
that you could at this time extend to us that would be received with so
much gratitude.
When addressing your communication, you will please remember not to
direct to me, but simply address your letter to box, No. 27, DeKalb,
Kemper County, Mississippi.
I make the above request in order that my designs may not be
frustrated—also, you will please suffer no person to see this
communication.
Hoping to hear from you soon, I remain,
Very respectfully,
JOHN R. GARLAND.
This extraordinary letter elicited the following reply:
AUGUSTA, MISSISSIPPI, ——, 1858.
_John R. Garland, DeKalb, Miss._:
DEAR SIR—I am in receipt of yours bearing a recent date, asking me for
information relative to certain characters within your vicinity. Giving
three names, you wish to know if they are the same persons who were
implicated by Copeland in his confession to me.
In answer, at the time of writing the confession, I could have located
all the parties given me as members belonging to the Wages and Copeland
clan, but did not at the time deem it expedient to do so, because
believing that the people in the different sections of the country
wherever they might live would be very apt to know them from their
general character. But from the description you give of S. S. Shoemake,
and from one memorable remark that Copeland made at the time he gave me
this name, I am constrained to favor the opinion that he is the same
person as both he and yourself have pointed out.
Very respectfully,
J. R. S. PITTS.
SHOEMAKE VISITS THE SHERIFF IN PERSON WITH HIS BOGUS AUTHORITY FROM THE
PROBATE JUDGE OF KEMPER COUNTY.
But a short time intervened after the correspondence until Shoemake
himself suddenly made his appearance in person at the door of the
parlor in which the sheriff at the time was engaged in reading. In
reaching so far, Shoemake had passed the outer gate, fronting the
street, unnoticed by the watch-dog, or by any of Hon. Drewry Bynum’s
family with whom the sheriff was boarding. Shoemake boldly opened the
parlor door, and, after a graceful and dignified salutation, next
inquired if the sheriff was present. Being answered in the affirmative,
he was then invited to walk in and take a seat, for which he returned
the usual compliments of civility. His next expressed wish was to
retire to the sheriff’s office, which was situated within a few paces
of the dwelling-house—all enclosed within the same yard, as he had
communications to make on official business. Both retired accordingly,
when, as soon as properly seated, Shoemake drew from his breast-pocket
a large document, written in a beautiful style and evidently prepared
with great care and taste. This instrument of writing was produced to
show his authority from the Probate Judge of Kemper county to pursue
and apprehend a certain person named and described, for stealing eleven
negroes belonging to minor heirs of said county. This instrument
of authority was soon detected as counterfeit—not having the legal
impress—the court seal of the county from which it pretended to have
emanated. This fact, in connection with the introduction of his own
name, very properly put the Sheriff on his guard as to subsequent
movements which were to follow. Shoemake continued to the effect that
the thief, from the direction in which he had been traveling, would
be more than likely to cross at the junction of Bowie creek with Leaf
river, which is situated about twenty miles above Augusta. Shoemake
further added his belief that the thief was making for some point on
the seashore at or near Mississippi City, and that he had called on the
Sheriff to accompany and assist him in the capture. To this application
the Sheriff peremptorily refused, remarking at the same time that the
Probate Court was then in session, and that he could not be absent for
the period of time necessarily required in a task of this sort without
material injury to business transactions and the duties of his office.
To this unqualified refusal Shoemake sat for a moment in a silent
pause. If the Sheriff himself could not accompany him, he had no desire
to have any of the deputies with him.
Appearing very much disappointed in this object to decoy off the
Sheriff, and feeling satisfied that all further attempts in this
direction would prove abortive, he all at once exhibited a different
phase of countenance, and in a jocular manner slapped the Sheriff on
the knee, remarking at the same time, “How or where did you get my
name associated with the Copeland Clan?” The Sheriff answered, “Why,
my dear sir, do you acknowledge the name as recorded in Copeland’s
confessions as belonging to you?” Shoemake made no direct reply, but
observed that the people about where he lived were endeavoring to
saddle the reflections on him, and that the same was having a very
deleterious effect against him. This being so, he requested of the
Sheriff, as an act of favor or kindness, to have his name erased, or
disposed of in some other way, such as would remove the odium attached,
and that he believed the Sheriff to have the power to do all this with
propriety. The Sheriff was a little startled as well as excited at such
an absurd proposition, and quickly replied to the following effect:
“Your requested favor cannot be performed. The matter has altogether
passed out of my hands, and it is utterly beyond my control to make any
changes. I have only given publicity to the confessions of Copeland,
and if he has wrongfully implicated any one the remedy is by an action
of law, or better still, by a counter statement supported by the
testimony of those whose veracity cannot be doubted.”
Shoemake, discomfitted in his own case on this point, then referred
to a correspondence betwixt himself, George A. Cleaveland and others,
all of whom were implicated in the pamphlet complained of, and said,
from all the information he could gather, unless something was done to
relieve the complainants the Sheriff would be sure to have more or less
trouble from that quarter. The reply made was pretty much to the same
effect as in his own individual case—no hope of success as far as the
Sheriff was concerned.
The next question brought forward was an inquiry about a communication
from some one at DeKalb, Miss., concerning himself. He was answered
in the affirmative to the effect that such a communication had been
received. “Very well,” said he, “will you be so kind as to let me see
it?”
“I cannot,” replied the Sheriff, “and for this reason, that the author
of it made a special request not to let any person see it; consequently
I cannot without a breach of good faith, do violence to the request
made and involve myself in difficulties, when all can be so easily
avoided.” This reply did not satisfy him. He again solicitously pressed
for inspection, urging that some d—d rascal had been writing about him,
and that he believed it was one by the name of White. He was informed
immediately that no person by that name had ever sent any communication
whatever, and that he was certainly laboring under wrong impressions in
this particular.
He utterly failed to get to see the communication in every effort made
for this purpose. The effects were visibly marked on his countenance.
Rage and anger, despair and disappointment, with all other of defeated
passions, seemed to flit over him in rapid succession; but without any
representation in words—only rising with a farewell, such as appeared
to the Sheriff ominous of something else, and anything but pleasant
in his judgment. After leaving the office he remained in Augusta but
a very short time, and when about leaving the place altogether he was
heard to say that he would some day meet the Sheriff “at the hatter’s
shop.”
SHOEMAKE RETURNS WITH A WRIT FOR THE SHERIFF’S ARREST.
For some five or six weeks after his departure the Sheriff heard
nothing more of him; at the expiration of which time he returned in
company with a man by the name of Gilbert, though in reality supposed
to be one of the Copeland family. This time he bore a requisition from
the Governor of Alabama to the Governor of Mississippi for the body of
the Sheriff; and strange, and to this day mysterious as it may appear,
the requisition was granted.
Some few days previous to the arrival of Shoemake and his assistant,
the Sheriff had left Augusta for the Mississippi Sound on a journey to
make arrangements for hymenial considerations. Learning the facts of
his absence, they set about gathering all the information they could
from negroes and the less suspecting class of others relative to his
whereabouts and the anticipated time for his return. Having got the
information wanted, forthwith they started in pursuit—traveling the
same way by which he was compelled to return to Augusta. It is called
the Mississippi Cut Road—better known by the name of the Allsberry
and McRae railroad. It runs on range line eight, from Augusta to
Mississippi City—all the timber on this line being cut and cleared
away some thirty-five years ago. It failed of completion, it is said,
through the dishonesty of one or more on whom the responsibility
devolved; and the only relic now remaining is a good dirt road, for the
benefit of the present traveling community.
On this road, not a great distance from Red Creek, there is an
extensive morass, which has been cross-wayed for public accommodation,
which otherwise would be impassable on horseback. When Shoemake and
his assistant arrived at this place they remained, according to the
statements of persons in the neighborhood, one or two days in ambush,
stationing themselves one on each side of the cross-way, evidently
with a design to prevent the Sheriff from seeing either until he had
advanced some distance on it, then to close in upon him from both
directions, which would have prevented any earthly chance of escape by
any other way—the morass is of such a nature as to swallow up in any
other part.
[Illustration: AUTHOR MAKING HIS ESCAPE FROM TWO OF THE COPELAND
CLAN.—[See Page 135.]
At last becoming impatient, they decided to move on toward the Gulf;
and, accordingly, stopped at Red Creek for the night following.
But, let it be borne in mind, that they so arranged as to remain at
different houses, one on the north, and the other on the south side of
the creek, so as to be certain not to miss the Sheriff on his return by
that way. The houses where they stopped at for the night were near the
ferry—kept for the accommodation of travelers. If the Sheriff had left
the coast that morning, as anticipated by the two, he, according to the
day’s ride, would have been almost certain to have reached one of the
houses here referred to, as no other suitable place near could have
been found, which would have brought him in direct contact with the
pursuers. But by being detained that morning at Mississippi City, he
did not leave in time to reach either place where they were staying,
and he of necessity stopped the night in question with an old gentleman
by the name of Byrd—about fifteen or twenty miles from the ferry. This
old gentleman had been a resident of that section of country for a
great number of years, and was well acquainted with Wages and McGrath;
also with the truth of many of the incidents as related in Copeland’s
confessions.
After the usual breakfast hour next morning, the Sheriff availed
himself of the earliest opportunity to resume his travel toward
Augusta. On his way, some ten or fifteen miles distant from where
he that morning started, to his great surprise, he suddenly came in
contact with Shoemake and his colleague. They were seated within a
one-horse buggy, with another very fine animal fastened to it, and with
saddle and other necessaries ready for the rider in case any emergency
might occur. They all met together on the top of a little hill, quite
steep, with such other circumstances attending as obstructed sight
until in quite close contact. The place of meeting was not more than
fifty paces from an occupied dwelling house. This fact was, no doubt,
the main cause of preventing them from making, perhaps, a fatal attack.
The meeting was as of perfect strangers, though, in reality, each side
knew the other again. The Sheriff well knew Shoemake, and, from his
uneasy countenance, as well as the countenance of the other with him,
the Sheriff was satisfied that they knew him.
He having passed, as he thought, a sufficient distance beyond their
view, he increased the speed of his horse to a rate of about eight or
nine miles an hour for the remainder of the day, which carried him some
fifty miles or more from the spot of meeting. He was fully impressed
with the idea, at the time of meeting, that they were in pursuit of
him for evil and dangerous purposes, which idea was fully confirmed by
information gathered that day on travel as to their very suspicious
conduct at different points of progress; however, in his heart, he was
thankful that he had so far made his escape. His rapid travel onwards
for that day was lonely indeed—passing through a wild, desolate region
of country, but very sparsely populated—for miles not a human being
to be seen; stock in abundance on either side of the road, with here
and there frightened deer at seeing him, as it were, flying through
space for safety and repose. Night fast coming on, with exhausted
fatigue from excessive exercise, and beginning to despair of reaching
home that night, he resolved on going to the house of a well-known
friend, J. T. Breeland, situated a distance from the highway, and had
to be approached with the convenience of a by-path. He succeeded in
reaching this house in time for late supper. Here he met with all the
accommodations that heart could desire. Luxuries plenty, conversation
agreeable, with a welcomeness which must ever be appreciated, and
more than this, consolation afforded when most needed. The next was
retirement for sleep, but little of sound repose was enjoyed; the
ghastly scenes of the clan were before his eyes, with struggles for
existence betwixt him and his pursuers.
Early next morning, an ample breakfast having been supplied, he, after
having received many kindly admonitions from his friend by way of
strict caution, left, and reached home, Augusta, about ten o’clock next
morning; and about twelve o’clock, only two hours later, Shoemake, with
his colleague, also reached the same place.
Immediately on their arrival, he made every preparation for battle,
determined to repel force by force if that was their object. But
collision was prevented by a timely notice from Hon. Wm. Simmons, to
the effect that they had authority from the Governor of Mississippi for
his arrest, and that he was at liberty to see the same.
In obedient response to this exhibited authority, Shoemake and his
colleague were informed that if they would wait a sufficient length
of time to make ready with a number of friends for protection to
accompany, he would have no objection whatever to going with them.
Their polite answer came to the following effect: “That if desired,
they would wait any reasonable length of time to enable him to have all
the conveniences wanted.”
The news and circumstances connected with his arrest spread throughout
the country with almost the speed of electricity. In many instances
the reports were very much exaggerated—causing many persons, on the
spur of the moment, to become furiously incensed, to such an extent as
to threaten the most formidable results of desperation; and but for
his appeals for order and due process of law, the most fatal acts of
violence might have been committed.
Within a period of three or four days, he had so arranged his business
as to be in entire readiness for departure, and so gave notice
accordingly. Punctual to the time, he, with about twenty volunteers,
mounted and well equipped for protection, when arrangements were made
for immediate departure for Mobile, Alabama, all leaving merrily, and
soon reached the place of destination. Arriving at the Lafayette House,
kept by a Mr. Fulton, in the city of Mobile, all fared while there very
sumptuously.
As early as practicable the next morning, the Sheriff went to the
office of Hon. Percy Walker, to procure his professional services.
This object being accomplished by a compensating fee of five hundred
dollars. The next thing to be done was for his counsel to ascertain
the amount of the several bonds to be given as required by law. This
task was quickly over, the bonds satisfactorily given, and he was
immediately released. These last incidents transpired about or near
the middle of January, 1859; and the City Court was to open on the 23d
of February, following, allowing thirty or forty days to prepare for
defence. But before continuing in the connected order, some comments
are necessary on what has preceded already.
SHOEMAKE’S OBJECT WAS ASSASSINATION.
A character so infamously conspicuous as Shoemake’s is, should not
ordinarily be passed over. It should be thoroughly understood so far as
his diabolical conduct is known; and this, in all probability, is only
a small part of his treacherous and bloody career. Well might James
Copeland remark to the Sheriff in prison: “This said Shoemake is a big
dog among us.” The foregoing reports of Shoemake’s operations are not
all; he will again be introduced as playing a distinguished part on the
subsequent trial of the Sheriff, and when he will there be pointed out
as the main witness for the prosecution, with his oath invalidated, and
the worst features of perjury attaching; these, in conjunction with the
facts established on trial, sufficiently proved him to be the author of
the “John R. Garland letter.”
The human machine, as a whole, because of common appearance, does not
strike the attention with that force which is essential to a full
comprehension of the grand and mighty work produced by an invisible and
inscrutable agency of an unseen power. It is dissection, analyzation,
and physiological researches which only can reveal the wonderful
structure and astounding recovery of the human system. Shoemake’s
vast fields of diversified operations—mixed, complicated, and clothed
in every external form of delusion, when viewed as a whole, but a
very imperfect idea can be reached of this covert and monster man.
Dissection and analyzation are necessary. The main-springs of his
movements must be brought to light. The veils and curtains must be torn
away so that the internal workings of his soul can be seen.
Let the reader go back to the time of his writing the John R. Garland
letter. There will be found a master-piece of dissimulation. Under a
fictitious signature, he describes himself, in some particulars of
crime and lawlessness, with astonishing accuracy. He gives instructions
for the reply to be sent without name to a numbered box in the post
office, at DeKalb, under the pretensions of favoring the spread of the
printed “confessions” and of dealing heavy blows against Shoemake—the
most desperate of human characters.
Some two or three weeks after, this followed by his visit in person
to the sheriff of Perry county. Here, suddenly and unexpectedly,
he reaches the door of the apartment where the sheriff was seated,
unnoticed by the watch dog or by any member of the family. Opens the
door and puts on the airs of gentlemanly civility. Pretends to have
important official business, so much so as to require secrecy in
the sheriff’s office. There exhibiting high authority, but feigned
and spurious, for capturing a renowned thief, who had succeeded in
getting away with eleven negroes; and wants the sheriff to accompany
him on such an important expedition over roads wile and desolate.
Failing in this object, he next introduces the subject of his own,
the John R. Garland letter, and said it had been written by a d——d
rascal by the name of White—urging with all his powers of solicitation
to see the letter, but without success. He furthermore attempts, by
all the arts of sophistry, to induce the sheriff to make changes in
the “confessions,” and, failing in this, then tries the weapons of
intimidation by declaring that trouble more or less must fall on the
sheriff if something were not done to relieve George A. Cleaveland and
others in Mobile.
The reader perfectly understanding the above, must certainly come to
the following conclusion, that Shoemake had a threefold object in view
by this visit to the sheriff. First, and the most preferable, was
assassination, and, if no opportunity offered for this in his office,
to get him off, under false pretensions, on solitary and dreary roads
for the better accomplishment of the same. Secondly, to get hold of the
John R. Garland letter, which he knew must be very dangerous in any
other hands but his own. Thirdly, to publicly kill the sheriff and the
“confessions” by inducing him to make changes.
Shoemake when next he appeared in Augusta, it was on a different
mission. This time, he was armed with real authority from the Governor
of Mississippi for the arrest of the sheriff. But finding him absent,
he assiduously and very ingeniously sets to work to gather all possible
information as to his whereabouts and the time for his return. This
done, in hot pursuit he makes his departure for the seizure of his
object. He travels forward with alacrity until he reaches an extensive
morass; then, with his colleague, ambushes both sides of it, for a day
or two, so as to close in from both ways, if opportunity afforded, on
his object, and make escape impossible—ready with a convenient horse
for any emergency which might occur. Despairing of meeting with the
sought after prize, onward he goes until he reaches the ferry—the
distance of a day’s ride from Mississippi City, where he expected
another opportunity for getting hold of the man he wanted—so arranges
as for one to remain on each side of the ferried river—again rendering
passage impossible without discovery. Again disappointed, onwards he
proceeds, and in a short time comes in contact with the person in
pursuit of, but in such a situation as to mar his purposes at that
point. They pass, both sides knowing each other. He travels a short
distance forward—then turns back after his object, who has fled at
the rate of about eight or nine miles the hour—succeeds in reaching
Augusta only two hours behind his object. Then makes known his mission
of arrest—seeing the tremendous public excitement prevailing which
threatened his existence, politely agrees to wait a reasonable length
of time for his nominal prisoner—four days waiting for in making
preparatory arrangements to have a sufficient protective force to
accompany, when all set out for Mobile—here reached, then, the sheriff
in the buggy with him, then drives rapidly down one street, up another,
and round the corners with a velocity that kept some three or four of
the protective force in a gallop to keep up with the speed.
The reader will once more draw his own inferences. He will plainly see
that the principal aim again was assassination as the better method
among outlaws of disposing of troublesome persons. The lying in ambush
for one or two whole days on both sides of the morass, on both sides
of the next river, the hurried rapidity of the return to overtake the
sheriff before reaching Augusta, and the last effort to get clear of
the “protective force” in the city of Mobile by forced speed through
complicated streets; all these facts in connection are plain to the
unprejudiced mind as to the ultimate object in view. Indirectly
corroborative, there is another fact, which will be further noticed in
the sequel, to the effect of one by the name of Cornelious McLamore
from Kemper county, an important witness on trial, who crushingly and
effectively broke down the testimony of the said Shoemake, but in all
probability his life paid the forfeit; for McLamore from that time to
the present has never more been heard of—his remains likely burnt or
buried in some dismal swamp—another victim to the vengeance of the
“clan.”