“AND now,” continued Irving, “to go back to your opening, where we
rather discount Raymond’s stories of the wild life of Texas. Have you
seen the ‘Herald’s’ latest sensation?”
“No.”
“Not the Texan tragedy?”
“No.”
“Here it is, then; listen to the heads of it: ‘Two Crime-stained
Ruffians die with their Boots on—Pistol Shots in a Theatre—Killed
in Self-defence by Men whose Lives they sought—The Heroes of many
Murders!’”
He handed me the paper, saying, “Read that! And yet we chaffed poor
Raymond!”
I read a “special telegram” to the “Herald” (and verified the report at
a later day by the records of other journals, local, and of the “Empire
city”), reporting that on the 11th of March, between ten and twelve at
night, San Antonio, Texas, was “thrown into a state of wild excitement,
by the report that Ben Thompson and King Fisher had been shot and
killed at the Vaudeville Theatre. An immense crowd thronged around the
doors of the theatre, but were denied admission by the officers who had
taken possession of the building.
“It seems that Ben Thompson, who is noted throughout Texas as one of
the most reckless and desperate characters in the State, and King
Fisher, who also had the reputation of a desperado, arrived at San
Antonio together, from Austin, by the International train. After
enjoying the performance at Turner Hall for a time, they left before
the curtain fell, and went to the Vaudeville Theatre, in company
with another person. As soon as it became known that Thompson was in
the city the police were on the alert, expecting trouble. Fisher and
Thompson entered the Vaudeville, and, after taking a drink at the bar,
went upstairs and took seats. They engaged in a brief conversation with
Simms, one of the proprietors, and the whole party took drinks and
cigars together. Thompson and Fisher then rose, and, in company with
Simms and Coy, a special policeman at the theatre, started downstairs.
“The party was joined by Joe Foster, another of the Vaudeville
proprietors, and an excited and heated conversation followed, during
which Thompson called Foster a liar, a thief, and other vile names.
Firing then commenced, and some ten or twelve shots were heard in
rapid succession. Police Captain Shardein and another officer rushed
upstairs, to find Ben Thompson and King Fisher weltering in their blood
in the corner of a room near the door leading downstairs. Joe Foster
was badly wounded in the leg, and Officer Coy slightly grazed on the
shin.
“A scene of the wildest confusion ensued as soon as the shooting
commenced. All who were in the theatre knew of the presence of
Thompson and Fisher, and were well acquainted with their desperate
character. When the first shot was fired the whole crowd seemed to be
panic-stricken. The dress circle was quickly cleared, the occupants
jumping into the parquet below and through the side-windows into the
street. No one seems to know who fired the first shot, or how many were
engaged in the shooting. Before the theatre was fairly cleared of its
occupants fifteen hundred persons on the outside were clamoring at the
closed doors for admittance, which was resolutely denied by the police,
who had taken possession of the building. Subsequently the dead bodies
of Thompson and Fisher were removed to the City Jail, where they were
washed and laid out.
“Bill Thompson, the brother of Ben, was at the White Elephant at the
time of the shooting, waiting for Ben to return from Turner Hall. He
rushed out as soon as he saw that there was some trouble; but, as
he was unarmed, he was stopped at the entrance to the Vaudeville by
Captain Shardien, and kept outside the building.
“An immense crowd followed the remains of the two desperadoes when
they were carried to the jail, and this morning the plaza around the
building was thronged.
“From the statements of those connected with the theatre the killing
was unavoidable, as it seemed to be understood when Thompson entered
the house that his purpose was to raise a disturbance; but whether King
Fisher shared in this design is not known.
“A coroner’s jury was summoned at once. They viewed the bodies, and
the inquest was held the next morning. After hearing the testimony of
eye-witnesses and others a verdict was returned to the effect that
Ben Thompson and J. King Fisher came to their deaths by means of
pistol-bullets fired from weapons in the hands of W. Simms, Joseph C.
Foster, and Jacob Coy; and, further, that the killing was justifiable,
being done in self-defence. Coy, the special policeman on duty at
the theatre, testified that Thompson drew his weapon first; but it
was seized by witness, who held it in his grasp during the affray.
Thompson, however, fired four shots, one of which took effect in
Foster’s leg.
“Foster’s leg has been amputated, and there are no hopes of his
recovery.”
The newspaper man gives “Thompson’s antecedents” and “Fisher’s record,”
as follows:—
Ben Thompson was born in Knottingley, a town in Yorkshire, England, in
1844. His father was a sea-captain. Ben leaves a wife and two children
in Austin,—a bright boy of fourteen years and a girl of eleven. He
has a brother here, who took charge of his body, and carried it to
Austin to-day. Thompson’s record is a bloody one. He is said to have
slain probably twenty men. His last victim was Jack Harris, proprietor
of the Vaudeville, whom he shot in June, 1882, in the same house in
which he himself was slain last night. His death is little regretted
here.
King Fisher was a young man of some twenty-eight years, and his record
was, if possible, more bloody than Thompson’s. For years he was feared
as a frontier desperado, and killed Mexicans almost for pastime. Of
late he had reformed a little, and when killed was deputy sheriff of
Walde county. Both men were strikingly handsome, and noted as quick
dead-shots with six-shooters, or Winchesters. Fisher’s remains were
shipped home to-night.
The reporter adds: “The city is now quiet, though the death of two
such notorious desperadoes is still a topic of conversation.”
“Thompson was an Englishman, you see,” remarked Irving, “which
verifies to some extent what I have often been told, that England has
to answer for a full share of the ruffianly element of the States.
The mining regions of California at one time were crowded with
English adventurers. What a vast country it is that encircles in its
territories every climate,—tropical heat and arctic cold! To-day,
while we are ice-bound, a journey of two or three days would take us
to Florida and orange-groves, and a day’s travel from the heart of a
highly civilized city, of refined cultivation and well-ordered society,
would carry us into a region where men live in primitive state, so far
as the law is concerned, and yet are the pioneers of a great empire.
What a story, the history of America, when somebody tells it from its
picturesque and romantic side!”