TRIAL OF GEORGE IVES
Intelligence of the capture of Ives preceded the arrival of the scouts
at Nevada. That town was full of people when they entered with their
prisoners. A discussion between the citizens of Virginia City and
Nevada, growing out of the claims asserted by each to the custody and
trial of the prisoners, after much protesting by the friends of Ives,
resulted in their detention at Nevada. They were separated and chained,
and a strong inside and outside guard placed over them. The excitement
was intense; and the roughs, alarmed for the fate of their comrades,
despatched Clubfoot George to Bannack with a message to Plummer,
requesting him to come at once to Nevada, and demand the prisoners for
trial by the civil authorities. By means of frequent relays provided at
the several places of rendezvous of the robbers on the route, he
performed the journey before morning. Johnny Gibbons, a rancher, in
sympathy with Ives, proceeded immediately to Virginia City, and secured
the legal assistance of Ritchie and Smith, the latter being the same
individual who had figured in the defence of the Dillingham murderers.
But the time for strategy was over,—the people were determined there
should be no delay.
Early the next morning, the road leading through the gulch was filled
with people hastening from all the towns and mining settlements to
Nevada. Before ten o’clock, fifteen hundred or two thousand had
assembled and were standing in the partially congealed mud of the only
public thoroughfare of the town. The weather was pleasant for the
season, with no snow, but a little frostwork of ice bordered the
streams, and the sun shone with an October warmth and serenity. The
urchins of the neighborhood were dodging in and out among the crowd, in
merry pastime; and the great gathering, with all its appointments, wore
more of a commemorative than retributory aspect. And as this was the day
preceding “Forefathers’ Day,” one unacquainted with the sterner matters
in hand, might readily have mistaken it for an old-time New England
festival. The illusion, however, would have been instantly dispelled on
listening to the various opinions advanced by the miners, while
arranging the mode of trial. It was finally determined that the
investigation should be made in the presence of the entire
assemblage,—the miners reserving the final decision of all questions. To
avoid all injustice to people or prisoners, an advisory commission of
twelve men from each of the districts was appointed; and W. H. Patton of
Nevada, and W. Y. Pemberton of Virginia City, were selected to take
notes of the testimony.
Col. Wilbur F. Sanders and Hon. Charles S. Bagg, attorneys, appeared on
behalf of the prosecution, and Messrs. Alexander Davis and J. M.
Thurmond for the prisoners. Ives was the first prisoner put upon trial.
It was late in the afternoon of the nineteenth before the examination of
witnesses commenced. The prisoner, secured by chains, was seated beside
his counsel. The remainder of that day, and all the day following, had
been spent; and when the crowd assembled on the morning of the
twenty-first, the prospect for another day of unprofitable wrangling,
long speeches, captious objections, and personal altercations, was
promising; but the patience of the miners being exhausted, they informed
the court and people that the trial must close at three o’clock that
afternoon. This announcement was received with great satisfaction.
I am unable from any facts in my possession to recapitulate the
testimony. Long John was admitted to testify under the rule of law
regulating the reception of State’s evidence. Among other things it was
established that Ives had said in a boastful manner to his associates in
crime,
“When I told the Dutchman I was going to kill him, he asked me for time
to pray. I told him to kneel down then. He did so, and I shot him
through the head just as he commenced his prayer.”
Two alibis set up in defence failed of proof, because of the infamous
character of the witnesses. Many developments of crimes committed
jointly by the prisoner and some of his sympathizing friends, were made,
which had the effect to drive the latter from the Territory before the
close of the trial, but for which his conviction might possibly have
been avoided.
The prisoner was unmoved throughout the trial. Not a shade of fear
disturbed the immobility of his features. Calm and self-possessed, he
saw the threads of evidence woven into strands, and those strands
twisted into coils as inextricable as they were condemnatory, and he
looked out upon the stern and frigid faces of the men who were to
determine his fate with a gaze more defiant than any he encountered.
There were those near him who were melted to tears at the revelation of
his cruelty and bloodthirstiness; there were even those among his
friends who betrayed in their blanched lineaments their own horror at
his crimes; but he, the central figure, equally indifferent to both, sat
in their midst, as inflexible as an image of stone.
[Illustration:
COLONEL WILBUR F. SANDERS
_Principal prosecutor of George Ives_
]
The scene, by its associations and objects, could not be otherwise than
terribly impressive to all who were actors in it; it wanted none of the
elements, either of epic force or tragic fury, which form the basis of
our noblest poems. A whole community, burning under repeated outrages,
sitting in trial on one of an unknown number of desperate men, whose
strength, purposes, even whose persons, were wrapped in mystery! How
many of that surging crowd now gathered around the crime-covered
miscreant, might rush to his rescue the moment his doom should be
pronounced, no one could even conjecture. No man felt certain that he
knew the sentiments of his neighbor. None certainly knew that the
adherents of the criminal were weaker, either in numbers or power, than
the men of law and order. It was night, too, before the testimony
closed; and in the pale moonlight, and glare of the trial fire,
suspicion transformed honest men into ruffians, and filled the ranks of
the guilty with hundreds of recruits.
The jury retired to deliberate upon their verdict. An oppressive
feeling, almost amounting to dread, fell upon the now silent and anxious
assemblage. Every eye was turned upon the prisoner, seemingly the only
person unaffected by surrounding circumstances. Moments grew into hours.
“What detains the jury? Why do they not return? Is not the case clear
enough?” These questions fell upon the ear in subdued tones, as if their
very utterance breathed of fear. In less than half an hour they came in
with solemn faces, with their verdict,—Guilty!—but one juror dissenting.
“Thank God for that!” “A righteous verdict!” and other like expressions
broke from the crowd, while on the outer edge of it, amidst mingled
curses, execrations, and howls of indignation, and the quick click of
guns and revolvers, one of the ruffians exclaimed,
“The murderous, strangling villains dare not hang him, at any rate.”
Just at this moment a motion was made to the miner “that the report be
received, and the jury discharged,” which, with some little opposition
from the prisoner’s lawyers, was carried.
Some of the crowd now became clamorous for an adjournment; but failing
in this, the motion was then made “that the assembly adopt as their
verdict the report of the committee.”
The prisoner’s counsel sprung to their feet to oppose the motion, but it
was carried by such a large majority, that the assemblage seemed at once
to gather fresh life and encouragement for the discharge of the solemn
duty which it imposed. There was a momentary lull in the proceedings,
when the people found that they had reached the point when the execution
of the criminal was all that remained to be done. They realized that the
crisis of the trial had arrived. On the faces of all could be read their
unexpressed anxiety concerning the result. What man among them possessed
the courage and commanding power equal to the exigencies of the
occasion!
At this critical moment, the necessity for prompt action, which had so
disarranged and defeated the consummation of the trial of Stinson and
Lyons, was met by Colonel Sanders, one of the counsel for the
prosecution, who now moved, “that George Ives be forthwith hanged by the
neck, until he be dead.”
This motion so paralyzed the ruffians, that, before they could recover
from their astonishment at its being offered, it was carried with even
greater unanimity than either of the previous motions, the people having
increased in courage as the work progressed. Some of the friends of Ives
now came up, with tears in their eyes, to bid him farewell. One or two
of them gave way to immoderate grief. Meantime, Ives himself, beginning
to realize the near approach of death, begged piteously for a delay
until morning, making all those pathetic appeals which on such occasions
are hard to resist. “I want to write to my mother and sister,” said he;
but when it was remembered that he had written, and caused to be sent to
his mother soon after he came to the country, an account of his own
murder by Indians, in order to deceive her, no one thought the reason
for delay a good one.
“Ask him,” said one of the crowd, as he held the hand of Colonel
Sanders, and was in the midst of a most touching appeal for delay, “ask
him how long a time he gave the Dutchman.”
He, however, made a will, giving everything to his counsel and
companions in iniquity, to the entire exclusion of his mother and
sisters. Several letters were written under his dictation by one of his
counsel.
In the meantime, A. B. Davis and Robert Hereford prepared a scaffold.
The butt of a small pine, forty feet in length, was placed on the inside
of a half-enclosed building standing near, under its rear wall, the top
projecting over a cross-beam in front. Near the upper end was fastened
the fatal cord, and a large dry-goods box, about five feet high, was
placed beneath for the trap.
Every preparation being completed, Ives was informed that the time for
his execution had come. He submitted to be led quietly to the drop, but
hundreds of voices were raised in opposition. The roofs of all the
adjacent buildings were crowded with spectators. While some cried, “Hang
the ruffian,” others said, “Let’s banish him,” and others shouted,
“Don’t hang him.” Some said, “Hang Long John. He’s the real murderer,”
and occasionally was heard a threat, “I’ll shoot the murdering souls,”
accompanied by curses and epithets. The flash of revolvers was
everywhere seen in the moonlight. The guards stood grim and firm. The
miners cocked their guns, muttered threats against all who interfered,
and formed a solid phalanx which it would have been madness to assault.
When the culprit appeared upon the platform, instant stillness pervaded
the assembly. The rope was adjusted. The usual question, “Have you
anything to say?” was addressed to the prisoner, who replied in a
distinct voice,
“I am innocent of this crime. Alex Carter killed the Dutchman.”
This was the only time he accused any one except Long John.
He then expressed a wish to see Long John, and his sympathizers yelled
in approbation; but as an attempted rescue was anticipated, the request
was denied.
When all the formalities and last requests were over, the order was
given to the guard,
“Men, do your duty.”
The click of a hundred gun-locks was heard, as the guard levelled their
weapons upon the crowd, and the box flew from under the murderer’s feet,
as he swung “in the night breeze, facing the pale moon, that lighted up
the scene of retributive justice.” The crowd of rescuers fled in terror
at the click of the guns.
“He is dead,” said the judge, who was standing near him. “His neck is
broken.”
Henry Spivey, the juror who voted against the conviction of Ives, was a
thoroughly honest and conscientious man. He was not satisfied that the
evidence showed Ives to be guilty of the murder of Tiebalt, and as this
was the specific charge against him, he could not vote against his
conscience. He said that if Ives had been tried as a road agent, he
would have voted for his conviction.
The highest praise is due to Colonel Sanders for the fearlessness and
energy he displayed in the conduct of this trial; for it furnished an
example which was not lost upon the law and order men in all their
subsequent efforts to rid the Territory of the ruffians.