Federal Rurales—Robbery by servants—Wholesale thieving—Lack of police
discipline—A story of Roosevelt.
What I have said about the Mexican troops does not apply to the
regiments of Federal Rurales (Irregular Horse), who are an entirely
different class of men. Originally they were recruited from captured
bandits, for the purpose of hunting down others. Now they are mostly
recruited from the cowboy or _vaquero_ class. They have good uniforms,
fine horses and arms, are splendid riders, and have almost unlimited
authority in the capture and even execution of bandits or road-agents.
They are the men who are used in most of the Indian fighting and in
local uprisings such as happened some years ago on the Texas border.
A few years ago a bullion train, between here and Tepic, was attacked by
bandits and all but one of the guards were killed. He managed to
stampede the mules, and get away with the bullion to safety. The Rurales
were ordered out, overtook the bandits and arrested them; nearly thirty
were shot without trial, on the spot where the attack had been made.
Mexican justice, in cases of this kind, or in labour strikes, is very
prompt, though to an outsider it may seem rather cruel. In the great
strike in the cotton mills in Orizaba a few years ago, the strikers,
after some rioting, burned down one of the mills. The Rurales captured
the president, vice-president, secretary, and treasurer of the local
union who had instigated the trouble, and shot them on the site of the
burned mill. This seems pretty rough on the leaders, but strike
disorders will not be tolerated in this country. If by shooting four of
the ringleaders the disorders can be stopped at once it is cheap at the
price, considering the loss of life that would ultimately ensue if the
disorders were allowed to continue. Look at the number of men killed and
crippled for life in the teamsters’ strike in Chicago, or in the
street-car men’s strike in San Francisco, and that was in a Saxon
country. In a Latin country it would start in a strike and end in
revolution.
The first year we were here the servants robbed us of nearly everything
we possessed, and managed to get away without being caught. On one
occasion, however, my wife caught one of the girls trying to sneak out
with some of the children’s clothes. She stopped her in time, and,
locking the front door, she told the girl she would have to wait till I
came home at noon, it then being about 11.30 A.M. A few minutes later I
happened to return, and my wife told me of the circumstances. I went to
get the girl before I called a policeman, but she was not in the house.
All the houses in Guadalajara, and in fact in the greater part of Mexico
except in some of the foreign colonies, are built in continuous blocks.
The front windows on the streets have iron bars covering them, and they
all have double front doors; the outer one of wood and the inner one of
steel bars, with a short hallway between them. The garden is in the
centre of the house and is called the patio, so there is no outlet
except through the front door. The girl, however, had taken a small
ladder we had in the house, and with its assistance had got up on the
roof of a small wash-house. From here it was nearly seven feet to the
roof of the house, a straight wall without footholds, yet she had
managed to make this climb taking her bundle of clothes with her, and
had gone from roof to roof (they are all flat) till she found a way to
get down to the street and to safety.
The police never make any very strenuous attempts to catch a criminal if
the offence is committed against a foreigner, for they are regarded as
lawful prey. Another girl stole my wife’s watch and chain, and though I
laid complaint within an hour of the occurrence, the police declared
that they could not find her, and she must have left the city. We had at
our yard an old man as night-watchman who had spent most of his life in
the secret service here. I went to see him, and told him that I would
give him $5 if he could catch the girl, and within three hours he had
her in jail. We never recovered the watch, but the girl got a sentence
of four years. One woman robbed us in rather a funny way. We had taken
her in without a recommendation, and my wife was watching her closely
the first day she was in the house. About ten o’clock she came to my
wife and asked if she could take out the “basura” (rubbish for the
garbage wagon); she came from the back of the house with the basket on
her head, walked right past my wife, who opened the door for her and
then went into the parlour. As the girl was a long time in returning my
wife went out to the _zaguan_ (the hall between the inner and outer
doors), and there lay an empty basket but no girl. She then went to the
back of the house, and there on the kitchen floor lay the _basura_; and
the wash-line was empty of all the clothes that had been out there
drying.
A friend of mine had his house completely stripped of everything of
value (by his servants) while the family were out; the thieves were
never caught, though one of the girls had two gold front teeth (a most
uncommon thing amongst Mexicans). Most people when they leave their
houses, and no member of the family stays at home, either turn out all
the servants and lock the doors, or lock the servants in the house while
they are away. An American ore-buying concern here had its office in
front of the railway station, the busiest part of the city. One Sunday
afternoon four men drove up in a wagon, opened the door with a key,
loaded the cash-safe on to the wagon, locked the door, and neither they
nor the safe have ever been seen since. The police saw them at work, but
thought they were employees of the house and so did not interfere. I
went into a billiard hall a few days ago in Acambaro (while waiting
between trains) to play a game; the proprietor said he was sorry but
some one had stolen all the balls. A few weeks ago I was in a street car
in Morelia; when we got to a cross-over the conductor cussed, for some
one had stolen the switch (tie rods and all) during the night.
In Guanaguato, a mining town near here, there used to live a mine
manager who was in the habit of keeping rather large sums of money in
his house. His servant girl told some of her friends of this, and also
that he would be out at the mine on a certain night. She was, however,
mistaken about the latter, as he happened to stay at home. During the
night Mrs. Rose woke up and found four men in her room. When she called
to her husband one of them struck her across the back with a machete
(cane knife), then her husband woke up and grappled with them though
quite unarmed. While the poor fellow was putting up a most unequal fight
his wife, though badly hurt, ran to the bureau, got out his revolver and
handed it to him. But he was so terribly wounded that though he was able
to empty the gun and scare off the robbers he could not shoot well
enough to get any of them. His wife recovered, but poor Rose died the
next day from his wounds. I am glad to say that the murderers were all
caught later and shot. But there is a moral to this which many of us
have learned: if you have a revolver keep it under your pillow and not
in a bureau drawer.
A few years ago a poor old American market-gardener here was killed a
most brutal way, being first tortured to try to make him show where he
had hidden money that did not exist; he was well over seventy years old,
rather childish, but liked and admired by the entire American colony
here. Some of this bandit element then decided to hold up the owner of
one of the largest hardware (ironmonger’s) stores here; but his wife and
fourteen-year-old boy happened to overhear some of the conversation from
the porch of their house (not one hundred yards from where the old man
had been killed), and one with a shotgun and the other with a 22 calibre
rifle went out and so peppered them that they fled with what lead they
had received. It was lucky for them that they did so, for, on another
occasion, a man did actually hold up this same gentleman, and when
Kipper finally got through with him, he was glad to get into the hands
of a policeman alive. I have said enough to show that the people are
thieves, and at times dangerous. As I said before, there are plenty of
policemen, but they are on actual duty twelve hours per day, and then
have to sleep in the police station, ready to be called out in case they
are needed; therefore they put in most of their duty-time getting
cat-naps in doorways or wherever they can find a place. Besides this,
they are recruited from the peon class, and get very little pay. During
my first year’s work, when I used to go to the yard at 3 A.M., I have
seen a dozen of them asleep on the benches in San Francisco park as I
passed through. Discipline is almost unknown, and I have seen policemen
on duty sitting on the curb shining their shoes. Of course they smoke
all the time on duty, and very frequently drink more than is good for
them.
What they need is a Roosevelt for police commissioner. They tell a story
of Roosevelt when he was police commissioner in New York. One evening he
saw a policeman standing before a saloon back entrance about to take a
drink of beer. “What is your name?” asked Roosevelt. “It is none of your
business; what is your name?” said the cop. “My name is Roosevelt,” was
the answer. The policeman finished his beer, wiped his mouth on his
sleeve, and said, “If your name is really Roosevelt then I guess my name
is Dennis” (a slang phrase in America, used in the sense that he was
discharged). The quick reply saved him from more than a reprimand. This
reminds me of a story of the judge in Kentucky who had a man up for
making illicit whisky. “What is your name?” he asked the prisoner, and
was answered, “Joshua.” The judge smiled on the court, and said,
“Joshua, Joshua, it seems to me that I have heard that name before. Oh
yes! you are the fellow who made the sun stand still.” “No,” replied the
prisoner, “I am that Joshua who made the moonshine still” (the name
given to an illicit distillery).