AS A VERACIOUS chronicler of the events, inexplicable and unbelievable
as this story may appear, of the life and exploits of Swiftwater Bill
Gates, I want to begin this chapter with the prefatory announcement
that, all and singular, as the lawyers say, the statements herein are
absolutely true and may be verified.
I give this simple warning merely because, as I recall what happened
the next two or three days after Swiftwater’s arrest, it seems to
me that many of my readers will say, “These things could not have
happened.”
Swiftwater, calmly seating himself, in a big leather upholstered Morris
chair, said, looking at the Sheriff; “Old man, I guess we can fix this
thing up right here. Send for the judge and have him come down here
quick.”
The officer looked at me and smiled.
“I don’t want to see Mr. Gates put in jail tonight” said I. “And if
there is any way that this thing can be settled I am willing. More than
that,” and here I looked at Swiftwater, “I think Bill will not make
any attempt to escape, and if it is all right with you, I’ll go on his
bond.”
After more palaver of this kind, and here I am about to tell something
about judicial processes that will surely cause a smile, a messenger
was sent from the hotel to another hotel, where was stopping Judge
Hatch, who was sitting on the Superior Court bench in King County,
although he lived in another county down the Sound.
Outside in the hall there were a score of people, waiting to see
Swiftwater, and to learn what would be the outcome of the case. There
was the sheriff, Lou Smith; two other deputies, a half dozen lawyers
and the reporters for the Seattle newspapers--quite a colony altogether.
After half an hour the judge came in the room, accompanied by another
deputy sheriff.
“We’d just as well have some of the lawyers in here,” said Swiftwater.
“Ask Mr. Murphy and Mr. Cole to come in.”
The door was opened and in came the attorneys and some others.
“Will you please ring the bell, Mrs. Beebe?” said Swiftwater.
I rang the bell, the boy came and Swiftwater ordered two pint bottles
of wine.
Now, this was Swiftwater’s way of dallying with justice. It was
another exemplification of his idea--the mainspring in the man’s whole
character--that money could do anything and everything.
The wine came, two bottles at a time and then four, and then six.
Every time the boy came up, Swiftwater borrowed money from me to pay
the bill. Then Swiftwater did something that I never believed could
happen. The National Bank at Fairbanks had, a few weeks before, issued
its first currency--the first government bank notes in all Alaska.
Swiftwater had a bunch of the new $20 bills and, wrapping in each a
nugget taken from Number 6 Cleary, he presented one to each of his
friends--that is, all who were present.
“If Mr. Gates will deposit $2,250, as counsel for Mrs. Gates desires,
which is to be applied for the maintenance of herself and children and
for attorney’s fees, I think we may continue this matter until a later
date,” said the judge.
Swiftwater came over to me.
“I’ve got a thousand dollar draft,” said he, “and if you will loan me
$1,250 I’ll pay everything up Monday,” said Swiftwater.
I have never yet fully made up my mind what led me to loan Swiftwater
that money, unless it was that, like everyone else who knew of his
wonderful capacity for getting money rapidly out of the North, I
believed he would make good all of his promises. I gave him the money,
and Swiftwater was a free man.
Just then the sheriff himself opened the door and, noticing one of the
lawyers holding a bunch of bills and drafts in his hand, said:
“I guess I will take charge of this.”
And so it came about that the money was deposited in the clerk’s office
in the county court, and on Monday morning, before any of us were
about, the lawyers for Bera, Murphy & Cole, appeared in the courthouse
with an order signed by the judge to draw the money out. Bera got $750
of the $1,000 promised her for maintenance for herself and children and
the lawyers got the remainder.
Is it any wonder, then, that I have often thought it was the easiest
thing in the world for Swiftwater to find a loophole in the meshes of
the law by which he could escape, while I have never yet found a way to
make the law give me just common justice?
And now it was Swiftwater’s turn to act. In another day the newspapers
had his story that he had been “held up,” and after that came a
sensation in the Bar Association of Seattle the like of which is not on
record. And while the lawyers were fighting over the spoils, Swiftwater
cleverly enough, though haunted by the spectre of the state prison, and
constantly pressed by Kitty Gates, his polygamous wife, began working
on Bera’s sympathies. He came to the hotel and went to Bera’s room.
“Bera,” he said, “unless you get a divorce from me, and do it at once,
Kitty will send me to the penitentiary; I will lose all my property in
Alaska, and the boys and you will be everlastingly disgraced.”
Bera listened. It is enough to say that with Swiftwater in the
penitentiary, his mining interests in Alaska, which promised brighter
than anything he had ever undertaken, and that means hundreds of
thousands of dollars, all of Bera’s chance and mine to ever get a new
start in life would have been wasted.
Swiftwater daily said:
“Bera, you certainly love the boys enough to save them the disgrace of
having a felon for a father.”
The argument was enough. Bera consented, and although, as I understand
it, the law specifically prohibits a divorce where the parties agree in
advance on the severance of the holy marriage tie, Swiftwater went away
and Bera brought suit for divorce in the court of King County. And in
time the decree was granted and is still of record in that county.
A week later Swiftwater, as I afterwards found out, joined Kitty Gates
in Portland and the two went to San Francisco. Thus can be turned into
the basest uses the legal processes of our courts and, strange as it
may seem, Swiftwater, after Bera’s divorce, legally married Kitty,
then divorced her, and not later than two years afterwards he told the
newspapers in San Francisco, that having divorced all his other wives,
he was looking for a new one.
I want to ask now, is there no law to reach a monster of this kind?
Are the laws so framed that men of Swiftwater’s type can go at large
throughout the country ruining the lives of young girls, and, followed
by a halo of gold and the fame that quick fortune making brings,
claiming and receiving the friendship of their fellow men?