Return to Parker's Landing--His three years' Sojourn in that
Town--Adventures and Incidents--Attempt to burn Ben's House.
As intimated in the preceding chapter, Ben left Pittsburg after the
sinking of the Floating Palace, and returned to Parker's Landing.
There he bought a house from one Johnson, with the intention of fitting it
up as a sporting resort.
The town of Parker's Landing takes its name from one of its residents who
is familiarly known as Old Parker. At the time of which I am writing, Old
Parker owned a good deal of property, and wielded a large influence in the
town. No sooner had he heard of Ben's purchase, than he informed Hogan
that he could not remain in the place. Ben replied that he had bought the
property and paid for it; that he intended to keep a thoroughly
first-class establishment; that everything would be conducted in a quiet
and orderly manner, and that there would be no disorderliness anywhere
about the premises.
Old Parker thought that there mas no such thing as a first-class variety
hall, and that two women would be two too many for the morality of the
neighborhood. The dispute waxed hot and hotter, until Ben finally lost his
temper and resolved to go ahead and run any sort of an establishment he
pleased.
Accordingly, the next day he opened up with six people, and the day
following procured six more. In a month's time he was doing a business big
enough to justify the enlargement of his house, adding a wing forty feet
in length. He also bought a nine hundred dollar piano, and with fifteen
stars under his management, the establishment was in full blast.
Ben remained in Parker's at this time three years. During that period, he
met with innumerable incidents and adventures, only a part of which can
here be narrated.
The house, it should be remembered, was really conducted on a high-toned
scale. Artists were there who could speak all languages which any of the
patrons would be apt to understand. The patrons were drawn from the
prosperous citizens of Pittsburg, Oil City and elsewhere, and included
speculators, bankers, capitalists and merchants. Many a respectable
citizen found it frequently necessary to go to Parker's on pressing
business--and the business usually proved so very pressing that it
necessitated his remaining over night.
So far as it was possible to conduct such a place honorably, Ben did so.
Of course there were ways enough for the visitor to spend his money, but
there was no violence used toward anybody, nor was robbery permitted. An
idea of the amount of business done may be gained from the announcement
that the income of the place during the three years amounted to fully
fifty thousand dollars. If some pious people objected to the nature of
Ben's business, it must, nevertheless, be admitted that that business did
a great deal toward keeping up Parker's. It called to the town hundreds of
men who otherwise would probably never have gone there; and it kept in
circulation a large amount of money, for Ben spent as freely as he
received.
Among the earliest incidents which occurred to Ben during his early
sojourn in the place, was one in which Parker himself figured
conspicuously. While Hogan was first preparing to open his house, he was
engaged one day in painting the outside, when Doc Barnes happened to pass
along, and Ben, from his perch on the step-ladder, sprinkled some of the
paint over Doc's new clothes. Thereupon a friendly tussle ensued, in the
midst of which Parker put in an appearance. He straightway concluded that
the two men were fighting, and he regarded it as his Christian duty to
interfere. Just as he got under the step-ladder, the pot of paint, in some
mysterious manner, tipped over, and the contents struck Parker on the
head, and trickled down his clothes, giving him a coat as brightly colored
as Joseph's. Perhaps the paint pot upset itself without any aid from Ben;
and then, again, perhaps it didn't. At any rate, Parker, with the paint
dripping off of him, vowed that he would never interfere with a fight
again.
In such a house as Ben presided over, it was inevitable that a good many
tough characters should at times assemble. To manage these properly called
for nerve and pluck. Here is an incident which illustrates how Ben played
the champion at the risk of his own life:
A fellow by the name of Stilson came in to Hogan's place one night and
became smitten by the charms of one of the young women. He was bent upon
thrusting his society on this girl, who was equally determined not to have
anything to do with him. Stilson became angry, and began to use abusive
language. Ben, who always kept an eye open as to what was going on in the
establishment, stepped up to the fellow and told him that he must stop his
noise or clear out. Stilson sullenly withdrew; but in a dark alleyway
which led along the side of the building, he ran across the girl whom he
had been importuning for favors. Finding her alone, he openly insulted
her, and her cries brought Ben to the spot. Stilson drew a revolver, and
holding it toward Ben threatened to shoot. It was so dark that the men
could not see each other; but Ben could feel the muzzle of the pistol
against his coat.
While Stilson was still threatening to shoot, Ben pushed the barrel of the
revolver to one side, so that the ball would pass harmlessly by. Meantime,
he drew his own weapon, which Stilson did not know he carried. Ben was
particularly anxious to give this fellow a dose of cold lead, but he
wanted him to fire the first shot. So he dared him to shoot, calling him
all manner of names, and blackguarding him roundly.
Had Stilson pulled the trigger of his pistol, as I have explained, the
ball would have passed harmlessly by Ben's side, while our hero would have
done more effectual work. But Stilson was not the sort of a man to shoot,
although he talked loudly enough. It was well for him that he finally put
up his pistol, for if he had discharged it, it would certainly have cost
him his life.
Once, during his three years' residence in Parker's, Ben attended church.
The newspapers in the country about came out the next day and declared it
was a pity the steeple had not fallen and crushed Hogan to death. Finding
so little encouragement in his attempt to follow the paths of piety, Ben
gave it up as a bad job, and never troubled a church again.
But if he did not sit in a pew on Sundays, our hero did some good deeds
which would have honored any Christian. For example, a girl came to him on
one occasion in sore distress. She had gone astray; had lived a short,
wild life of sin and pleasure, and was now reaping the terrible harvest of
her wayward career. Forsaken by friends, with no home to go to, she had
come to Ben as a last refuge. She was then pregnant and suffering from a
loathsome disease. Her cup of wretchedness seemed greater than she could
bear, and like many another poor unfortunate, she had resolved to end her
misery by taking her own life. She had gone so far, even, as to procure
the poison, which she fully intended to take.
Ben talked to this woman in a way in which no stiff-necked puritan could
have talked. He told her there was still hope for her in this world; that
she must put all thoughts of suicide out of her mind, and that he would
help her out of the slough into which she had fallen. A gleam of hope
finally dawned upon the black pathway of this miserable girl. She found in
Ben a friend who did something more than preach. He gave her sound advice,
and backed this up with aid of a more substantial nature. Through his
influence she obtained admittance to the Pittsburg Hospital, and there, in
the course of a few weeks, she was fully restored to health. Then Hogan
took it upon himself to bring about a reconciliation between the girl and
her parents. He visited the latter, who lived in Butler, pleaded with them
in behalf of the outcast, and showed them how, by receiving her back, they
might yet save her from further disgrace. These pleadings were not in
vain. The girl returned to her parents' roof, abandoned her old evil ways,
and is to-day the wife of a lawyer, loyal and true.
This story, which is in every particular a fact, carries with it, I think,
its own moral. Ben's efforts in behalf of a friendless and outcast woman
saved her from a life of shame and made her a respected and happy wife. If
the example would be followed more often, there would be less of
wretchedness and woe in this world.
When the races were first held at Parker's, they brought a rich harvest to
Ben's place. He, in connection with Newell, Leo, and a few other sporting
characters, followed up the races to Jamestown, where Newell ran a faro
bank. Ben, who carried with him five thousand dollars in cash, loaned five
hundred dollars for the game. But when this was lost, he refused to
advance any more, having a suspicion that Leo was not dealing a perfectly
square game. Although Ben himself had no interest whatever in the bank, he
was arrested just as he was boarding the steamer, by a deputy sheriff, who
informed him that he must go to the lock-up with him. The deputy's plan
was really to bleed Hogan, whom he knew to be the moneyed man of the
party. The bleeding, however, was on the other side of the house, for Ben
drew off and dealt the deputy a blow which caused his nose to bleed with
unpleasant freedom. He didn't care to attempt any more bleeding just then.
All this time that Ben remained in Parker's, Kitty was accustomed to make
occasional trips to Cleveland, presumably on business, but really to meet
an old flame which she had in that city. Ben was altogether ignorant of
this little liaison, and it would no doubt have caused him both anger and
chagrin had he known that Kitty's business trips, which cost from three to
four hundred dollars each, were made for the express benefit of some other
fellow. This was one of the instances where Ben himself had the wool
pulled over his eyes.
The want of space prevents me from dwelling longer upon our hero's career
in Parker's. Altogether he had a lively time of it, and a volume might be
written upon the occurrences of those three years. I must hasten on to
describe how Ben finally left Parker's Landing.
He had gone to Pittsburg one day, and there, while standing in front of
George Leavenworth's saloon, in conversation with Booke, a telegraphic
message was put into his hands. Upon opening the envelope Ben read the
startling news that his place at Parker's was in flames.
He handed the message to Booke. The latter, who owned the best hotel in
Parker's, in close proximity to Hogan's house, turned a little pale at the
announcement. Ben, however, received it with his usual coolness, and
simply sent back a telegram telling them to save his piano, and let the
rest go. He lost no time, of course, in getting back to Parker's. On
reaching the town, he found that his house had been saved by the
promptness of the citizens, who had turned out _en masse_ to extinguish
the fire.
Although Ben had no positive proof, he was fully convinced in his own mind
that his place had been set on fire by some of the men who had long been
hostile to him. One of these, Casey by name, he met in the street, and
accused him point blank of firing his house. Casey undertook to turn off
the matter with a laugh.
"You can laugh," said Ben, shaking his finger in the man's face, "but
there's a good deal of strain about that laugh. You and your gang fired
the house, and you know about it!"
Again Casey laughed and tried to deny the accusation.
It may be mentioned that some time afterward, when Ben was living in
Petrolia, this same Casey became one of his staunchest friends, and just
two weeks before he was burned to death on the Allegheny river, he made a
clean confession, telling Hogan that it was he indeed who had fired the
house.
Shortly after the above occurrence, a new constable was elected in the
town of Parker's--he had been a blacksmith originally--and through the
instrumentality of this official, indictments were found against Hogan for
selling liquor without a license. Ben immediately called upon his old
friend, the Judge, accompanied by Joe Smith, as bail. He told the judge
that before the election of the new constable, he had paid the District
Attorney one hundred dollars to prevent any suits against him. He further
said that he was willing to stand a trial, but that he should insist upon
pleading his own case.
"What do you want to do that for?" asked the judge.
"Because," answered Ben, "I mean to show up some things that will astonish
the natives. I mean to prove that there is a corrupt ring in the courts of
this county, formed for the purpose of bleeding everybody it can. I shall
not have to go outside of the court to get all the witnesses I want. And
if the case is ever tried, there will be a good many other fingers burned,
besides mine!"
Under the circumstances, the Judge thought it advisable that the suit
should not be pressed. He placed Ben under five hundred dollars bonds, Joe
Smith becoming the surety. The case was never called, and Ben soon after
removed from Parker's.
[Illustration: _SCENE IN THE PITTSBURG HOUSE._]