CAMP ON THE CAPITOL GROUNDS.
Thursday morning, July 5th, the weary members of the First Regiment
were awakened from a comfortless sleep on the hard floor by the
catcalls and shrieks of the early birds. Company F was quartered on
the band-stand, and, from this point of vantage, sent up yells that
would wake the dead; and clear and loud above all were heard the
strident tones of Tommy Eggert. Sleep was out of the question, not to
say dangerous, for soon bands of practical jokers were roaming around,
like lions, seeking whom they might devour. Private Hayes discovered
Sergeant Sturdivant in slumber sweet, his lengthy form enveloped in an
immaculate and frilled nightgown, his tiny pink feet (he wears 10’s)
incased in dainty worsted slippers fastened with pink ribbons; this was
too much. Did he think he was at the Palace Hotel? If he even dreamed
of such a thing he was soon to receive a rude awakening. Willing hands
seized the blanket on which he lay, and he was yanked out into the
middle of the floor. He awoke to find himself surrounded by a howling
mob of men, while shouts of laughter filled the hall. What became of
the nighty-nighty and those slippers is a mystery; for a number of
the souvenir fiends of the company went on a still hunt for those
articles, but all in vain, they were never seen afterwards. Ben soon
learned to sleep with his clothes on like the rest of the crowd.
Renewed confidence and security filled the rank and file when it was
learned that we had received a strong reinforcement in the person of
the old (young) Veteran Corporal Lew Townsend.[1]
[1] Corporal Lew R. Townsend is the veteran of the National Guard of
California. He is 62 years of age, and has been in constant active duty
for 40 years. He joined the First California Guard on July 12, 1854,
and was transferred on January 30, 1857, to the City Guard. He remained
a member of this organization until April, 1866, the date of the
organization of the California National Guard, when it became Company B
of the First Regiment Infantry, N. G. C. Lew continued his membership
with this latter organization, and at present wears 13 service stripes,
which show that he has served 39 years. On September 14th, 1894, he
enlisted again, giving him credit for over 40 years of service.
Lew’s motto is “I’ll stay with the boys,” and he is the biggest boy in
the crowd himself. Though his feet are going back on him a little, he
manages to air his numerous medals, and bejeweled gun at all parades
and military displays, and never misses a drill. He is still a good
shot, and on Sunday morning, when his Palace Hotel breakfast agrees
with him, makes the eyes of the youngsters over at the Shell Mound
shooting range stick out of their heads at his remarkable shooting. May
his kindly, jolly face be ever with us.
Soon the question of breakfast became of vital interest, and the faces
of the boys grew very serious at the thought of a repetition of the
heavy breakfast of the day before. But there were better things in
store for us. The company received the order to “fall in,” and was
marched to one of the downtown hotels, where a good meal was served.
Thus fortified, we were ready for any thing, from playing marbles
to killing a man. At this meal a nice large size linen napkin was
placed at the plate of each man. Hereby hangs a tale. Handkerchiefs
and towels were scarce. The boys had already been so well imbued with
the principle of “taking,” by the illustrious and industrious example
of Quartermaster Arthur Clifford, the great exponent of the art “of
acquiring,” that seldom was a napkin seen again by any of the company
on a Sacramento hotel dining-table. The honesty and rectitude of Van
Sieberst must here receive special mention, his response to the call
to serve his country was so hurried that he failed to supply himself
with the necessary handkerchiefs and towels; but his fertile brain soon
found a way out of this difficulty. He took a napkin, or, when such was
not available, a roller towel from the hotel in the morning, used it
all day as handkerchief and towel, but--here is where honesty became
the best policy--returned the soiled article at supper, appropriated a
clean one, and then, at night, slept that calm and peaceful sleep which
the just alone enjoy.
After breakfast we were marched back to the hall, and there, for a few
delightful hours, disported ourselves in its cool area. This hall and
the depot were the only cool spots in Sacramento. Scientists may rave
about the spots on the sun, but a cool spot was the only spot that
interested the ’Frisco boys while at Sacramento. The hope that we might
continue to be quartered in this hall, was soon to be dispelled. The
order came to fall in, and, after the usual ceremonies, the regiment
was turned over to Colonel Sullivan, who made a short speech, in which
he praised the conduct of the men the day before. The failure of
the National Guard to accomplish its purpose could not, he said, be
attributed to the lack of loyalty on the part of the First Regiment.
He further stated that we would at once march over to the lawn of the
Capitol where tents would be pitched, and camp established.
During the campaign the men were inflicted with all kinds of oratory.
The number of speeches made would do credit to a political campaign,
both as to quantity and quality. Colonel Sullivan started the flow of
oratory at the armory with his dramatic and forcible “shoot to kill”
speech. We had many speeches from him afterwards that ranged from the
sublime to the pathetic. Who of us will ever forget the 4th of July,
when we stood like Spartans under a blazing sun, listening to the
oratory of Marshal Barry Baldwin and the strikers, who held forth from
the top of an engine-cab. Major Burdick, many think, came next; but our
boys say Captain Cook. We think they stand about even. Major Burdick’s
speeches were longer; but, though Captain Cook spoke oftener (he gave
us a rattle every morning before breakfast) and his speeches were just
as long in point of time--he said less. A number expressed the opinion
that these gentlemen were just practicing the art of spouting, to be in
good condition to take an active part in the political campaign which
would be inaugurated a few months later.
[Illustration: CO. “B” STREET, CAPITOL GROUNDS, SACRAMENTO, CAL.]
The regiment was then marched to the Capitol grounds, where tents were
pitched on the nice, smooth, green lawn. It was afterwards rumored
throughout the camp that this was done despite the objections of
General Allen, who wanted the camp pitched on the plowed and broken
ground just beyond the lawn. Our good General would not entertain the
proposition; considering the comfort and welfare of his men of far more
importance than the lawn. Hearing this rumor, the poet laureate of the
company, after three days of close application, hard study, and great
mental exertion produced the following poetic gem:
Then up spoke General Allen; his voice was fierce and loud,
“Your men must leave this grassy lawn, there is a field just plowed.
It is more meet to send them there; why should the rank and file
Have access around the Capitol, or its green lawns defile?”
Thus spoke the doughty warrior from Missouri’s classic plains;
But a peal of scornful laughter he got for all his pains.
For General Dickinson uprose, and raised on high his hand,
And said: “The gallant soldiers I am honored to command
Shall fare as is befitting our boys so brave and true,
Despite of martinets, whose forte is dress parade review.”
We hailed our dashing General with a hearty three times three,
And Allen of Pike county merged into obscurity.
It was at this juncture that the disciples of Mickey Free, made famous
by Charles Lever, made themselves conspicuous, led by William Tooker,
the quietest man that ever sold a brogan, they nestled down amid
the blankets and comforters that were piled beneath the trees, and
gazed with dreamy eyes, through the curling smoke of the ever present
cigarette, at their toiling companions erecting the tents under the
hot sun. During the day, between the heat and flies, these tents were
practically uninhabitable.
While the men were thus busily engaged the busy mind of Quartermaster
Clifford was filled with thoughts of the noonday meal; where was it
to come from? The regimental commissary department was established in
rather a condensed form under a large tent about one hundred feet to
the right of the regiment. The men had worked up quite an appetite, and
if there is any thing a Guardsman likes to do it is to eat. Clifford’s
experience had taught him this, and he resolved that the boys should
get what was coming to them, and as much more as he could take. Their
confidence in him must not be misplaced. He carelessly strolled over to
the commissary’s tent and inquired of the assistant commissary, what
time he would call for Company B’s rations; he was informed that as
soon as enough sandwiches were made for the regiment each company would
get its portion. _As soon as they had made enough sandwiches to feed
the regiment!_ This remark set Clifford thinking. It was now 11:30 A.
M. and one man making sandwiches for about four hundred half-starved
soldiers. Let us see when a “City Guard” man is not hungry; it is
quite an easy matter for him to put away four family size sandwiches;
then, there are Dick Radke, Frech, Overstreet, Townsend, and a few
others who are good for about nine each. That man making sandwiches was
likely to be about two thousand years old when he would have his job
finished. How to give the boys their lunch at 12 o’clock under these
circumstances was a problem that puzzled him deeply; there were several
knives lying around, he could take one; but what good would be a knife
without the stuff to cut? There was plenty of bread and beef, but
should he commit the larceny of them, what would it avail him without a
knife to cut and carve with?--
“And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng,
Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along.”
Thus ruminating he was disturbed by a sentry who told him that only
those connected with the regimental commissary department were allowed
there; he must therefore go. Clifford went--about three feet--and stood
with his eyes resting on a pile of tinware, which was also to be issued
proportionately with the rations. Something must be done; he must get
on the inside track some way. His experience told him that some company
was going to get left when the distribution took place, and never
should it go down in history that Company B would be that company.
No; not while he was quartermaster. His reputation was at stake, he
must now, if ever, display the great power, spirit, and desire for
“_taking_” that surged and swelled within his manly breast, only
awaiting the opportunity to burst its bounds, and acquire every thing
in sight.
But how to get on the inside--ah! an idea strikes him, and he
immediately busies himself helping the lonely sandwich-maker.
Commissary Sergeant Fitzgerald appears upon the scene and asks Clifford
who gave him a position in his sandwich manufactory. Clifford evaded
the question by humbly venturing his opinion that it would take all
day to make sandwiches for the whole regiment; and why not issue the
rations in bulk to each company and let them make their own sandwiches.
“A good idea” said the commissary sergeant; and for the suggestion
Clifford was allowed to take his company’s rations, which consisted of
10 ℔ corned beef, 5 ℔ cheese, 1 large bologna sausage, 1 roll butter,
12 loaves bread, and last, but not least, the apple of every good
soldier’s eye, a keg of hop juice. The stores issued were 2 tin buckets
and 20 tin cups.
Clifford began to take the rations, and when he finished _taking_ an
inventory of the contents of the capacious chest in his tent, it was as
follows: 15 ℔ corned beef, 10 ℔ cheese, 2 large bologna sausages, 2
rolls butter, 18 loaves bread, 8 buckets, 40 tin cups, 2 coffee-pots,
3 dozen each tin plates, knives and forks, 2 large knives, 1 bucket
sugar, and 1 bucket coffee. It was a glorious _take_, a splendid
beginning, and well might our quartermaster gaze on the results of his
industry and activity with pride, feeling that he had done his whole
duty.
[Illustration: CAPT. I. B. COOK LIEUT E. C. LUNDQUIST LIEUT. G. FILMER]
For a while Clifford had clear sailing; he was on the inside track;
was admitted to the ground floor, so to speak; but on a fatal day the
regimental commissary ran short of butter, and the different company
quartermasters were notified to that effect. This did not phase
Clifford; from the cavernous depths of his chest he produced a roll of
rich golden butter; and the gastronomical wheels of the boys’ insides
were as liberally greased as if the regimental commissary had tons of
butter. Not so with the members of the other companies, the sandwiches
that were wont to slip down their throats when well buttered now
rasped tissues and membranes in a most painful manner; a great howl
was sent up thereat, and a still greater howl when it was discovered
that B’s men had butter. The other company quartermasters thinking the
regimental commissary was unjustly discriminating in favor of Company
B made a great kick to Fitzgerald. Company B have butter, impossible!
They received no butter from him, this mystery must be solved,
he straightway swooped down on Clifford, and taking him unawares
discovered the well-filled condition of his larder, there he saw many
things whose disappearance from his quarters puzzled him not a little,
he had discovered the leak in his stores, and ever afterwards Clifford
was looked upon with a suspicious eye. Whenever he was seen approaching
the commissary department, Fitzgerald immediately made a hasty
inventory of everything in sight, and when anything disappeared he was
off like a flash to see if Clifford had it. From this on Clifford had
an uphill fight--a fight in which he was invariably victorious.
Our regiment was camped about two hundred yards in the rear of the
Capitol, on the line of L street, the Third Regiment was camped the
other side of the park, about one hundred yards from the First. General
Dickinson declared the camp closed, sentries were posted, and no one
was allowed to leave or enter the camp without a special permit.
The Captain’s tent was at the head of B street, and he shared its
occupancy with First Lieutenant E. C. Lundquist, better known as
“easy” and Lieutenant George (Chesterfield) Filmer, famed for his
shapely form and the cut of his Prince Albert coat. All three officers
were loved by every man in the company, and the same feeling of
confidence that was felt by the men in their officers was felt by the
officers in the men.
[Illustration: CHAS. PERRY FIRST SERGT. A. F. RAMM CORP. J. N. WILSON
H. F. POWLESON WM. OVERSTREET]
Tent crowds were now formed, and the leaders drew lots for the tents to
which they were to be assigned.
The first tent was occupied by First Sergeant A. F. Ramm. He never
sleeps, sometimes they think he is asleep, but he has always one eye
open, handsome Corporal J. N. Wilson, W. L. Overstreet, with his hair
parted at the equator, Charles Perry, hot soldier, straight and
strong, and keeper of the key.[2] H. F. Powelson, happy-go-lucky,
never worried, William Tooker, with a pronounced aversion for work and
William Unger, the veteran. Later on this tent crowd was joined by the
alleged Dutch comedian, Dr. W. H. Sieberst.
[2] During the last Santa Cruz camp Perry, who was experiencing his
first military camp, became the victim of an aged and time-honored
joke. He was told that the firing of the gun announcing sunrise
could not be accomplished unless the key was found; he was hurriedly
dispatched in search of it. He was sent from one to another, and
finally applied to Adjutant Williams for the key of the gun. While
still pursuing his search the report of the gun filled the air;
thinking they had found the key he paid no more attention to the
matter, until he was apprised that a practical joke had been played
on him by reading an account of it in the papers, at the same time
receiving from friends in the city a highly ornate and polished
hardwood key.
[Illustration: SERGT. A. H. CLIFFORD MUSICIAN, WM. DE LOS MURPHY
MUSICIAN, SERGT. WM. H. SIEBERST WM. H. O’MALLEY]
Tent No. 2 contained a homogenous mixture of mankind. Quartermaster
Sergeant A. H. Clifford heads the list, with his taking ways, a man
who took for the sake of taking, who considered the right of taking a
sacred one, and exercised that right at all times much to the benefit
of the company’s larder; it is said of him that he would rather take
than receive; William De Los Murphy, musician, “my name is my fortune,
sir,” he said; W. W. Wilson, another musician who has the honor of
having his name on the City Guard’s muster-roll; R. E. Wilson, with
his bosom friend H. Gille, known in the Keeley Club as Antonelli, the
irresponsible, with a holy and righteous dread of water, and always on
guard; Van Sieberst, always out for fun and fond of his tea, a very
busy man around a keg of beer. This tent crowd received considerable
tone from its association with F. J. Monahan, the society leader
familiarly known as “lengthy.”
[Illustration: H. FRECH JAS. WEAR F. SHULA WM. J. HAYES MUSICIAN PAUL
RUPP GEO. HEIZMAN CORP. LEW TOWNSEND]
[Illustration: SAM. WISE JOS. KEANE ROBT. WILLIAMS P. J. KENNEDY CORP.
B. E. BURDICK HENRY LANG]
There were only six married men among the privates of the company.
Three of them were in No. 3 tent. This alone would be enough to
distinguish this tent from the others without making mention of the
gallant soldiers it contained. Corporal Burtis, always strictly
business, and a bad man to try to bluff, when he has a gun in his hand.
W. H. Hayes, Secretary of the Keeley Club, who grew a very red whisker
and wanted to look real hard, and he did; A. H. Frech, as model a
little soldier as ever the _Vaterland_ produced, awfully particular,
cleaning and polishing all the time; Frank Shula, who laughs to grow
fat, has been very successful in doing so; his snore is a thing that
has to be heard in order to be appreciated, he laughs all day and
snores all night; Paul Rupp, full of yarns in connection with his
service in Kaiser Wilhelm’s army, is one of our married men. He is a
musician, but later on rises to the position of chief cook. Jimmy Wear
and George Heizman, fitting comrades for Paul Rupp are also married
men. The way these poor wifeless men clung together during the campaign
was pathetic, there seemed to be a bond of sympathy between them, and
in a quiet sort of way they consoled each other; they slept together
on the same blanket, and partook together their humble meals. Each
day they dispatched a tender missive to the loved one far away. Last,
but not least of all, there was Lew Townsend, and between him and the
three married men the rest of the crowd in this tent narrowly escaped
demoralization.
[Illustration: WM. FLANAGAN MUSICIAN J. GILKYSON WM. CROWLEY W. S.
MCKAIG WM. MCM. D. O’BRIEN SERGT. W. N. KELLY P. BANNAN]
[Illustration: F. J. SINDLER CORP. AL. MCCULLOCH G. RADKE H. ADAMS
THOS. MCCULLOCH M. CLAUSSENIUS GEO. CLAUSSENIUS]
The fourth tent was known as the Keeley tent. Under the canvas covering
of this tent the great leaders of the Keeley Club held forth. The high
priest of the inner circle of the flowing bowl was Harry J. Lang and
his assistant was P. J. Kennedy. The tent leader was none other than
the well-known celebrity, Corporal Benjamin Burdick; during the silent
watches of the night his still small voice would be heard telling of
hairbreadth escapes in far away India and lion hunts in the wilds of
Africa. Kennedy was dubbed the Yolo Farmer the second day at camp,
and he looked like one. The two Bohemians, Lang and Kennedy, were the
life of the company, Lang never knew a quiet moment; a most sunny
disposition, and as brave as a lion; he was well paired with his
comrade Kennedy. Sam Wise, an honorary member of the company was in
this tent. At the call to arms he offered his services to the company
commander, and they were gladly accepted. It is entrancing to sit
and hear him tell about the first thing he did when he went to work.
Sam’s working periods are so few and far apart that he has occasion
to remember every little detail concerning them. Joe Keane, the
basso barrello, with a faraway look in his eye; the little hero, Bob
Williams, and E. M. Stealey, who sang “A Soldier’s Life’s the Life for
Me--Not,” made up the balance of the crowd.
[Illustration: L. ZIMMERMAN A. C. GEHRET WM. BAUMGARTNER H. B. SULLIVAN
A. FETZ SERGT. B. B. STURDIVANT]
[Illustration: W. A. BESEMAN. SERGT. H. B. TAYLOR. J. BRIEN. T.
HAMMERSON. G. UNGERMAN.]
The fifth tent was called the Irish tent, headed by the Irish Sergeant
Walter Kelly, a splendid soldier and officer. Wm. Flanagan, good old
nine, we called him; a very active man when our daily keg of beer was
on tap. He claimed descent from one of Ireland’s famous kings. W. S.
McKaig, dubbed kinky on account of his curly hair, was always writing
letters when there would be any work to do. W. W. Crowley, the most
desperate looking character in the camp and as desperate as he looked.
Johnny Gilkyson, drummer and willing worker, had no use for a drum
when there was sterner work to do, and soon attached himself to a gun.
Phil Bannan, always quiet and passive, a disciple of Wm. Tooker’s and
quite a society man; Flanagan called him piano Irish and sneered at
his social aspirations. Wm. O’Brien, always ready to volunteer for
dangerous work, was the last, but not the least of this crowd. Upon
the hearts of the members of this tent was emblazoned the motto, “We
Love Our Sarg.”[3]
[3] Sergeant Kelly.
[Illustration: R. E. WILSON AL. HEETH H. C. CASEBOLT GEO. BOWNE. J.
MONAHAN W. W. WILSON E. M. STEALY]
Corporal A. McCulloch was the leader of tent No. six. This was the
intellectual tent. Beneath its classic folds weighty questions of state
were argued and settled. The crowd in this tent claim that nightly
they were lulled to rest by the voice of their learned corporal in
the throes of some mighty argument; through the long stretches of the
night when they would occasionally awaken they would still hear his
voice; as if he were engaged in some great controversy. Morning found
him awake, physically, but the restless brain had not slept, and now,
with freshened physical senses, he still continued his interminable
argument. But he had aids and abettors in the persons of Henry Adams
and R. L. Radke (all will recall the soldierly appearance of the
last-named gentleman). Radke the younger, Max and George Claussenius,
F. J. Sindler and H. C. Warren were the unfortunate and paralyzed
listeners.
The seventh tent was called the German tent. Sergeant Sturdivant, the
leader of this crowd, is so tall and thin, that it is a surprise to
him when he casts a shadow. He is quite a society man, and a favorite
among the ladies. Another social favorite, Humphrey Sullivan, is also
in this tent. He sings so sweetly that we enjoy it very much, more so
if he were accompanied by a brass band. In this tent we have two other
stars in the vocal line, Al Gehret, a basso, and William Baumgartner,
a tenor, who can reach high “C” without an effort. In this crowd was
Fetz the long, Zimmerman the short, also called Punch for short, and
A. Heeth, Jr., with whose kindly aid we kept our rags together. This
concludes the description of the tents of the enlisted men and their
occupants. Only a week previous these men won the Dimond trophy, at the
yearly encampment of the regiment, for being the best drilled and best
disciplined company in the camp.
After our return from supper at one of the hotels, on this first
evening, those who were weary sought the seclusion of their tents; the
rest gathered beneath the trees and sang of love, but not of glory.
Private Tooker sang “Sweet Marie” with such pathos and expression,
that a tear was seen to tremble on the eyelid of Overstreet, and then
silently wend its way down to the point of his nose, where it hung
suspended for a while as if reluctant to part from him and then fell
to the earth with a loud splash. Thus we whiled away the hours, till
the bugle’s mellow notes swelling on the midnight air and thrilling the
hearts of all with its sweet, solemn music, sang the call to rest, and
then all was still.
Thirty minutes had passed and gone; the brave and true were dreaming
of home and mother, when a wild yell rang out on the stilly air, and
sounds of conflict were heard coming from tents Nos. 3 and 4, occupied
by the Keeleys. Soon Corporal Townsend was seen beating a hasty retreat
in great disorder from No. 3 tent, in the direction of the captain’s
abode, where he reported that a well-planned effort was being made by
the Keeleys to kidnap Private Hayes of tent No. 3. Meanwhile exciting
scenes were being enacted in these tents. The kidnappers, headed by the
Yolo Farmer and the High Priest of the Keeleys, were endeavoring to
drag the person of Private Hayes into their tent, but Corporal Burtis,
assisted by Privates Frech, Shula, and the married men, Paul Rupp,
Jimmy Wear and George Heizman, did Trojan work. After a well-delivered
blow from Hayes that connected with the head of the High Priest, who
sent up a howl of pain, they were beaten off. The Yolo Farmer, however,
returned to the charge, bayonet in hand, but the voice of the Captain,
threatening a sojourn in the guard-tent, acted like oil upon troubled
waters, and soon the warring factions were at rest.
During the night Fetz of ours, who was doing sentry duty, by the
ominous click of his gun’s hammer and a threat to fire, resurrected
two festive soldiers out of the brush in which they were hiding,
preparatory to an attempt to get into camp unobserved. They were
gathered in and taken to the guard-tent, where for two days they
sweltered and sweltered. The spectacle these two young gentlemen
presented as, bucket in hand, they went through the streets gathering
up the refuse, under the vigilant eye of a sentinel, was a source of
great amusement to their comrades.
While camped on the Capitol grounds we had breakfast and supper at the
hotels, and luncheon at camp. Arrangements were made so that no more
than three companies would be away at any one time. As usual a number
found fault with the hotel fare, but a week later, when the regiment
had to do its own cooking, they would have been very glad to return to
it. At lunch we had all the fruit we wanted; corned beef was always on
the bill of fare; but the keg of beer, that accompanied it, reconciled
us. Then there was bread, bologna sausage, sometimes crackers, and
always cheese; altogether we fared very well during the week.
Friday morning, on our return from breakfast, Sergeant Kelly made a
motion, that the rule be established, whereby any who shaved during the
campaign would be fined a dollar.
The motion was seconded and carried unanimously. Sergeant Kelly was one
of the first to avail himself of the expensive luxury.
The City Guard boys had now settled upon a unique style of wearing
their hats, which distinguished them from the rest of the companies.
The hat was dented four times perpendicularly, bringing the crown to
a point; this, with the unshaven faces, and the long swinging stride
and step we kept while marching to and from town, made us particularly
noticeable, and many comments were passed on our appearance. We were
getting well seasoned for the hard work, which we were shortly to be
called upon to do, and which we hope we did well.
The newspaper reports about this time were giving the boys “that tired
feeling.”
In a previous chapter it has been told how disgusted the men were at
the failure to take the depot. Therefore you may judge their surprise,
on reading the accounts published in the newspapers of the same, to
see that the failure to accomplish good results was laid at the door
of the rank and file of the National Guard. The press was not the only
accuser of the men, but from another source in which the men expected
to find their vindication they received the “unkindest cut of all.”
Their general officers it was who said they could not take the depot,
because the men were demoralized and could not be trusted. Oh! what a
subterfuge! On the surface what is to be conveyed by such a statement?
Two alternatives present themselves. First, either the statement is
true, or, second, the position of the officers themselves was weak and
they desired to strengthen it by shifting the responsibility for the
failure from their shoulders to those of the rank and file. If this
latter course was the one pursued then they might have known, mighty
though they be in the National Guard, that the consequences of such a
course would be sure sooner or later, to redound with greater force
upon themselves, and that instead of their position being strengthened,
they would stand exposed in all their iniquity, stripped of the last
shred of defense.
Investigation proves that the latter alternative is the correct one.
The men, despite what comes from the press or by other sources, were
not demoralized or untrustworthy. Being demoralized is meant, we
should judge, that the troops were not under the strict control of
their officers, and that confusion and lack of discipline reigned in
ranks. At no time in the day did such a state of affairs prevail. It
is true that a number of the men were prostrated by the heat, but the
prostration extended only to a comparative few and not to the entire
body of men as given out in the reports of certain officers. Besides
this, the prostration came after the troops had stood in line under the
hot sun for something like three hours. The men were willing and ready
at any time that afternoon to attempt to force the strikers from the
depot. Never were they called upon to do a harder thing, or one in
which they felt more disposed to rebel against their officers, than
when they were ordered to withdraw from the scene and leave the depot
in charge of the strikers. There was not a squad of men in Company
B, and when I mention Company B, I mean also every company with one
possible exception, who would not willingly, even gladly have charged
the mob of strikers. Curses, not loud but deep, were uttered in each
company as they withdrew. In one of the companies under the command of
Colonel Nunan the men cried out to advance, but no order came. Tears of
vexation rolled down the cheeks of some of the men. To travel over a
hundred miles and then suffer defeat--oh! how humiliating--not at the
hands of the strikers, but from their own officers. And yet, in the
face of all this, the failure to take the depot was laid at their doors.
Who was to blame for the failure of the operations on the Fourth? It
remained for a court of inquiry to finally fix the blame upon the
shoulders it belonged. This court was appointed by Governor Markham,
September 8, 1894, to inquire into the conduct of those troops of
the National Guard participating in the strike campaign, from its
commencement to its close. The work of the court was to be performed
without regard to rank prejudices or preconceived ideas. The court sat
in session for a period of twenty days, and made a minute examination
into the operations on the Fourth. Its work was well done. In the
columns of one of our large dailies the following appeared:
“The court of inquiry has done its duty well--truthful, fearless,
unmoved by considerations of friendships. Our Californian experience
with investigating bodies had given us no right to expect this high and
honorable result, and it is entitled to a swift, signal, and memorable
approval by executive action.”
The court of inquiry showed plainly that the reports made by the
commanding officers of the National Guard, and the charges appearing in
the press concerning the demoralization and untrustworthiness of the
troops were utterly false; that the rank and file, with the exception
of two companies mentioned elsewhere,[4] “were at all times under good
discipline, and behaved with becoming courage and loyalty.” The court
further found that certain officers greatly magnified the reports
concerning the physical debility of the men. The court, in summing up,
says: “There were men in the ranks, plenty and willing to retrieve the
day, when at three o’clock, after standing patiently in the sun for
three hours, they received their first orders, which were to move off
and abandon the attempt to take the depot.” Thus the rank and file were
finally vindicated after being for some time the object for obloquy by
the public and press.
[4] One of these companies was a Sacramento company whose members were
mostly employed by the railroad and therefor in sympathy with the
strikers, in fact some of them were strikers. The other company was a
company of the Third Regiment. Concerning this latter company, there
are many extenuating circumstances. Had the officers remained with
their company there is no doubt but what it would have been as reliable
as any other.
The question, who was to blame for the failure on the Fourth, we
would gladly leave at this place unanswered were it not for the fact
that an implication is worse than an assertion. So we again refer to
the report of the court of inquiry. Here it is shown that, on that
memorable occasion, “General Sheehan refused to obey orders, directly
communicated to him by Major General Dimond, to effect an entrance
into the depot by force, and to fire upon the mob if they refused to
give way”; it was further shown, that when the officer, upon whom the
command of the Second Brigade had devolved, received distinct orders
from Major General Dimond to clear the depot, by force if necessary,
he left his command and urged the commanding General not to compel
him to obey the order, as his men were demoralized and could not be
relied upon. It was upon this representation that an armistice was
entered into between the United States marshal and the strikers.
Here we have the case in a nutshell. _No orders were given to the
troops to advance at any time that afternoon against the strikers._ A
spirit of hesitation prevailed amongst the commanding officers. When
decisive action should have been taken questions of constitutional
law were debated by them at length. Instead of an officer executing
the commands transmitted to him by a superior officer he would desire
to know where his superior officer received authority to give such an
order. Just think of it, men who have been occupying high places in
the National Guard for years, questioning at the time for action the
authority of their superior officers and preventing decisive action by
misrepresenting the condition and maligning the characters of their
men. This then was the cause of the failure of the operations on the
Fourth, and well has it been called the “Battle of Sheehan & Co’s
Bluff.”
The garbled manner in which the occurrences of the Fourth were
presented to the public by the press was disgusting to the last degree.
From their accounts one would think that the men could fire or use the
bayonet at will, instead of being a disciplined body under superior
officers, subject to their commands in the minutest particular, and
had no option but to obey orders, _when they received them_. The
inefficiency of the National Guard was the subject of editorials; and
it seemed to be a great disappointment to the press that the depot on
the Fourth was not a scene of frightful carnage. Had the order come to
fire the men would most certainly have fired, the result would have
been a slaughter, and then in the columns of every newspaper in the
country we would be branded as red-handed, bloodthirsty murderers. The
newspapers even went so far as to cast reflections on the loyalty of
the Guard; this to men who left their peaceful callings at the call
to arms, left their homes, severed every attachment, every business
connection, left weeping parents, wives, brothers and sisters, traveled
by night, marched by day, and stood under a broiling sun for hours,
ready to do the bidding of their superiors, and then to have their
loyalty brought into question, this was too much. One enterprising
Sacramento paper came out with the disquieting information “That it was
rumored the strikers were going to use dynamite, but, with discretion,”
that was comforting, they would use dynamite “_with discretion_.” The
brainy reporter then, to seek a confirmation or denial of the rumor,
called upon Mr. Knox, the leader of the strikers, and asked him if they
were going to use dynamite, with discretion; of course he said yes.
This is a fair sample of some of the ridiculous stuff published by the
papers. The general tone of what did seem reliable and probable brought
us to the conclusion that we had come to stay awhile, and that we would
soon have plenty of work.
We had now settled down to the regular routine of military camp life.
The mornings were devoted to guard mount, company drills, and battalion
drills in the extended order.[5] The men in these drills acquitted
themselves with a dash and celerity of movement that would do credit to
regular troops. The face of grim-visaged war was partly shown to the
people of Sacramento as the battalions of the First Regiment charged
across the Capitol grounds, amid wild yells and the rapid reports of
the Gatling gun from the far off corner of the grounds. They tore
through the plowed ground, through water, down deep gulleys, up again
on the other side, and under the blazing sun, continued the charge
through the brush, until recalled by the whistle of the commander. In
the afternoon we had dress parade. Crowds were drawn to the camp to
witness these imposing ceremonies.
[5] To illustrate the last-named drill photos have been introduced,
taken during the last camp at Santa Cruz, showing the line, firing by
squad, section, company, and the rapid fire by the entire battalion.
A line of sentries, with loaded pieces, was posted round the entire
camp day and night. Each day the company furnished a detail for guard
duty. The personnel of these details were as follows: Thursday, July
5th, Lieutenant E. C. Lundquist, Corporal J. N. Wilson, privates J.
Gilkyson, W. J. Flanagan, A. H. Frech, A. Fetz, H. G. Gille, A. C.
Gehret, P. J. Kennedy. Friday, July 6th, Sergeant B. B. Sturdivant,
privates Wm. De Los Murphy, A. Heeth, Jr., G. H. Heizman, J. S. Keane,
H. J. Lang, S. Wise, W. S. McKaig. Saturday, July 7th, Captain I. B.
Cook, Corporal B. E. Burdick, Corporal E. R. Burtis, W. D. O’Brien,
W. L. Overstreet, C. Perry, H. F. Powelson, R. L. Radke. Sunday, July
8th, privates G. H. Radke, H. Sullivan, E. M. Stealey, F. Shula, F.
J. Sindler, W. H. Tooker. Monday, July 9th, Lieutenant George Filmer,
privates Wm. Unger, R. E. Wilson, R. J. Williams, H. C. Warren, J. R.
Wear, L. Zimmerman. Tuesday, July 10th, privates H. H. Adams, P. L.
Bannan, F. Baumgartner, G. L. Claussenius, M. Claussenius.
[Illustration: WILLIAM UNGER, AS HE APPEARED WHILE IN THE HAWAIIAN
GUARD.]
[Illustration: CORPORAL EDWIN BURTIS.]
[Illustration: THE VIGILANTES AT WORK.]