Our merchandise and supplies were brought from St. Louis, a distance of
sixteen hundred miles, or from Port Lavaca, Texas, a distance of nine
hundred miles, by large trains of immense freight wagons, “Schooners of
the Plains,” drawn by fourteen to eighteen mules, usually four abreast,
at a cost of twelve and one-half to fifteen cents per pound for freight
only. These trains were usually accompanied by twenty-five to forty men,
including the drivers, all of whom were well armed, and stood guard like
soldiers.
The “wagonmaster” was a character of importance and authority, and a
hunter was usually employed to procure fresh meat and to look out for
Indians and for Indian “sign.” These trains, like the stage coaches,
were often attacked by Indians, but because of the greater number of men
and better means of defense, they were not so frequently “taken in” as
the latter.
I quote here the prices of a few of the articles purchased by me of El
Paso merchants during the “sixties,” having preserved the original
bills: One common No. 7 kitchen stove, $125; ham and bacon, 75 cents per
pound; coffee, 75 cents per pound; sugar, 60 cents per pound; lard, 40
cents per pound; candles, 75 cents per pound; one-half ream letter
paper, $4; nails, 50 cents per pound; matches, 12½ cents per box;
tobacco, $2 per pound; calico (print), 50 cents per yard; bleached
muslin, 75 cents per yard; unbleached muslin, 50 cents per yard; coal
oil, $5 per gallon; alcohol, $8 per gallon; lumber, rough sawed, 12½
cents per foot; empty whiskey barrels, $5 each; starch, 50 cents per
pound. But if we paid high prices, we also received high prices for what
we had to sell. I will here state briefly a few of my own business
experiences. I made large quantities of wine from the El Paso grape, and
sold it readily at $5 per gallon, $200 per barrel of forty gallons. For
two years I furnished the Government with all the vinegar and salt used
in the Military Department of New Mexico, vinegar at $1.70 per gallon,
and salt at 17 cents per pound, delivered at El Paso. Vinegar, four
thousand gallons, and salt, one thousand bushels. The vinegar was
manufactured from the El Paso grape, and the salt was brought from a
natural salt lake, one hundred and twenty-five miles northeast of El
Paso, and ground at Harts Mills, near El Paso, and sacked here.
The Government had previously been hauling these articles from St.
Louis, a distance of sixteen hundred miles. My partner, Don Juan
Zubiran, and myself one day delivered three hundred head of beef cattle
to the Government at Las Cruces, New Mexico, at 18 cents per pound on
the hoof—$90 per head. For a year I delivered beef on the block to the
troops at Fort Bliss at 22 cents per pound.
I will now give some items from the other side of my ledger. Three
hundred head of cattle belonging to my partner, Mr. Norboe, and myself
were taken by Indians in Arizona in 1865, and half of our herders
killed. These cattle were being driven to California, where there was
then a good market. A white man, also a partner, got away with $11,000
worth of my cattle at Fort Sumner, New Mexico, by selling them and
running away with the money.
Another partner, an honest man, died my debtor to the amount of $14,000.
This would not have occurred had the gentleman not become insane and
unable to settle his large and complicated business.
From the day of my first arrival at El Paso, I determined to make the
place my permanent home, and I have never had any desire to change that
choice. From the first I foresaw the prospective importance of the
place, and many a still, lonesome night have I listened to the roaring
of the waters over the dam at Harts Mill, a mile above the village, and
tried to fancy it the rumbling of railroad trains, which were then
fifteen hundred miles away. No, I do not claim to have foreseen that El
Paso would be the center of so many railroads, but I felt sure that the
first road to the Pacific Ocean would pass through El Paso, and _so it
would_, had it not been for the Rebellion. I would not claim to have had
this foresight, did not my letters to my friends during those early
years (some of which are still extant) bear out the statement. I
probably wrote more and spoke more about the certain future of El Paso
than any one who ever lived here. I did more. I proved my faith by my
acts. For ten years, amid all the folly and extravagance and vices of my
bachelor youth, I kept one object constantly in view: to acquire and
hold and pay taxes on a sufficient number of town lots to make me
reasonably independent when the railroads should come, and for a time I
owned more desirable property in El Paso than any other individual ever
owned except the proprietors of the town tract.
Well, the greater portion of this valuable property was taken from me by
corrupt courts and officials and by faithless lawyers and supposed
friends, and by other means which I may or may not refer to in these
writings. If any man says he would have defended himself and his rights
better or more courageously than I did, I can only reply that I think I
was fortunate to escape with my life! After all this, more than a
hundred strangers (who never owned enough of mother earth to be buried
in) have said to me: “You have been here a long time, Mr. Mills, and if
you had only known what El Paso would be you could have bought town
property very cheap and could have been wealthy,” etc., etc. Then, for a
moment, homicidal thoughts come into my mind. But it would do no good to
kill such a man. A fool or two more or less in the world, or even in a
community, would make no perceptible difference. There are so many!
It has been said these men of the frontier in those early days led
indolent, idle lives in a “Sleepy Hollow,” and that is true in a way.
The conditions were such that constant toil and endeavor were almost
impossible. A train of wagons would arrive from Mexico with silver or
other products and in a few days the El Paso merchant would sell or
exchange thousands of dollars’ worth of goods, and then for weeks he
might not have a customer worthy of his attention.
Another man would labor almost incessantly night and day for a time in
filling some Government contract, and then for months, perhaps, no other
opportunity would offer for the exercise of his energy. It was “enforced
idleness.” But in the long run these men expended as much effort,
physical and mental, in chasing the nimble dollar as the most plodding,
methodical Chicago business man of today.
Profits were often great and risks were always great. I do not think the
desire for money, for its own sake, was as strong as in older
communities, and this led to what we called liberality and what the wise
call extravagance. If any man had devoted all his energies to
accumulating and hoarding money he would have been viewed with disfavor
by his neighbors, and at that time men were in many ways dependent upon
the good will of their fellows.
If any gentleman did not care to bet on the horse race or to “sit in” at
the poker game, no one criticised his peculiarity, because each granted
to the other the right he claimed for himself, to do as he pleased about
such amusements. But if such a one gave out that he thus refrained
because he feared to set a bad example to others or because he feared
Divine wrath, his sincerity would have been doubted, and frankness and
candor were rated among the essential virtues.
Within the memory of men still living there occurred an incident which
illustrates men’s views of law and order in those days. A certain
desperado had been getting drunk and riding into stores and saloons and
firing his pistols at random in the streets and threatening people’s
lives, till the “good citizens” became weary. Finally he took a snap
shot at the popular member of the Legislature, Mr. Jeff Hall, on the
main street. This was too much. In a few moments fifteen or twenty of
the aforesaid “good citizens” were chasing him over town with shotguns,
rifles and pistols. The desperado was brought to earth in the corral of
the old Central Hotel—“Hell’s half acre”—pierced by many missiles. Then
there was an animated dispute among the above mentioned good citizens as
to who had fired the fatal shot. One claimed to have done the work with
his shotgun. Another said that such small ammunition at long range could
not kill such a man, but that it was his rifle shot in the neck that did
it. A third said that he had dispatched the deceased with three body
shots from his sixshooter, and so on.
At last “Uncle Ben” Dowell said: “Gentlemen, some day some judge or
other may come along and be holding court, and some of us may have
trouble about this business.” Thereupon they organized a coroner’s jury,
composed of the identical men who did the shooting, and sat upon the
corpse and agreed upon a verdict, to the effect that “Deceased came to
his death by gunshot wounds _from the hands of parties unknown_.”
It was about this time that an El Paso merchant, still living in this
valley, had a little experience with the rough Americans here, mostly
gamblers. There were many of the latter class.
At this time the fraternity were broke, and some of them had pawned
their pistols with this merchant for money. But finally one of them
reported to the “boys” that Mr. —— had refused to make any more loans on
pistols. “How did you approach him?” was asked.
“Why, I presented the handle of my pistol and asked him to loan me $25
on it.” “Idiot,” said “Snap” Mitchell, the leader, “you don’t know how
to soak a pistol; watch me.” So “Snap” went to the store and presenting
the _muzzle_ of his pistol asked for a loan. He got it, and went away
with the pistol also.
I believe my friend remembers the transaction. Later this same merchant
was called upon by a party of secessionists, who accused him of being a
—— abolitionist, and talked to him seriously about the penalty, which
was hanging. My friend was a foreigner and did not understand our
language as well as he does now. I asked him what he said to them when
they threatened to hang him, and he replied: “Well, I told them that I
had no ‘scruples’.” Of course, he meant that he had no preference for
either the Union or Confederate cause. It is certain that he did not
mean that he had no scruples about being hanged!
An officer of volunteers bought goods of this same merchant, refused to
pay him, swindled him, and because asked to pay called him a —— Jew and
other pet names, and finally sent him a formal challenge to fight a
duel. The merchant came to me greatly agitated, and declared that he
would rather die than suffer such indignities, and asked my advice. I
knew that he was in earnest, and the officer was notified to appear at
sunrise at the graveyard on the hill, distance ten paces,
double-barreled shotguns loaded with buckshot, to fire at the word. The
officer declined, declaring the terms “barbarous,” and that ended his
career as a valiant son of Mars.
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