On previous pages I have mentioned this character as “Uncle Ben” Dowell,
the postmaster. He was a Kentuckian, who served through the war with
Mexico, and at its close settled at El Paso in the “forties” and married
at Ysleta.
He was an illiterate man, but of great force of character. One day in
the early “fifties” he did good work by killing, in a street fight, a
desperado who was known to have broken into the Customs House and robbed
the safe and who, with a party of men like himself, was defying the
authorities. Dowell and I became friends, but when the question of
secession arose he went wild on that subject and was, in part,
responsible for my arrest as an “abolitionist,” and we were bitter
enemies for several years.
He left El Paso with the retreating Texans just before we (the Union
troops) took possession of that place in 1862. He returned to Juarez,
and we met there several times but did not speak to each other. Finally
Dowell wrote me a letter (printed below) which led to a renewal of our
friendship, which continued till his death:
“Paso Del Norte (Juarez), Mexico, October 12th, 1864.
“Mr. W. W. Mills: Dear Sir—You may think strange to receive a
communication from me, but as circumstances alter cases I will proceed
with my subject. I left Sherman, Texas, on the 27th day of December last
with the intention of making my way, if possible, to El Paso, as I did
not think my life safe in Texas out of the Confederate ranks, which
service did not suit me. I came here with the full intention of crossing
over to El Paso to live, if I could get admission by complying with all
that might be required of a citizen. But when I arrived here I commenced
to talk with some old friends, and changed my notion for a time. I am
now tired of living a dog’s life, and I wish to live on your side of the
river.
“I hope you will pass over in forgetfulness any hard feelings you might
have entertained toward me, and report favorably to the commanding
officer at your post. Please let me hear from you by the bearer, and let
this communication be confidential, and oblige, yours, etc.,
“B. S. DOWELL.”
This letter was brought to my office by Uncle Ben’s little daughter
Mary, and I immediately replied that I would be his friend, and without
consulting the commanding officer, Col. George W. Bowie, I invited
Dowell to come to my house. He came the next day, bringing his very
valuable race mare, the apple of his eye, and he told me that his
brother “Nim,” whom I also knew, was a Union man and had attempted to
escape from Texas and had been followed and killed by the Confederates.
While we were talking over old times and thinking no harm a file of the
guard appeared at my door and informed me that they had orders to take
Dowell to the guard house and his mare to the Government corral.
I was, of course, indignant. What? Federal bayonets shoved into _my_
door after all that I had gone through? In this frame of mind I called
on Colonel Bowie and gave him what in these days might be called “a song
and dance.” I told the Colonel that Dowell was ready to take the oath
prescribed in President Lincoln’s amnesty proclamation, but he replied
that he would not permit his adjutant to administer the oath, but out of
consideration for me he would permit my friend to return to Mexico with
his mare. He went, but the following day I wrote out the proper paper
for Dowell and he swore to it before Henry J. Cuniffe, United States
Consul at Juarez, and I took my friend and introduced him to Colonel
Bowie as a fully fledged American citizen!
The Colonel gracefully acknowledged that he was beaten, and Dowell
remained with us. Dowell owned some desirable town lots in El Paso,
which were saved from confiscation by his timely oath of allegiance.
These lots were of little value at the time, but he managed to hold them
till the advent of the railroads and the first El Paso boom, so that he
lived poor and died wealthy.
The Dowell race mare proved useful; and here I state some facts of which
I am neither proud nor ashamed. Uncle Ben assured me that she could
outrun any quarter nag that would come to El Paso, and we formed a
partnership under which he furnished the animal and the “horse sense”
and I the money for the stakes. The race track was nearly along the line
of West Overland street, the outcome being at its junction with El Paso
street. Race animals were brought from California, New Mexico and
Colorado to contest with us, and in four years we won several thousand
dollars _without losing a race_.
I withdrew from the partnership and quit all such business after my
marriage in 1869.
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