This was before the days of “Retrenchment and Reform.”
Now came one of my hardest battles. My term of four years as collector
of customs at El Paso, under Lincoln, was about to expire, and there was
objection to my reappointment—_there always is_—but in this case there
was a serious charge of misconduct in office to the effect that I had
permitted the exportation of large quantities of arms and ammunition
from my district into Mexico to be used against the French, in violation
of the instructions from my own Government and the neutrality laws; and
“on the face of the returns” the charge appeared to be true, and my
enemies believed my defeat _certain_.
Andrew Johnson was President. When I called on him, with some friends,
to make my formal application, we met, by an awkward accident, a
delegation of my enemies, and we “had it out” then and there. I stated
my own case, and though the President was noncommittal, I felt sure of
reappointment, though my friends did not. A few days afterward, when
Judge Watts was talking to the President on other subjects, the
President said: “Judge, where is your young friend from Texas? Is this
his appointment which I signed to-day?” When told that it was, he said:
“I intended from the first to appoint him. I like that young man.”
In the Senate there was opposition to my confirmation. Senator Conness
of California made a sensational speech against me in executive session,
and presented what he called “proof.” I saw the Senator personally and
made some explanations, which it is not necessary, or proper, to repeat
here, and he withdrew his opposition and moved my confirmation, and I
was unanimously confirmed.
In May, 1866, the President’s private secretary, Col. Henry Cooper,
asked the Texas Republicans then in Washington to agree upon some Texan
to be appointed “Visitor to West Point.”
These appointments are strictly Presidential, not requiring confirmation
by the Senate, and are much desired and sought after, being considered a
high honor and a special favor from the chief executive of the nation.
We met and selected a very distinguished Texan, Judge George W. Paschal,
and sent up his name.
A few days later Colonel Cooper said to one of our friends: “The
President does not like the selection of Paschal. He says he is going to
appoint Mills. Tell Mills to come and see him.” I called and thanked the
President, and had some conversation with him, but later gave my
brother, Capt. Anson Mills, a letter to the President, requesting him to
substitute his name for mine, which was done.
I have known and conversed with four Presidents—Lincoln, Johnson, Grant
and McKinley—and have held office under all of them; but I knew Andy
Johnson best, and I liked the rugged, stubborn Southerner, who had stood
firm as a rock against rebellion in his own section. If I had been
older, or bolder, I am vain enough to believe I might possibly have been
of service to him. He had inherited his Cabinet from Mr. Lincoln, and
some of them were, from the start, not very devoted to him personally.
He was being flattered and cajoled by his late enemies, and he had been
fretted and angered by certain Republican leaders, “wise men of the
East,” who believed that no good could come out of Nazareth, and he was
about to make the mistake of his life—_the break with his party_. I was
pleased when, years later, he came to the United States Senate,
supported by the votes of his best and truest friends—the Union people
of Tennessee.
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