On a fine autumn day, thirty years ago, on El Paso street, where the
Mundy Block now stands, Gaylord J. Clarke and B. F. Williams were shot
to death within a few moments of each other and within a few feet of
each other.
In order that the reader may understand the causes which led up to these
tragedies I will give a brief sketch of the career of each of the four
men most directly connected with the quarrel or quarrels and their
relation to each other and to the writer. Clarke was a New York man who
had been my college chum, and the most intimate friend of my early
manhood. At the age of twenty-four he was elected to a _State_ office in
New York. Later he had gone to Nebraska in the hope of some day
representing that _State_ in the United States Senate. In 1867 he wrote
me that he had failed in everything and was destitute. I sent him the
means to come to El Paso, gave him an appointment in the Customs House,
and later I sent for his wife and child. Clarke was a scholar, a lawyer
and at the time of his death was Judge of the El Paso District. He was a
Republican.
B. F. Williams came to El Paso about the time that Clarke came. He was
also a lawyer, had served in the Confederate army and was a Democrat.
Albert H. French was a Boston man, who had gone to California in his
youth and had come to El Paso in 1863 as a Captain of California
Volunteers, had married there and was a peace officer of the county.
A. J. Fountain has been mentioned elsewhere in these pages.
The quarrels grew out of an election held about a year previous, in
which Clarke and French supported Hamilton for Governor and myself for
the Legislature; Fountain and Williams leading the opposition. The
county seat was at San Elizario, and the whole county voted there, the
election lasting four days, and was held under military supervision. I
here show what occurred. Judge French wrote me:
“After the battle, December 4th, 1869.
“Dear Mills: We won the election, but the first night, we having one
hundred and forty-three to their forty-eight votes, they opened the box
and scratched our one hundred and forty-three votes for themselves.
Fountain’s name represents yours on the scratched tickets. I have sworn
two hundred and seventy-seven men who voted for you. You got only one
hundred and thirty-four as counted. Yours,
French.”
(French was at the time County Judge.)
Clarke wrote me from El Paso, I being at Austin assisting in the
management of Hamilton’s campaign:
“Whole number of Hamilton tickets polled, two hundred and seventy-three;
number as declared by registrars, one hundred and twenty-two. A majority
of our tickets were scratched clear through and changed to Davis
candidates. As ever yours,
“Gaylord J. Clarke.”
Lieutenant Verney, who presided over this election, was for other
offences dismissed from the army a few years later. Our Legislative
District, which had three Representatives, was comprised of a dozen
counties and extended from El Paso to the Gulf of Mexico. Col. Nelson
Plato of Brownsville and myself were running as Independent Republicans
on the Hamilton ticket, and were fairly elected by the people, but the
fraud in El Paso County and other places defeated us and gave the seats
to those called “Regular Republicans.”
Davis was inaugurated Governor and Fountain was all powerful at the
State Capital.
But now trouble began for the victors. Williams believed that by
supporting Davis and Fountain and aiding to defeat and otherwise injure
me he had earned the Judgeship of the El Paso District, which was at the
disposal of Fountain. But Fountain, always inexplicable, had other
plans. He conceived an idea that it would be a good move to placate at
least one gentleman and at the same time win away from me my friend, and
so, to the surprise of everybody, he tendered the Judgeship to Clarke,
and it was accepted.
It has been falsely stated that Clarke forsook me for office, but I
quote here a brief note from him, written to me _after_ he became Judge:
“Dear William: There are some things I would give much to talk to you
about, but dare not write. They concern me closely and you, so far as
regards your interests in this valley, but I defer them. When will you
return home? Direct your letters for me _under cover_ to D. C. B., Fort
Davis. As ever yours, Gaylord.”
The directing of letters “under cover” to mutual friends was to prevent
their being stolen by the El Paso postmaster, who was of the Fountain
faction.
Williams, by no means a well-balanced man, became furious and desperate
at what he claimed to be, and what probably was, bad faith. He was
particularly bitter toward Fountain and Clarke. He drank deeply and
threatened terribly, and in his ravings declared that he had helped to
“down” a better man than either of them.
In this state of mind on the day mentioned Williams went into Dowell’s
saloon and fired a pistol shot at close range at Fountain’s left breast.
Fountain’s life was saved by his watch and his legs. He ran to Judge
Clarke’s house and asked protection and demanded that Williams be
immediately arrested. Clarke was a firm believer in “the majesty of the
law.” He summoned a posse, consisting of E. A. Mills, John Evans,
Johnnie Hale, John Gillett and J. A. Zabriskie, the District Attorney,
and went to Williams’ quarters where Williams, being inside, had locked
and bolted all the doors. French was there as a policeman. He went to
the rear of the house to prevent Williams from escaping that way.
Admittance being refused, the posse commenced to batter down the door.
Then Williams came out, bare-headed, and leveled his shotgun at Judge
Clarke, who stood very near. Clarke did not move, but said two or three
times: “Don’t you dare, Williams! Don’t you dare!” Williams fired and
Clarke staggered a few steps toward his home, then fell and died in a
few moments without speaking. French, hearing the shot, came immediately
upon the scene, and finding Williams still armed and running “_amuck_,”
shot him twice with his pistol, and Williams died in about an hour.
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