RANDOLPH BETRAYED CONSPIRACY FOR REVOLT IN CALIFORNIA, AND
WROTE LETTER TO LINCOLN THAT CAUSED JOHNSTON’S REMOVAL.
I could not close this phase of the story without further reference
to Edmond Randolph, for I sincerely want to set him right. I said he
went mad. Everything later proved it. He not only committed the gravest
indiscretions, but in addition he, a Southern man, with a couple of
centuries of Southern traditions behind him, actually wrote a letter to
President Lincoln warning him of a vast conspiracy to carry California
out of the Union and questioning the trustworthiness of General
Johnston. Nothing but downright lunacy could have inspired the act.
This was sent to President Lincoln by pony express and reached him just
about the day of his inauguration. The story has been often printed
before or I would not revive it now. Its accuracy has indeed been
questioned by Randolph’s friends. I am inclined to believe it true.
As a consequence General E. V. Sumner was sent on a tug from New York
with sealed orders and placed on board a Pacific Mail steamer in
midocean. On the steamer the orders were opened. They directed him to
proceed to San Francisco and relieve General Johnston of the command of
the Department of the Pacific. History relates further that General
Sumner was taken from the steamer by a Government vessel outside
the Golden Gate, hurried to Alcatraz, where General Johnston had
headquarters, and, in a sensational manner, relieved him of his command.
The latter part is purest fiction. General Johnston never had
headquarters on Alcatraz. He lived with his family on Rincon Hill,
near the residence of Louis Garnett. Sumner arrived in San Francisco
on the steamer, publicly, like anyone else. General Johnston, informed
of his arrival, at once arranged for a conference and the two met in
perfect amity at the old army headquarters, located on Bush street, if
I recollect aright. The transfer of authority took place the next day.
There are abundant living witnesses to these facts. General Johnston’s
resignation was in President Lincoln’s hands long before Sumner reached
California and the same was accepted a few weeks later.
One of General Sumner’s first acts was to order arms from the arsenal
and organize patriotic citizens for an expected crisis. But they
were simply fighting windmills. The real crisis had disappeared of
itself two months before, through General Johnston’s firmness--and the
Comstock lode.
As a further proof of Randolph’s madness, he straightway developed
into an outspoken, rabid secessionist, made speeches of the most
inflammatory nature and it was highly significant that he escaped
imprisonment in Alcatraz. He died within the year, a physical and
mental wreck. In my humble judgment he deserves sincere pity, not blame.
That some one of important station wrote a mysterious letter to
President Lincoln which caused the retirement of General Johnson is
beyond dispute.
One of the versions of the story has never been published, to my
knowledge. In 1880, when Mr. Justice Field was candidate for President,
he flooded the South with literature concerning his friendship for that
section, as evidenced by various decisions of the United States Supreme
Court in the dark days of reconstruction. In the North, principally
among the Grand Army, a pamphlet was circulated to the effect that
he had saved California to the Union by a timely letter to President
Lincoln, which resulted in General Sumner’s hasty mission. Whether it
was authorized by Judge Field, I do not know. But it fell into the
hands of the Southern leaders and doomed his candidacy in the section
where he counted on support. Not at all because he had saved the Union,
but because of the implied aspersion on the memory of one who will
ever be dear to the South--a gentleman of unimpeachable honor, a great
soldier who died a soldier’s death, fighting for the Lost Cause.
After he resigned, General Johnston earnestly advised many Southerners,
some of them still alive, to do nothing that would bring war to
California. “If you want to fight, go South,” was his constant counsel
to all. Many followed his advice. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of them
were cut off by Indians in Arizona, where the savages had full swing,
all the frontier army posts having been abandoned. General Johnston
stayed in California till his State--Texas--seceded. Then with a few
followers he traversed the savage wilderness and after many adventures
reached the South.
There is a rather pathetic sidelight to the story that illustrates
the simple devotion of the old-time slaves to their white masters.
General Johnston had freed all his slaves before he came to California.
One of them, called “Rand,” brief for “Randolph”--he had no other
name--followed him as a body-servant to the Pacific. When Johnston left
for the South he ordered “Rand” to stay behind. He was a famous cook
and could have commanded big wages in a high-class restaurant. But the
faithful body-servant would not be denied. He fought his way with his
former master through the Apaches of Arizona and was with him at Shiloh
when he died. He hung over the dead body of the fallen leader in a wild
passion of primitive grief.
Later some hundred colored body-servants of General Johnston’s appeared
at various parts of the South. The real “Rand” settled in Louisville,
where he was an object of solicitous regard on the part of the Johnston
family and others of the old regime.
“Rand” proved himself no less great in peace than war, for he married
a widow with seven children, an act that needed moral courage of the
highest sort. His career was somewhat checkered, but he was always well
looked after, and “looking after” “Rand” was often quite a job.
He became something of a character in the border city; resolutely
declined to be “reconstructed” and remained an unrepentant rebel to
the last. He was very bitter in his talk about the “poor white trash”
of the North. When he uncorked the vials of his wrath he called his
adversary an “abolitionist” as the last word of scorn.
In his final illness tender Southern hands smoothed his way into the
hereafter. Mrs. H. P. Hepburn of Louisville, once of San Francisco, was
present when the curtain rang down on “Rand.” He raised his feeble head
and said: “I’se ’gwan to meet ole Marse Johnston,” then sunk back on
the rough pillow, closed his eyes and died.