Daugherty, a Silk and Linen Drummer, Contracts to Build a Cellar.
At Fort Zara I met another old friend. Bill Daugherty was there keeping
the station. Nothing would do him but I should stay over there a week or
so. Daugherty was a natural born Irishman who had "kissed the Blarney
stone," full of wit and humor. He went to the coach and took my "grip
sack" off and took it to the house, and said I had to stay. I liked that
first rate, but I did hate to lose the time.
Daugherty came to Kansas in 1862, drumming for a house that sold fine
linens, laces and silks, and had never done anything but sell silks,
etc. He was sitting in a kind of a tavern one morning and chanced to see
an advertisement in the paper that struck his "funny side." A gentleman
living at the corner of Fifth and Shawnee Streets in Leavenworth,
Kansas, had advertised for a contractor to build him a cellar, and the
advertisement said that none "but experienced contractors need apply."
The drummer, Bill Daugherty, decided he would call upon the gentleman
who wanted "an experienced contractor." When he arrived at the place
specified in the advertisement he found it to be a large general
merchandise store. Daugherty introduced himself to the proprietor of the
place and told him that he was an experienced contractor. "And," said
Daugherty, "I see you are in a hurry for the cellar, sure and I am the
laddie that can build that cellar quicker than a bat can wink its eye.
I'm from auld Ireland, and conthracting is me pusiness." The merchant
told him that he wanted the cellar built right away, and showed him the
ground he wanted it built on--which adjoined his business house on the
corner. Daugherty asked the merchant how much time he would allow him to
build the cellar in, and the merchant told him not longer than eight or
ten days. "Well," said Bill, "I will do it in less time."
"Now, sir, you furnish me the tools, shovels, picks, wheelbarrows, and
running plank to the number I want, and I will go to work on your
cellar, Friday, if you will give me $100." The merchant said he could
not afford to give more than $80 for the job and that he would have to
take $20 in trade. "Alright, py golly," Bill answered, "I will take the
job that way, providing you put it in writing." The contract was drawn
up and said that the cellar was to be commenced on at 7 o'clock Saturday
morning. The merchant was to furnish all tools or pay for the tools
Daugherty bought up to a certain given number. Friday night Daugherty
had all his tools on the "job" and made everything ready to commence
work Saturday morning. Bright and early Saturday morning Bill was there
and he had two wagons from the saloon on the ground also.
Thursday evening when he first made the agreement to build the cellar,
he went to the saloon and told the "Bys" to come to Fifth and Shawnee
Streets Saturday, that he was going to give a "B," and it was to be the
best time, and the liveliest time, and the finest "B" they ever saw. He
told the boys at the saloon all about his contract with the merchant,
and as they were mostly Irish, they quickly agreed to help out with
the plan.
Bill Daugherty had the saloon man send down four bartenders, and he had
a keg of beer placed at equal distances apart with mugs and glasses and
the bartenders to draw the beer, and the fun commenced. Before seven
o'clock more than fifty men were on the job. The alley behind the store
building was five feet under grade and he put running plank on the
ground from the front of the ground running into the alley, and put four
wheel-barrows on them and a set of men shoveling. The work progressed
nicely with the Irishmen working and drinking and singing. Bill
Daugherty was in his glory and the old merchant was "feel-n' blue." Bill
kept encouraging his workmen telling them that some "great big doin's
was a-comin' off along about eaten' time." The restaurant man came with
a fine dinner and furnished everything in the eating line but the
coffee, and the saloon man was there with the "drinks."
At one o'clock they all started to work and at 4 o'clock that afternoon
they had completed the cellar, and the engineer had inspected it, and
passed his judgment that it was a "good job." Daugherty went in the
store to get "paid off," he was feeling pretty good.
He told the merchant that he wanted a nice vest for himself, a pair of
shoes, and a shirt and hat. Then, he told the merchant that he wanted to
see a fine paisley shawl, one that "you would like to see your wife
wear." The merchant showed him an $8 shawl, but it did not please the
fancy of old Bill Daugherty. "Show me a shawl that you would be pleased
to see your wife wear, one that you would be proud to see her wear to
church, that old shawl is not genteel." This time the merchant took down
a $16 shawl and after close examination, and the assurance that it was
the best one he had in the house, Daugherty accepted the shawl. "Now,"
said Daugherty, "I want my cash." The merchant counted out the balance
of the money to him, and said he would wrap the shawl for the
"contractor." The merchant began to wrap the shawl up for Bill and Bill
told him that "that won't do, a lady wouldn't have a fine shawl wrapped
up like that, let me ahold of the strings and fine papers." Daugherty
called for tissue paper, he wrapped his purchase up neatly and then
called for ribbon with which to tie it. He wanted green and red ribbons.
After encasing the article in the tissue paper bound around with
ribbons, he put a piece of wrapping paper about it, and left the store,
and its room full of amused spectators.
Bill went from the store straight to the home of the old merchant and
told the wife of the merchant that he was "frash from auld Ireland, and
that he had one shawl left, from his large stock, that he would sell her
real cheaply. He commenced to talk to the lady, and all the time he was
talking he was unwinding the papers from around the shawl. She looked at
him in amazement, and he told her that he had sold out a large
collection of fine shawls that he had brought from Paris, and that her
husband had seen this shawl and greatly admired it, and that he had said
to him in the presence of several other men, that he would like to see
his wife wear a shawl like it." She told him that the shawl must be
very choice.
At last the wrappers were all off the shawl, and he threw it about her
shoulders and told her to look in the glass. He slapped his hands
together, saying, "beautiful, beautiful--real Parisian." On talked the
talkative Bill, until at last he saw he had won the lady to his view of
thinking that she was a real Parisian figure with the shawl gracefully
draped about her shoulders, and she asked him what he would take for it.
He told her that she could have it for just $65. and before she could
catch her breath, he wheeled her about where she could see her profile
in the glass, and told her to "just look at the reflection, could
anything be handsomer?" He told her that it was the last one he had, and
was cheap at the price, that her husband had said so, and that he said
he would like to see her wear it.
She paid the money for it and he departed. He met one of his cronies
down the street and told him about the transaction. "Now," said he, "you
go down and tell him that he had better come over to the saloon and
treat, and I will have the other boys over there hidden in the back
room, and we will all get a glass and
"All go down to Rowser, to Rowser, to Rowser, We'll all go down to
Rowser and get a drink of beer."
Well, the merchant "fell to" and the treats cost him in round figures
the sum of $11.00. When Daugherty left to catch his stage out from there
to Fort Zara, he was still treating the crowd, and getting pretty
full, himself.
After the affair at Leavenworth, Bill Daugherty came to Kansas City on
the boat, and asked the stage company if they needed a man to care for
some of their stations. Mr. Barnum employed Bill and he went to Fort
Zara, out among the Indians, where Bill's tongue helped him to get along
very nicely with them.
When he chanced to allude to Fort Leavenworth, he always told the story
of his "contracting" at Leavenworth on the corner of Fifth and Shawnee
Streets. Out there at Fort Zara, Bill enjoyed himself as only Irishmen
can, but his stumbling block was Captain Conkey, who was the biggest
crank on earth, "take it from me," for he and I had a little "set-to."
Daugherty always sent his "red, white and blue regards to the old
merchant" by whosoever went to Leavenworth.