Book: The Forty Niners

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The mob surged after the disappearing vehicle, and so ended up finally
in the wide open space before the county jail. The latter was a solidly
built one-story building situated on top of a low cliff. North, the
marshal, had drawn up his armed men. The mob, very excited, vociferated,
surging back and forth, though they did not rush, because as yet they
had no leaders. Attempts were made to harangue the gathering, but
everywhere the speeches were cut short. At a crucial moment the militia
appeared. The crowd thought at first that the volunteer troops were
coming to uphold their own side, but were soon undeceived. The troops
deployed in front of the jail and stood at guard. Just then the mayor
attempted to address the crowd.

"You are here creating an excitement," he said, "which may lead to
occurrences this night which will require years to wipe out. You are now
laboring under great excitement and I advise you to quietly disperse. I
assure you the prisoner is safe. Let the law have its course and justice
will be done."

He was listened to with respect, up to this point, but here arose such a
chorus of jeers that he retired hastily.

"How about Richardson?" they demanded of him. "Where is the law in
Cora's case? To hell with such justice!"

More and more soldiers came into the square, which was soon filled with
bayonets. The favorable moment had passed and this particular crisis
was, like all the other similar crises, quickly over. But the city was
aroused. Mass meetings were held in the Plaza and in other convenient
localities. Many meetings took place in rooms in different parts of the
city. Men armed by the thousands. Vehement orators held forth from
every balcony. Some of these people were, as a chronicler of the times
quaintly expressed it, "considerably tight." There was great diversity
of opinion. All night the city seethed with ill-directed activity. But
men felt helpless and hopeless for want of efficient organization.

The so-called Southern chivalry called this affair a "fight." Indeed the
_Herald_ in its issue of the next morning, mistaking utterly the times,
held boldly along the way of its sympathies. It also spoke of the
assassination as an "affray," and stated emphatically its opinion that,
"now that justice is regularly administered," there was no excuse for
even the threat of public violence. This utter blindness to the meaning
of the new movement and the far-reaching effect of King's previous
campaign proved fatal to the paper. It declined immediately. In the
meantime, attended by his wife and a whole score of volunteer
physicians, King, lying in a room in the Montgomery block, was making a
fight for his life.

Then people began to notice a small advertisement on the first page of
the morning papers, headed _The Vigilance Committee_.

"The members of the Vigilance Committee in good standing will please
meet at number 105-1/2 Sacramento Street, this day, Thursday, fifteenth
instant, at nine o'clock A.M. By order of the COMMITTEE OF THIRTEEN."

People stood still in the streets, when this notice met the eye. If this
was actually the old Committee of 1851, it meant business. There was but
one way to find out and that was to go and see. Number 105-1/2
Sacramento Street was a three-story barn-like structure that had been
built by a short-lived political party called the "Know-Nothings." The
crowd poured into the hall to its full capacity, jammed the entrance
ways, and gathered for blocks in the street. There all waited patiently
to see what would happen.

Meantime, in the small room back of the stage, about a score of men
gathered. Chief among all stood William T. Coleman. He had taken a
prominent part in the old Committee of '51. With him were Clancey
Dempster, small and mild of manner, blue-eyed, the last man in the room
one would have picked for great stamina and courage, yet playing one of
the leading roles in this crisis; the merchant Truett, towering above
all the rest; Farwell, direct, uncompromising, inspired with tremendous
single-minded earnestness; James Dows, of the rough and ready, humorous,
blasphemous, horse-sense type; Hossefross, of the Committee of '51; Dr.
Beverly Cole, high-spirited, distinguished-looking, and courtly; Isaac
Bluxome, whose signature of "33 Secretary" was to become terrible, and
who also had served well in 1851. These and many more of their type were
considering the question dispassionately and earnestly.

"It is a serious business," said Coleman, summing up. "It is no child's
play. It may prove very serious. We may get through quickly and safely,
or we may so involve ourselves as never to get through."

"The issue is not one of choice but of expediency," replied Dempster.
"Shall we have vigilance with order or a mob with anarchy?"

In this spirit Coleman addressed the crowd waiting in the large hall.

"In view of the miscarriage of justice in the courts," he announced
briefly, "it has been thought expedient to revive the Vigilance
Committee. An Executive Council should be chosen, representative of the
whole body. I have been asked to take charge. I will do so, but must
stipulate that I am to be free to choose the first council myself. Is
that agreed?"

He received a roar of assent.

"Very well, gentlemen, I shall request you to vacate the hall. In a
short time the books will be open for enrollment."

With almost disciplined docility the crowd arose and filed out, joining
the other crowd waiting patiently in the street.

After a remarkably short period the doors were again thrown open. Inside
the passage stood twelve men later to be known as the Executive
Committee. These held back the rush, admitting but one man at a time.
The crowd immediately caught the idea and helped. There was absolutely
no excitement. Every man seemed grimly in earnest. Cries of "Order,
order, line up!" came all down the street. A rough queue was formed.
There were no jokes or laughing; there was even no talk. Each waited his
turn. At the entrance every applicant was closely scrutinized and
interrogated. Several men were turned back peremptorily in the first few
minutes, with the warning not to dare make another attempt. Passed by
this Committee, the candidate climbed the stairs. In the second story
behind a table sat Coleman, Dempster, and one other. These administered
to him an oath of secrecy and then passed him into another room where
sat Bluxome behind a ledger. Here his name was written and he was
assigned a number by which henceforth in the activities of the Committee
he was to be known. Members were instructed always to use numbers and
never names in referring to other members.

Those who had been enrolled waited for some time, but finding that with
evening the applicants were still coming in a long procession, they
gradually dispersed. No man, however, departed far from the vicinity.
Short absences and hastily snatched meals were followed by hurried
returns, lest something be missed. From time to time rumors were put in
circulation as to the activities of the Executive Committee, which had
been in continuous session since its appointment. An Examining Committee
had been appointed to scrutinize the applicants. The number of the
Executive Committee had been raised to twenty-six; a Chief of Police had
been chosen, and he in turn appointed messengers and policemen, who set
out in search of individuals wanted as door-keepers, guards, and so
forth. Only registered members were allowed on the floor of the hall.
Even the newspaper reporters were gently but firmly ejected. There was
no excitement or impatience.

At length, at eight o'clock, Coleman came out of one of the side-rooms
and, mounting a table, called for order. He explained that a military
organization had been decided upon, advised that numbers 1 to 100
inclusive should assemble in one corner of the room, the second hundred
at the first window, and so on. An interesting order was his last. "Let
the French assemble in the middle of the hall," he said in their
language--an order significant of the great numbers of French who had
first answered the call of gold in '49, and who now with equal
enthusiasm answered the call for essential justice. Each company was
advised to elect its own officers, subject to ratification by the
Executive Committee. It was further stated that arrangements had been
made to hire muskets to the number of several thousands from one George
Law. These were only flintlocks, but efficient enough in their way, and
supplied with bayonets. They were discarded government weapons, brought
out some time ago by Law to arm some mysterious filibustering expedition
that had fallen through. In this manner, without confusion, an
organization of two thousand men was formed--sixteen military companies.

By Saturday morning, May 17, the Committee rooms were overwhelmed by
crowds of citizens who desired to be enrolled. Larger quarters had
already been secured in a building on the south side of Sacramento
Street. Thither the Committee now removed _en masse_, without
interrupting their labors. These new headquarters soon became famous in
the history of this eventful year.

In the meantime the representatives of the law had not been less alert.
The regular police force was largely increased. The sheriff issued
thousands of summonses calling upon citizens for service as deputies.
These summonses were made out in due form of law. To refuse them meant
to put oneself outside the law. The ordinary citizen was somewhat
puzzled by the situation. A great many responded to the appeal from
force of habit. Once they accepted the oath these new deputies were
confronted by the choice between perjury, and its consequences, or doing
service. On the other hand, the issue of the summonses forced many
otherwise neutral men into the ranks of the Vigilantes. If they refused
to act when directly summoned by law, that very fact placed them on the
wrong side of the law. Therefore they felt that joining a party pledged
to what practically amounted to civil war was only a short step further.
Against these the various military companies were mustered, reminded of
their oath, called upon to fulfill their sworn duty, and sent to various
strategic points about the jail and elsewhere. The Governor was
informally notified of a state of insurrection and was requested to send
in the state militia. By evening all the forces of organized society
were under arms, and the result was a formidable, apparently impregnable
force.

Nor was the widespread indignation against the shooting of James King of
William entirely unalloyed by bitterness. King had been a hard hitter,
an honest man, a true crusader; but in the heat of battle he had not
always had time to make distinctions. Thus he had quite justly attacked
the _Times_ and other venal newspapers, but in so doing had, by too
general statements, drawn the fire of every other journal in town. He
had attacked with entire reason a certain Catholic priest, a man the
Church itself would probably soon have disciplined, but in so doing had
managed to enrage all Roman Catholics. In like manner his scorn of the
so-called "chivalry" was certainly well justified, but his manner of
expression offended even the best Southerners. Most of us see no farther
than the immediate logic of the situation. Those perfectly worthy
citizens were inclined to view the Vigilantes, not as a protest against
intolerable conditions, but rather as personal champions of King.

In thus relying on the strength of their position the upholders of law
realized that there might be fighting, and even severe fighting, but it
must be remembered that the Law and Order party loved fighting. It was
part of their education and of their pleasure and code. No wonder that
they viewed with equanimity and perhaps with joy the beginning of the
Vigilance movement of 1856.

The leaders of the Law and Order party chose as their military commander
William Tecumseh Sherman, whose professional ability and integrity in
later life are unquestioned, but whose military genius was equaled only
by his extreme inability to remember facts. When writing his _Memoirs_,
the General evidently forgot that original documents existed or that
statements concerning historical events can often be checked up. A mere
mob is irresponsible and anonymous. But it was not a mob with whom
Sherman was faced, for, as a final satisfaction to the legal-minded, the
men of the Vigilance Committee had put down their names on record as
responsible for this movement, and it is upon contemporary record that
the story of these eventful days must rely for its details.





CHAPTER XIV

THE STORM BREAKS


The Governor of the State at this time was J. Neely Johnson, a
politician whose merits and demerits were both so slight that he would
long since have been forgotten were it not for the fact that he occupied
office during this excitement. His whole life heretofore had been one of
trimming. He had made his way by this method, and he gained the
Governor's chair by yielding to the opinion of others. He took his color
and his temporary belief from those with whom he happened to be. His
judgment often stuck at trifles, and his opinions were quickly heated
but as quickly cooled. The added fact that his private morals were not
above criticism gave men an added hold over him.

On receipt of the request for the state militia by the law party, but
not by the proper authorities. Governor Johnson hurried down from
Sacramento to San Francisco. Immediately on arriving in the city he sent
word to Coleman requesting an interview. Coleman at once visited him at
his hotel. Johnson apparently made every effort to appear amiable and
conciliatory. In answer to all questions Coleman replied:

"We want peace, and if possible without a struggle."

"It is all very well," said Johnson, "to talk about peace with an army
of insurrection newly raised. But what is it you actually wish to
accomplish?"

"The law is crippled," replied Coleman. "We want merely to accomplish
what the crippled law should do but cannot. This done, we will gladly
retire. Now you have been asked by the mayor and certain others to bring
out the militia and crush this movement. I assure you it cannot be done,
and, if you attempt it, it will cause you and us great trouble. Do as
Governor McDougal did in '51. See in this movement what he saw in
that--a local movement for a local reform in which the State is not
concerned. We are not a mob. We demand no overthrow of institutions. We
ask not a single court to adjourn. We ask not a single officer to
vacate his position. We demand only the enforcement of the law which we
have made."

This expression of intention, with a little elaboration and argument,
fired Johnson to enthusiasm. He gave his full support, unofficially of
course, to the movement.

"But," he concluded, "hasten the undertaking as much as you can. The
opposition is stronger than you suppose. The pressure on me is going to
be terrible. What about the prisoners in the jail?"

Coleman evaded this last question by saying that the matter was in the
hands of the Committee, and he then left the Governor.

Coleman at once returned to headquarters where the Executive Committee
was in session, getting rid of its routine business. After a dozen
matters were settled, it was moved "that the Committee as a body shall
visit the county jail at such time as the Executive Committee might
direct, and take thence James P. Casey and Charles Cora, give them a
fair trial, and administer such punishment as justice shall demand."

This, of course, was the real business for which all this organization
had been planned. A moment's pause succeeded the proposal, but an
instantaneous and unanimous assent followed the demand for a vote. At
this precise instant a messenger opened the door and informed them that
Governor Johnson was in the building requesting speech with Coleman.

Coleman found Johnson, accompanied by Sherman and a few others, lounging
in the anteroom. The Governor sprawled in a chair, his hat pulled over
his eyes, a cigar in the corner of his mouth. His companions arose and
bowed gravely as Coleman entered the room, but the Governor remained
seated and nodded curtly with an air of bravado. Without waiting for
even the ordinary courtesies he burst out.

"We have come to ask what you intend to do," he demanded.

Coleman, thoroughly surprised, with the full belief that the subject had
all been settled in the previous interview, replied curtly.

"I agree with you as to the grievances," rejoined the Governor, "but the
courts are the proper remedy. The judges are good men, and there is no
necessity for the people to turn themselves into a mob."

"Sir!" cried Coleman. "This is no mob!--You know this is no mob!"

The Governor went on to explain that it might become necessary to bring
out all the force at his command. Coleman, though considerably taken
aback, recovered himself and listened without comment. He realized that
Sherman and the other men were present as witnesses.

"I will report your remark to my associates," he contented himself with
saying. The question of witnesses, however, bothered Coleman. He darted
in to the committee room and shortly returned with witnesses of his own.

"Let us now understand each other clearly," he resumed. "As I understand
your proposal, it is that, if we make no move, you guarantee no escape,
an immediate trial, and instant execution?"

Johnson agreed to this.

"We doubt your ability to do this," went on Coleman, "but we are ready
to meet you half-way. This is what we will promise: we will take no
steps without first giving you notice. But in return we insist that ten
men of our own selection shall be added to the sheriff's force within
the jail."

Johnson, who was greatly relieved and delighted, at once agreed to this
proposal, and soon withdrew. But the blunder he had made was evident
enough. With Coleman, who was completely outside the law, he, as an
executive of the law, had no business treating or making agreements at
all. Furthermore, as executive of the State, he had no legal right to
interfere with city affairs unless he were formally summoned by the
authorities. Up to now he had merely been notified by private citizens.
And to cap the whole sheaf of blunders, he had now in this private
interview treated with rebels, and to their advantage. For, as Coleman
probably knew, the last agreement was all for the benefit of the
Committee. They gained the right to place a personal guard over the
prisoners. They gave in return practically only a promise to withdraw
that guard before attacking the jail--a procedure which was eminently
practical if they cared anything for the safety of the guard.

Johnson was thoroughly pleased with himself until he reached the hotel
where the leaders of the opposition were awaiting him. Their keen legal
minds saw at once the position in which he had placed himself. After a
hasty discussion, it was decided to claim that the Committee had waived
all right of action, and that they had promised definitely to leave the
case to the courts. When this statement had been industriously
circulated and Coleman had heard of it, he is said to have exclaimed:

"The time has come. After that, it is either ourselves or a mob."

He proceeded at once to the Vigilance headquarters and summoned Olney,
the appointed guardian of the jail. Him he commanded to get together
sixty of the best men possible. A call was sent out for the companies to
assemble. They soon began to gather, coming some in rank as they had
gathered in their headquarters outside, others singly and in groups.
Doorkeepers prevented all exit: once a man was in, he was not permitted
to go out. Each leader received explicit directions as to what was to be
done. He was instructed as to precisely when he and his command were to
start; from what given point; along exactly what route to proceed; and
at just what time to arrive at a given point--not a moment sooner or
later. The plan for concerted action was very carefully and skillfully
worked out. Olney's sixty men were instructed to lay aside their muskets
and, armed only with pistols, to make their way by different routes to
the jail.

Sunday morning dawned fair and calm. But as the day wore on, an air of
unrest pervaded the city. Rumors of impending action were already
abroad. The jail itself hummed like a hive. Men came and went, busily
running errands, and darting about through the open door. Armed men were
taking their places on the flat roof. Meantime the populace gathered
slowly. At first there were only a score or so idling around the square;
but little by little they increased in numbers. Black forms began to
appear on the rooftops all about; white faces showed at the windows;
soon the center of the square had filled; the converging streets became
black with closely packed people. The windows and doors and balconies,
the copings and railings, the slopes of the hills round about were all
occupied. In less than an hour twenty thousand people had gathered. They
took their positions quietly and waited patiently. It was evident that
they had assembled in the role of spectators only, and that action had
been left to more competent and better organized men. There was no
shouting, no demonstration, and so little talking that it amounted only
to a low murmur. Already the doors of the jail had been closed. The
armed forces on the roof had been increased.

After a time the congested crowd down one of the side-streets was
agitated by the approach of a body of armed men. At the same instant a
similar group began to appear at the end of another and converging
street. The columns came steadily forward, as the people gave way. The
men wore no uniforms, and the glittering steel of their bayonets
furnished the only military touch. The two columns reached the
convergence of the street at the same time and as they entered the
square before the jail a third and a fourth column debouched from other
directions, while still others deployed into view on the hills behind.
They all took their places in rank around the square.

Among the well-known characters of the times was a certain Colonel Gift.
Mr. Hubert H. Bancroft, the chronicler of these events, describes him as
"a tall, lank, empty-boweled, tobacco-spurting Southerner, with eyes
like burning black balls, who could talk a company of listeners into an
insane asylum quicker than any man in California, and whose blasphemy
could not be equaled, either in quantity or quality, by the most profane
of any age or nation." He remarked to a friend nearby, as he watched the
spectacle below: "When you see these damned psalm-singing Yankees turn
out of their churches, shoulder their guns, and march away of a Sunday,
you may know that hell is going to crack shortly."

For some time the armed men stood rigid, four deep all around the
square. Behind them the masses of the people watched. Then at a command
the ranks fell apart and from the side-streets marched the sixty men
chosen by Olney, dragging a field gun at the end of a rope. This they
wheeled into position in the square and pointed it at the door of the
jail. Quite deliberately, the cannon was loaded with powder and balls. A
man lit a slow match, blew it to a glow, and took his position at the
breech. Nothing then happened for a full ten minutes. The six men stood
rigid by the gun in the middle of the square. The sunlight gleamed from
the ranks of bayonets. The vast multitude held its breath. The wall of
the jail remained blank and inscrutable.

Then a man on horseback was seen to make his way through the crowd. This
was Charles Doane, Grand Marshal of the Vigilantes. He rode directly to
the jail door, on which he rapped with the handle of his riding-whip.
After a moment the wicket in the door opened. Without dismounting, the
rider handed a note within, and then, backing his horse the length of
the square, came to rest.

Again the ranks parted and closed, this time to admit of three
carriages. As they came to a stop, the muskets all around the square
leaped to "present arms!" From the carriages descended Coleman, Truett,
and several others. In dead silence they walked to the jail door,
Olney's men close at their heels. For some moments they spoke through
the wicket; then the door swung open and the Committee entered.

Up to this moment Casey had been fully content with the situation. He
was, of course, treated to the best the jail or the city could afford.
It was a bother to have been forced to shoot James King of William; but
the nuisance of incarceration for a time was a small price to pay. His
friends had rallied well to his defense. He had no doubt whatever, that,
according to the usual custom, he would soon work his way through the
courts and stand again a free man. His first intimation of trouble was
the hearing of the resonant tramp of feet outside. His second was when
Sheriff Scannell stood before him with the Vigilantes' note in his hand.
Casey took one glance at Scannell's face.

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