Part 9

Colonel Zabriskie’s speech before those potent, grave and reverend Señors was as fine a piece of oratory as one would wish to listen to. Our victory was complete. The unanimous report of the joint committee, dated April, 1870, is before me, but it is too long for publication here and I will condense it conscientiously. They say: “The committee find that in July, 1867, a contract was awarded to E. Bates for carrying a weekly mail between San Antonio and El Paso, Texas, seven hundred miles, for thirty-three thousand dollars a year; and they find that without warrant of law and without giving other bidders any opportunity to compete, this compensation was in eighteen months increased from $33,000 to $333,617! This was done by adding new routes, some of them longer than the original one and running at right angles to it and increasing the number of trips and ‘expediting’ the ‘speed.’ They say: “Charges were made that the service was not perfectly performed and that the contractor had wholly failed to perform his contract, and there is no doubt in the minds of the committee that these charges were substantially true up to the latter part of 1868. It is also charged that the Mail Company had sufficient influence with some of the postmasters to procure from them false certificates of the arrivals of the mails. The committee find that —— ——, postmaster at El Paso, Texas, certified that out of thirty-seven mails due at El Paso for a certain period, only ten ever arrived, and subsequently sent to the Department a certificate stating that all of the thirty-seven mails had arrived on time. For this and other reasons the committee recommend his dismissal. All the evidence concurs that the mails in Texas are so unsafe that no one dare trust money to them.” The report says: “In making these increases of service and compensation the Postoffice Department seems to have given great weight to the representations of Judge Paschel, State Agent of Texas, probably not knowing that he was also the attorney of the Mail Company and himself interested in the contract.” The report says: “It is evident that much feeling exists and powerful influences are interested both for and against the Mail Company.” I know of no “powerful influence” _against_ the Mail Company unless the committee refer to Zabriskie and myself, for we were alone in that contest.

Well, the result was a curtailment of the Mail Company’s compensation by several hundred thousand dollars during the years for which they claimed the contracts, and a saving to the Government of an equal sum, and finally a return to something like fair and honest dealing in letting of such contracts.

While we were making our fight on the Mail Company of the Southwest, as above related, Col. Joe McCibbin was attacking a company who had by the same means monopolized the main routes in the Northwest, and he was trying to expose their frauds. Though acting independently, we sympathized and sometimes consulted with each other, and became fast friends. McCibbin was a man of fine ability, had been a member of Congress from California and in 1856 had been the second to Senator David C. Broderick of that State in the duel with Judge David S. Terry, in which the brilliant Senator was killed. McCibbin bore a striking resemblance to and in his manner was much like my friend, the elder Dr. Samaniego of Juarez. His fight was not concluded when we left Washington, and on my return a year or two later I asked him how it had terminated. He replied: “Oh, I am on the inside. I am the attorney for the Mail Company and am well paid for my services. You and Zabriskie had better get in. You can easily do so, and it don’t pay to fight other people’s battles. You get neither money nor thanks.”

McCibbin then told me that the Mail Company had paid him $20,000 in cash to stop the fight, and were then paying him $10,000 per year as their Washington attorney. I would not state what McCibbin told me had he not later on made the same statement under oath to a committee of Congress and boldly defended his conduct. Did he do wrong? I don’t know. His was a free lance. I sometimes envy the happy ignorance of those who tell me that they always know exactly what is right and wrong.

Yes, Zabriskie and I could have “got in,” but we did not.

VICTORIO, THE GREAT APACHE GENERAL.

I could fill a book larger than the one I am writing with true stories of Indian raids and fights and massacres and captivities on this frontier, but I refrain.

In my war story I gave an account of one of the most desperate fights, where one who was kin of mine died, fighting bravely but hopelessly, and I will briefly mention here that final “round up” of the hostile savages of this section, the capture of Victorio and his band by the combined troops of our country and Mexico, within forty miles of El Paso, just twenty years ago. I give here an extract from a letter I wrote from El Paso to Mrs. Mills at Austin, dated September 24th, 1880, as follows: “If I had of late jumbled my accounts of Indians and war and politics and killings and adventures and anecdotes all into one letter I might have written one that would have interested all the good people at Fair Oaks, ‘Chicos y Grandes.’ I wrote you from Fort Davis that the Indians were gone. They were gone to the Candelerio Mountains, forty miles south of Quitman, and they are there yet. Since then they have stolen two herds of cattle from Dr. Samaniego, fifty miles from El Paso, killing the herders. Yesterday a small band crossed the river at the Canutilla, sixteen miles above here. Three days ago our troops and friendly Indians crossed here into the land of God and Liberty to concentrate with other forces who crossed below and above, to make a combined attack on Victorio _today_. But the wiley chief may not be there. Considering the number of his braves, he is the greatest commander, white or red, who ever roamed these plains. For more than a year he has out-manoeuvered our officers with six times his number and all the appurtenances of war, and when he has not out-generaled them he has _whipped them_. In sober truth, he is the veriest devil ‘that ere clutched fingers in a captive’s hair.’”

(I regret that neither at the War Department at Washington nor elsewhere have I been able to obtain an official account of the defeat of Victorio’s band. The fight took place at Tres Castillas, southeast of El Paso. Only the Mexican soldiers happened to be in at the death, although our troops rendered valuable assistance on both sides of the boundary line in getting Victorio into a position where he was forced to fight either our troops or the Mexicans. Victorio and a hundred warriors were killed on the field and as many Indians were made prisoners. Col. Juaquin Terrazas of Chihuahua, a brave and skillful Indian fighter, commanded the Mexican troops.)

THE KILLING OF CLARKE AND WILLIAMS—THE CAUSES—1870.

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.

THE CARDIS-HOWARD FEUD—THE MOB AT SAN ELEZARIO, 1877.

In 1877 but before the coming of the first railroad to El Paso and when the population had increased but little beyond what it was in the “sixties,” there arose a bitter feud between two remarkable men, Lewis Cardis and Charles H. Howard, which resulted in the killing of both leaders and many other tragedies and agitated the people of the valley as nothing else ever did before or since.

Out of this local trouble evil-minded persons sought to manufacture excitement in Texas and throughout the country about a “war of races,” “organized invasion from Mexico,” and to involve the two countries in war. Cardis was an Italian who had served as an officer in Garibaldi’s army in his youth, and had resided for several years at El Paso as a merchant and contractor, and knew the Spanish language and the Mexican character perfectly. He had been my lieutenant in political affairs during the sixties and early in the seventies he had, with my consent, succeeded me as the friend, adviser and leader of the Mexican people of the valley but was not so successful with the Americans.

Howard had come later from Texas. He was a lawyer and had served in the Confederate army. He was a man of imposing appearance, powerful physique and wonderful determination and courage, or rather recklessness. A friend of mine recently told me that the first time he saw Howard, although he knew nothing about him, _he feared him_. Howard’s chief characteristic was _force_; that of Cardis was persuasion and management—a natural diplomat. Howard was a Democrat, Cardis was a Republican.

I was absent at the Capital of the State during the tragic month of which I am writing, but I knew both the parties well and was well informed of the nature of their quarrels. I had been intimate with Cardis for several years at El Paso. Howard had been my attorney, and I and my wife had once made the journey of eight days and nights from El Paso to Austin with him in the stage coach and he and I had returned to El Paso together in the same way. Besides, during several months preceding the tragedies each of them wrote me several letters complaining of the other, and each invoking my influence with the other. I still retain these letters, and I have before me as I write all the testimony taken by a United States Commission, consisting of Colonels King and Lewis of the regular army, which was appointed to investigate and report upon the _emente_. Howard had located some salt lakes about one hundred miles northeast of El Paso, from which (being on public land) the Mexicans had for many years taken salt free of cost. They were indignant at his action, and some of them threatened to take salt as before, but so far none of them had committed any lawless act. Howard, having influence with the county officials, caused the arrest and imprisonment of two prominent Mexicans at San Elezario for these threats. This was September 10th, 1877. A party of forty or fifty armed Mexicans at San Elezario forcibly released their two countrymen, and in turn arrested Howard and the County Judge, and organizing a Court of their own tried them for wrongs (real or supposed) done to them and their American friends, and possibly might have dealt severely with them had it not been for the intercession of Louis Cardis and the Parish Priest. As it was they extorted from him a promise and bond that he would leave the county never to return. Of course, this was lawlessness, but no more so than defrauding people of an election fairly won, or many other things which are common. Howard then went to New Mexico and “fired the Texas heart” with many telegrams about lawless work, war of races, invasion from Mexico, etc., etc. He charged that Cardis was the chief conspirator and marplot who had created all the trouble and had sought to have him (Howard) assassinated.

Howard called on Governor Hubbard for protection. There was great excitement throughout the State. Howard returned to El Paso and on the 10th of October, 1877, while Louis Cardis was writing a letter in the store of Joseph Schutz, Howard walked in with a shotgun and immediately shot him dead.

Now comes the most strange and pathetic part of this story. The people of San Elezario were threatening to kill Howard if he returned to that village, and the letter which Cardis had just finished and placed in his breast pocket was written to the leaders of that people pleading with them to refrain from all violence toward Howard and all others. This letter was bespattered with Cardis’ blood! I print the letter below, together with some extracts from Cardis’ diary for the few days preceding his death, and also an affidavit of Adolph Krakaner, an eye-witness of the assassination:

“El Paso, Texas, October 10th, 1877.

“Friend Cipriano: The notice having been circulated by telegraph and in the newspapers that our county had risen against the Government and that the same had been invaded by armed people of the Republic of Mexico, General Hatch, commander of troops on this frontier, sent Lieutenant Rucker to investigate whether or not it is true that the property of the United States and the lives of the citizens of the United States are in danger on account of the afore-mentioned invasion, but the lieutenant nor his soldiers have neither the orders nor the wish to molest the citizens of this county, except to investigate the case and make his report to the General.

“The false notices that are in circulation are not worth anything, if the people will continue to do as advised by their friends. Tranquillity and peace and the truth will manifest itself in time. * * * Your friend, in haste,

(Signed) Louis Cardis.

“P. S.—Do not pay any attention to the slanders that you hear against me, and my life. Let the people remain tranquil and we will get justice, and this is what we wish and need no more.

L. C.”

A true copy.

(Signed) John S. Lond, First Lieutenant and Adjutant Ninth Cavalry, Acting Assistant Adjutant General.

(Extract from the diary of Louis Cardis, found on his body after his death at the hands of Howard. The diary is pierced through and through with buckshot.)

“October 1st, P. M.—Was told by Mr. Lujan that Juarez had been incarcerated by order of G. M. Garcia for having said he intended to go to the salt lakes, and that warrants for his (Lujan’s) arrest had been issued, and for the arrest of four others.

“October 2.—J. R. Mariani informed me that the people took up arms, arrested G. M. Garcia and Howard, and asked me to go to San Elezario and use my influence to pacify the excited people, which I did. Found the people very much excited against Howard only. I begged for his life with all my might and left San Elezario at about 3 o’clock A. M. on 3d after being satisfied that the people had taken my advice to let Howard and all the rest free. Arrived at El Paso 9 A. M. after twenty-six hours of no rest or sleep. On the 4th, at night, Howard arrived here at El Paso escorted by eight of the people, and on the 5th A. M. Howard left (I am told) for New Mexico.”

AFFIDAVIT OF ADOLPH KRAKANER.

“I am the bookkeeper of S. Schutz & Bro., merchants at El Paso, Texas, who are also agents of the Texas and California Stage Company, of which Louis Cardis, deceased, was a sub-contractor, running the U. S. mail between this point and Fort Davis, Texas; hence Cardis had more or less transactions with the firm and came frequently into the store and office. On Wednesday, the 10th day of October, 1877, between 2 and 3 o’clock P. M., Louis Cardis, deceased, came into the office, requesting me to write a letter, which he wished to send down to Ysleta and San Elezario. He (Cardis) took a seat in a rocking chair standing near by, with his back turned toward the store door—the main entrance of the establishment. While I was writing the letter, which occupied my whole attention, Judge Charles H. Howard came into the store, and when Mr. Jos. Schutz, a member of the firm of S. Schutz & Bro., who was sitting at a little table in the office, saw Howard, who had a double-barreled shotgun in his hand, he left his seat and walked up toward Howard, saluting him in a loud voice, thus: “How do you do, Judge Howard?” This salute caught the attention of Cardis, who was yet seated in the rocking chair, and he turned his face toward the store door. He (Cardis) seeing Howard, left the chair, passed behind me (I was sitting at the desk writing), and took a position behind the high office desk. Mr. Schutz, seeing Howard raise his gun, in a harsh and exciting tone exclaimed: “Krakaner, come away from there!” I at once dropped the pen, got up from the office chair and was by no means slow in trying to reach the door. While I passed the place where Mr. Schutz stood I heard the latter say: “Don’t shoot here, Judge; respect my house and my family.” The moment I reached the door I heard the discharge of a gun and another one following in quick succession. Howard left the store at once, walking slowly down the street toward his house. When I went back into the office I found Cardis lying dead at the same place (behind the high desk), where I left him a few seconds previously alive. The desk behind which Cardis sought protection did only cover the upper part of his body; from the navel down to his feet his body was exposed to Howard. The latter, standing behind a showcase about forty feet from the place where Cardis stood, fired the first shot under the desk, the balls (buckshot) taking effect in the abdomen; Cardis then staggered, exposed his breast and received Howard’s second shot in the heart.

“The time elapsed between my leaving the desk and the firing of the first shot was but a few seconds. There was not a word spoken between Howard and Cardis. When Cardis’ body was removed from the place where he fell his pistol was found in the scabbard and was cocked.

“I omitted to state that to my knowledge Howard had not been in the store for a period of about nine months prior to this shooting affray.

“El Paso, Texas, January 31st, 1878.

“A. Krakaner.”

Howard again fled to New Mexico, and on October 25th wrote the Governor again about the terrible “mob” in El Paso County, the peril of all Americans, and closed by saying: “If the Governor don’t help us I am going to bushwhacking.” He forgot that during the whole trouble he had been the only man who had shed any blood.