Part 8

Civilization is a slow process. It takes all the forces, moral, intellectual, educational and religious, now in successful operation, to hold the world from falling back and to move it slowly, but surely onward and upward, to a higher plane of civilization. While it is a tedious and arduous, if not an impossible task, to make a white man, in his habits and modes of life, out of an Indian, yet the descent of the white man to the modes, habits of life and appearance of an Indian, is a sadly speedy process.

In a trip I made to Colville, Washington, in 1856 there came into our camp one day a person whom I supposed at first to be an Indian. He was dressed in buckskin, ornamented with fringes and beads, with a blanket over his shoulders; his hair was long and unkept, with no hat on his head and his face bronzed like that of an Indian; and he was besmeared across the forehead with red ochre, or some other kind of paint. I should judge that he was 36 years of age. At first he refused to talk, except in jargon; but after a while, when we were alone, he became more communicative, and gave me something of his history. He spoke good English. He claimed to be a graduate of one of the Eastern Colleges, and I have no doubt his claim was true. He had gotten into some difficulty in the States and had been living as an Indian for some eight years, or more. To all appearances he was an Indian; he looked like an Indian and acted like one. I was in his company for some three days, and when alone he talked to me in good English; he said he loved this wild and nomadic life, with its perfect freedom from the shams and hypocrisy of so-called civilization. He said that the hills, the mountains with their snow-crowned culminations, the dark woods, the silver thread of the stream viewed from an elevated point and fringed with green as it went leaping and rollicking to its ocean home, were to him an unwritten poem, the rythm of which he enjoyed, and the lines of which he was trying to interpret. He quoted to me from Byron the passage concerning the pleasures of the pathless woods, and from Bryant:

"Where rolls the Oregon, And hears no sound, save his own dashings."

On the evening of the third day he rode away in the continuous woods to enjoy, I suppose, their poetry and solitude. This case illustrates the facility of the descent, by even an educated white man, to the level of an Indian; retaining, however, in his soul, still glowing, some of the lights of civilization.

While I was stopping at R.'s I wrote a series of eight articles for The Oregonian, showing the necessity of manufacturing crevices in the country to hold the gold taken out of the gold mines, and also that which was being brought in great abundance by its citizens from California. These articles were used by The Oregonian, by my implied assent, as editorials. The Oregonian was the leading opposition paper in the Territory, with Silver-Gray Whig tendencies. The leading Democratic paper was The Statesman, published at Salem, and owned and edited by Asa Bush, who was a sharp, pungent, and effective editorial writer. "Tom Drier," as the editor of The Oregonian was familiarly called, was an editorial writer of considerable ability. Drier usually added some introductory matter to my articles, and also some matter of amplification, or illustration. It was to me a matter of interest, and amusement, to note that the editor of The Statesman was always able to point out to its readers the matter written by The Oregonian's "hired man," and what was added by the editor. Bush did not know who wrote these articles, nor did anybody else know except myself, R. and the editor of The Oregonian. Bush spoke highly of these articles and enforced, in editorials of his own, the logic and necessity of the policy recommended by them. These articles had much to do with the establishment of the first woolen mills in the State of Oregon. These mills were built at Salem.

As the State of Washington is woefully lacking, so far as manufacturing is concerned, I am tempted to recall, with a Seattle application, one of the many facts embodied in the logic of those articles. Seattle has a population of 250,000, we will say. It costs at least $7.00 each for the feet clothing of such people for one year. This would give the sum of $1,750,000 for boots and shoes alone. When we come to add to this the value of the leather for harness-making, for belting and the other purposes for which leather is used, we have over $2,000,000 taken annually from the people of this city for leather, and its fabrics. The absurdity of this thing appears when we consider that we have a great abundance of hides, which are sold for a mere song, and are received back in manufactured articles. Our forests are rich in tanning; in fact, the raw materials of all kinds required are abundant. Any person by giving serious consideration to the subject will soon be convinced of its great importance, and the imperious necessity of action. As well might we ship the logs cut in our forests to foreign countries, or the Eastern States, to be manufactured into furniture, or finished lumber, as to ship other raw materials away and receive their finished products back, paying for them the increased price, resulting from the labor performed upon them, and for the freight both ways. No country can stand such a drainage, and prosper.

It was in the summer of 1855, if I remember correctly, that I was nominated by an opposition convention to run as a candidate for the Lower House of the Territorial Legislature in Oregon. I did not attend the convention at which I was nominated, nor was I a delegate thereto. At first I hesitated about the acceptance of the nomination; but urged by my friends, I finally consented to run. The Territory as well as the County, was largely Democratic. The platform announced three cardinal principles: first, the most stringent regulation of the liquor traffic; second, America for Americans; and thirdly, the curtailment of public expenses and the cutting-down of salaries. The first and last of these principles I heartily endorsed; the second, in the know-nothing sense, and application, I was not in favor of; furthermore, I was opposed to secret political societies. I favored an open field and a fair fight. Having concluded to run, I went into the fight vigorously, and made speeches in nearly all of the precincts in the County. My canvass alarmed the Democrats, and they sent some of their best speakers after me. I met them in joint debate at times, and at other times I, alone, spoke. As the time approached for election, the excitement increased, and public interest in the campaign was very much aroused. I won, during the campaign, quite a reputation for a raconteur. A point illustrated and enforced by an anecdote or story becomes an integral part of a man's mental and moral constitution.

About the big bills, I told the story of the farmer who had a large flock of chickens and an equally numerous flock of ducks. He fed them with grain. He noticed that the ducks, on account of their larger and broader bills, were able to get more than their share of the food, and he came to the conclusion that in order to equalize matters, he must cut down their bills. This was just what I told the people that we proposed to do. One of the speakers sent out by the Democracy found fault with every proposition announced by me, and I answered him by the narration of the story of a friend who had not seen his quondam neighbor for many months. He was so pleased at his return that he provided a feast for him. Mine host had roast beef, roast mutton, roast pork and chickens. He says to John Doe: "Shant I help your plate with some of this roast beef, which is very juicy and fine?" "No," said John Doe. "I have come to the conclusion that a man who eats beef becomes sluggish and stupid." "Then shall I help you to some of the mutton?" "No," says Doe, "a man who eats mutton becomes timid and cowardly." "Well," says mine host, "you will certainly take some roast pork?" "No," says Doe, "a man who eats pork becomes coarse and swinish." "Then you will take some of the roast chicken?" "No," says Doe, "of all the creatures used by man for food, the chicken is the most filthy in his diet of them all." Mine host, being somewhat disgusted, called to his son Sam to go out to the barn and get some eggs--"possibly this old fool would like to suck an egg or two."

Just before election, tickets were scattered all over the County with my name printed in every shape and form, and quite a number of these tickets had printed on them "for representative, O. Jaques." The canvassers refused to count for me the last named ticket, and this defeated me. There was no other man running whose name in orthography, or sound, resembled mine. Had these tickets been counted for me, they would have elected me by a small majority. I was urged to contest the election, but I refused to do it. My own opinion, as a lawyer, was that probably the judgment of the canvassing board was right; at least there was enough plausibility in its support to furnish an excuse to sustain the position of the canvassing board.

Not being entirely satisfied with the climate and country, and being desirous of visiting California and Mexico, before my return to Michigan, I quite suddenly, in the fall of 1857, concluded to make a start. What means I had were loaned out on demand notes. To my regret I found my debtors unable to respond promptly. I concluded, however, to go to Jackson County and there to await collections. I made the trip on horseback and most of the time alone. Approaching Canonville late in the afternoon one day I saw a lone horseman ahead of me, whose appearance indicated that he was a traveler. I increased my speed and was soon along side of him,--I said "How do you do, sir?" He turned a frowning countenance towards me and snarlingly answered, "None of your business, sir." I was not long in coming to the conclusion that possibly company was not desired by him and especially my company; so I touched the spurs to my horse and left him to his melancholy meditations. I might have been wrong in my conclusion, and I must confess that I felt a good deal as I suppose the fellow felt who was kicked out of the fourth-story window: after gathering himself up and finding that his physical economy, though somewhat bruised, was intact, he came, after deliberate reflection, to the conclusion that possibly he was not wanted up there.

I stopped at a town in Jackson County, bearing the euphonious name of Gasberg. I rested there for a couple of weeks. The people of that settlement were contemplating the erection of a building for a high school or seminary; and they offered me $150 a month to teach a six-months' school. Mr. Culver, quite a wealthy gentleman, offered me an additional $50 a month to keep his books posted, a work I could attend to at night without interfering with the school. I concluded as I probably would have to wait until spring for my collections, to accept the offer. The district already had quite a good school-house. My scholars were mostly young men and women, and I taught everything from reading and spelling, up to and including algebra, and surveying. I never had to do with a finer lot of pupils, and my position was in every way agreeable to me. I ought possibly to state that my wife, then Miss Lucinda Davenport, the only daughter of Dr. Davenport, attended that school. This added to my other employments the delightsome one of courting, and we were married on the first of January, 1858. Although we have lived together for fifty years, we never have been reconciled yet, because there never has been any occasion for a reconciliation.

At the close of the first term I contracted to teach for another term of six months, as my roving disposition had dissolved into thin air. When the second term was closed, I was appointed a Justice of the Peace of that precinct, and I returned to the practice of law--occasionally writing for the newspapers.

When the Civil War commenced, the editor of the principal paper in the southern part of the state--The Sentinel--was a Secession sympathizer, and he and the proprietor and publisher had a fight in which the editor was seriously wounded. I was solicited by the publisher and a committee of leading Union men to assume charge of the editorial department of the paper. I did so, and wrote all the editorials in the paper for over three years. The paper was a weekly, but at times, when the news was stirring, it was published semi-weekly. The paper under my control rapidly increased in circulation. The editorial work that I did while on the paper secured me an offer, when I announced my intention to resume the practice of law, from the Sacramento Union, then the leading paper on the Pacific Coast, to become one of its editorial staff at a good salary. I considered the proposition for quite a time; then concluded to decline it. Had I accepted this offer, it would have changed the whole course and direction of my life, and I probably would have continued in that line of work to this day. It was while I was editor of The Sentinel that a rumor was telegraphed to me that President Lincoln had been assassinated. It came first merely as a rumor and I communicated it only to a few persons, anxiously waiting to hear whether it was true or not. Many of the good and patriotic citizens of all parties feared a riot. I issued an extra, on the confirmation of the news, briefly stating the facts of the assassination: and every store, business house and saloon was immediately closed, and their doors draped in mourning. A meeting was shortly called, and I was invited to deliver an oration on the character and service of the lamented President. I was given three days to prepare that address. The Methodist minister was also invited to deliver an address on that occasion. The crowd was immense; no church in town being large enough to hold it. My oration was published in The Sentinel and other papers in the State and in some of the California papers. I have a copy of that oration; but, as I give in full the oration delivered by me in the City of Seattle on the death of President Garfield a more recent occurrence, I have concluded to give only the later address.

I ran for the Lower House of the Legislature in Jackson County and I was fairly elected, but was counted out; not unjustly, I do not mean to say, for on the face of the returns I was defeated by six votes. The County was largely Democratic, and I ran as a Republican. I said that I was fairly elected, because there was a contest in one of the precincts for the office of Justice of the Peace; I was the contestant's attorney, and he succeeded in his contest because he conclusively showed that thirteen illegal votes were cast against him. To have thrown them out on a contest would have elected me by seven majority. I refused to contest the election, and the matter dropped. Subsequently I ran in that County for the office of County Judge. After I took the field, the Democrats became alarmed, and they withdrew the candidate nominated by them, in convention, and placed in his stead a Mr. Duncan, one of the strongest and most popular Democrats in the County. He beat me by sixteen votes. The other Democratic candidates were elected by majorities ranging from three hundred to four hundred.

At the time Mr. Harding was elected United States Senator for Oregon I was without consultation, or being present, put in nomination for the position, and I lacked only two votes of an election.

Thus, while I was a hard man to beat, I was always beaten, fairly, or unfairly.

I was appointed Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of Washington Territory in 1869. Less than a year afterwards, by unanimous recommendation of the members of the Territorial Legislature, I was appointed Chief Justice of that Court, and at the expiration of that term was re-appointed Chief Justice. During this last term I was nominated by the Republican party and elected Delegate to Congress. At the expiration of that term I was renominated and re-elected.

To make an account of my official career complete, I ought to state that I was a member of the Territorial Council (the equivalent of a State Senate) of Washington for one term; also Mayor of the City of Seattle for one term; and Regent of the Territorial University of Washington for ten years, and Treasurer of the Board of Regents all of that time.

As a member of the Territorial "Council" I was appointed chairman of the judiciary committee, and also chairman of the committee on education. The work on these committees was almost continuous. It absorbed all of my time for nearly every evening of the session.

The iniquitous gross earning tax law, as applied to railroads, was repealed at this session. The vote on its repeal in the "Council" was close--and if I were not a modest man--I would say, that I contributed largely to its repeal. I made the only elaborate argument in the "Council" against its unequal, unjust, inequitable and partial provisions, discriminating in favor of centralized wealth and organized power. It was a close and hard fight in the "Council" but repeal won.

The school system theretofore existing in the Territory, was radically remodeled at this session of the Legislature. The bill as presented to the committee was the work of a selected body of teachers. In a legislative sense it was crude and in some of its provisions, intensely radical. I, in fact, re-wrote the whole bill making its retained provisions full and accurate--omitting surplus statements, and embodying many new provisions. The bill thus remodeled passed the "Council" and the "House," and its essential provisions remain the law of the State today.

A few general observations may be allowable: Rare are the men who possess in a high degree, constructive legislative ability. Every act of legislation ought by clear and accurate provisions cover every element of the subject matter stated in the title. As the act approaches this it approaches perfection.

Any act of legislation laying the foundation of a system--such as the school system and providing for its administration is a difficult task. The human judgment is imperfect--and prescience is limited--hence any approach to perfection in the system itself, or in its administrative provisions, is a matter of evolution of slow growth--and of the survival of the fittest. As time advances and light and knowledge increase, the dead and useless branches are pruned off and the fit and vigorous remain to blossom and bear fruit.

The effective and beneficial work of Delegate to Congress is in the various departments of the Government, and in the various committees of both houses of Congress. In a new country, rapidly filling up with people, post-routes and post-offices must be provided. On the established lines there is a constant and pushing demand for an increase of service. When I was elected, the daily mail stopped at Tacoma, and Seattle had only a weekly mail. One of my first efforts was to increase this Seattle service to a daily mail. I had some difficulty in accomplishing this object, because the postal authorities claimed that the revenues of the Seattle office were not large enough to warrant such increased service. I got it increased, however, to a daily service. I had not so much difficulty in getting a daily service from Seattle to Victoria and way-ports. Everybody on Puget Sound knows that Port Discovery is about six miles west of Port Townsend. Port Discovery was a milling town visited largely by foreign vessels and many American ships, and a large volume of business was done there. There was a stage running daily, from Port Townsend to Port Discovery and back, and it had only a weekly service. I asked for a daily service, but it at first was refused, and I notified the people interested of the result. A Mr. Young, the manager of the Port Discovery Mills, stated to me in a letter that, inasmuch as the Government was very poor and the people of Port Discovery were rich, they, out of the abundance of their wealth, would pay the additional cost, if I would secure the assent of the Government to allow the contractor for the weekly service, to carry the mail daily. I showed this letter to the Postmaster-General, and he, after reading it, said: "Judge, I think the Government can stand the increased expense, and those people shall have a daily mail;" and he ordered it.

A Delegate, in order to wisely and intelligently, as well as promptly, discharge his duties, ought to be a lawyer, and well acquainted especially with the land-laws of the United States and other laws pertaining to Territories. He is constantly called upon to push land-claims to patent, and in this respect he becomes the attorney, without fee, of the people of the Territory. There is a large volume of such business, and he must examine the papers in order to understand the status of the case and to advance it for patent. Representatives from the older States have but very little of such business to demand their attention, and to consume their time.

When I was elected, I do not think there was a single lighthouse, or fog signal, or foghorn, on the waters of Puget Sound, and I secured the establishment of quite a number of them.

I forced the loosening of the grasp of the Northern Pacific Railroad Company on large quantities of the public land, and I did much to secure the passage of the law returning to purchasers one-half of the double-minimum price ($2.50 per acre) paid by them, which was exacted on the ground that the land so purchased was double in value by virtue of its proximity to a railroad line. This is a brief and imperfect synopsis of some of the results of my efforts as Delegate.

A Delegate has not even the unit of political power--a vote on any measure; he can therefore form no combination to further friendly legislation in the interest of his Territory. The Delegates from the different Territories, however, were regarded as quite an influential body of men, and were usually able, by scattering through the House, by use of personal persuasion, by attendance before committees and receiving favorable reports, to get a part, at least, of what they desired for their Territories.

While a member of the House of Representatives I was much interested in the study of its members and its mode of operation. The popular opinion is that it is a calm and deliberative body. This is true as a general rule; but there are times, and they are not infrequent, when the House is anything else than a sedate and deliberative body of men.