THE “CITY GUARD”
A HISTORY
OF
COMPANY “B”
First Regiment Infantry, N. G. C.

DURING THE SACRAMENTO CAMPAIGN

July 3 to 26, 1894

INCLUDING

A Brief History of the Company since its Organization
March 31, 1854, to July 3, 1894

FILMER-ROLLINS ELECTROTYPE CO.
Typographers, Electrotypers and Stereotypers
424 SANSOME ST., SAN FRANCISCO

Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1895,
By Company B, “City Guard,” 1st Reg. N. G. C.,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

To the members of the “City Guard,” past, present, and to
come, this, our Company’s maiden effort, is
respectfully dedicated.

CONTENTS.

PREFACE.

On September 1, 1894, shortly after the return of the company from its campaign at Sacramento, a committee of four was appointed, to be known as the history committee, to gather as much material concerning that campaign as possible, and to put it in a readable and concise form. The following were appointed: Lieutenant George Filmer, Corporal A. McCulloch, Privates W. J. Hayes and Wm. D. O’Brien.

The committee began its work enthusiastically and at once, as they believed that the most beneficial results could be attained by “striking while the iron is hot.” Their progress was necessarily slow; but when taken in connection with the circumstances, that the committee were engaged in earning their livelihood during the day, and thus limited in their work upon the history to their spare moments, and further, that they also took great care to prevent inaccuracies from creeping into their labors, the progress made, when viewed in this light, cannot be said to be unusually slow.

The idea of publishing a history was not an original idea, but rather it is the result of the gradual development of an incipient idea by a process of evolution containing three distinct steps. First it was only intended to have a short account written of the campaign and pasted in the company’s scrapbook; then, with this as a basis, the idea developed into the form of a printed pamphlet, and finally blossomed into the shape in which it now appears.

It was the intention of the committee to have the entire book set up by members of the company who were compositors by trade, and who had kindly volunteered their services. But, on account of the limited time that the volunteer compositors could bestow upon the work, it was found necessary, after about one-half the book had been thus set up, to give the work to an outside publishing house, in order to present to the company a complete history of the campaign before the memory of this memorable event would be beyond the “time of which the mind of man doth not run.” And even though the members of the company were unable, through no fault of their own, to set up the entire work, the committee desires to acknowledge its appreciation of the kindness and the valuable assistance given by these members, viz: George Claussenius, W. L. Overstreet, Wm. McKaig, J. Brien, and R. E. Wilson.

The committee further desires to thank Lieutenant Hosmer, Adjutant First Battalion, First Regiment Infantry, N. G. C., and Sergeant H. B. Sullivan, “of ours,” for the kind assistance they rendered the committee in making negatives of each tent crowd of the company.

It may be well here to mention the fact that at the request of the committee, Captain I. B. Cook consented to write the brief history of the Company. For this work and the thoroughness with which it is done, the committee extend to him its sincere thanks.

The committee do not pretend to uphold the book as a work of any great literary merit; and, while they do not propose to offer any excuses for the book, still they hope at least that it is free from any obvious signs of crudity or provincialism: it stands upon its own merits.

The work is largely of a personal nature, and, as such, has made the introduction of personalities unavoidable; but while this is so, the committee have tried to eliminate every thing of such a character which, in their judgment, would offend the most sensitive nature. In case, however, their judgment has erred at times, and things do appear which wound the feelings of some, the committee trust that the attempted witticism, for it is nothing more, will be received in the same spirit that it is offered, namely “peace, goodwill to all.”

In judging the results of their labor the committee beg that those judging will say, in the words of Miss Muloch:

“Not that they did ill or well,

But only that they did their best.”

B COMPANY IN HEAVY MARCHING ORDER, SACRAMENTO, JULY, 1894.

THE CAUSE (?)

CHAPTER I.

THE STRIKE AND ITS EFFECT.

AS the tiny stream that wends its course down the mountain slope on the way to the sea grows gradually larger and deeper by the successive uniting with it of similar streams until at last it becomes the mighty river in which its identity is completely lost, so a small labor movement springing up in a little town named Pullman in the vicinity of Chicago, and spreading out westward and southward, became larger and greater at each successive juncture with it of the employees of the railroad until at last, when its progress was stopped by the cool waves of the Pacific, it had grown to be a movement of gigantic proportions, stupendous in its effects, in which the primal cause of the movement was lost. California was particularly affected. Never before in the history of the State had she experienced such a movement as this. Traffic was completely stopped. Business was paralyzed. Goods could neither be received nor sent away. Merchants were laying off their employees and getting ready to close up their houses. Not a wheel of the Southern Pacific Company was turning in the State.

This movement had its source in a disagreement between the managers and the employees of the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company. By successive reductions the wages of the employees had become greatly reduced, far below that which the existing condition of affairs would seem to justify. This, considered with certain other circumstances, caused a great deal of dissatisfaction among the men of the works. The accompanying circumstances, which served to intensify the dissatisfaction, were of a nature peculiar to the town of Pullman itself. A fair estimate would place the inhabitants of this town at about four thousand, all of whom are directly or indirectly dependent for subsistence upon the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company. Not only are they connected with the company by bond of employer and employee, but also are they related as landlord and tenant, and as creditor and debtor. Pullman has been nicknamed “the model town.” But there is more than one way of looking at this model town, just as there is more than one way of looking at a model jail. To a man like Carlyle, who had no sympathy for transgressors of the law, a jail like the famous Cherry Hill prison of Pennsylvania would be a model jail; for here a prisoner is confined in a single cell for the entire term of his confinement, with no other occupation than that of picking jute. But to the prisoner himself who is incarcerated there, it is a model jail, where he “who once enters leaves all hope behind.” So with the town of Pullman. To the stockholders of the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company, who see in its organization innumerable opportunities for enriching themselves at the expense of the workman, it is a model town. But to the poor employees, who encounter at every turn the grasping hand of the monopoly, it is a model town symbolical of all that characterizes slavery. In the hands of the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company resides the entire property of the town. They not only own the water and gas works, and the houses, but also sell to their employees the very necessities of life. All the inhabitants of the town are tenants; none are freeholders. From this it is easy to imagine the situation when a large cut was made in the wages. The corporation, you may be sure, never thought of making a corresponding reduction in the rent of the houses, or in the water and gas rates, or in the price of food. With greatly reduced wages, reduced to considerably less than what the artisans engaged in similar crafts were getting in the adjacent municipality of Chicago, and with rents and water, and gas rates correspondingly higher, the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company expected its employees to adjust themselves to the new condition of affairs. The chasm, however, was altogether too wide to be bridged. The men were compelled by the force of necessity to resist the reduction.

About the beginning of May, 1894, a committee of thirty-nine, representing every department in the works, waited upon Mr. Pullman, president of the company, and laid the case before him. They asked that the old rates, which were one-third higher than the present rates, be re-established. In spite of the fact, that at about the time the committee waited upon Mr. Pullman the company was paying large dividends, and had an enormous reserve fund, and further still, in spite of the fact, that Mr. Pullman had enough of spare cash to donate one hundred thousand dollars to a church, the petition was denied. The plea given was, that the state of business would not stand the increase of wages. The matter did not stop here. The car company was very indignant at the apparent intrusion of the workmen into the affairs of their business. How dare employees suggest to them how they shall conduct their business. The outcome of it was, that the men who formed the committee were individually discharged from their service. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The entire body of workmen struck. This was the direct strike.

A new element now enters into the strike. The employees of the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company, as a body, were affiliated with an organization known as the American Railway Union. The constitution of this latter organization was of such an elastic character as to be capable of being stretched so far as to include not only those who worked for the railroad proper, but also all who were employed upon any kind of railroad work whatsoever. The strike was referred by the workmen of Pullman to this higher body for settlement. The American Railway Union investigated the grievances of the men, and concluded that the strike was a just one; one worthy of their support. On June 23d, after having tried for a period of six weeks to adjust the difficulties between the men and their employers without success, the Executive Board of the Union gave notice to the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company, that, unless they agreed to the terms of settlement by the 27th of June, a boycott would be placed upon all Pullman cars. In other words the members of the union would refuse to handle any trains to which were attached Pullman cars. The 27th of June coming around with no signs of compliance on the part of the Pullman Company the threat of the union was put into execution. The entire Santa Fé System, comprising about seventeen different lines and operating throughout that part of the country southward of Chicago to the Gulf and westward to the Pacific, was affected. This new phase of the strike, known as the sympathetic strike, was destined to be the greatest labor movement that America had ever experienced.

This is the method by which the American Railway Union undertook to bring the Pullman corporation to terms. In their letter to the public they stated that it was not their intention to tie up the railroads. They were willing to handle trains, provided Pullman cars were left off. This was, they said, the only means they had of striking the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company. In case a quarrel arose between them and the railroad companies it would be a quarrel that was forced upon them, and not one of their choosing. The railroad companies, on the other hand, were unable to separate their interests from the interests of the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company, so they took the quarrel upon their own shoulders. They were determined to send trains out with Pullman cars attached, or else they would not send any at all. On the 27th of June, the day that the boycott was placed upon Pullman cars, traffic over the entire Santa Fé system came to a standstill. The railroad employees, that is, those employees who were engaged in the strike—the firemen, switchtenders and switchmen—refused to move trains with Pullman cars attached, and the railroad companies refused to send out trains without them. And so began the sympathetic strike.

Every State, in which the lines of the above-mentioned system operated, was severely affected. In the East the unique position held by Chicago with regard to the different lines of railroads made it the hotbed of the strike. Seventeen different lines meet in Chicago. These being tied up, Chicago became the congregating point for many thousand strikers, some of whom were exceedingly desperate characters. Chicago, in the course of the strike, was the scene of many aggressive operations, and numerous were the conflicts between the troops and strikers, of which some resulted in fatalities. In the West the strike presented some features which were not manifested in the East. No State suffered more severely from the strike than did California. That the effect was so severe on California was due probably to its isolation; to its entire dependence upon railroad transportation, and to the fact that a great part of its produce consisted of fruit, which has to find a ready market in the East. These facts, coupled with the fact that the tie-up came at that time in the year when the fruit was ripe and ready for shipping, and thus dependant upon rapid transportation for its value, are evidence enough of the injurious effects of the strike upon California. And yet, in spite of the ruinous consequences, it is strange to say that the sympathy of the people was almost unanimously with the strikers. The press of California has been severely criticised by the Eastern press for the manner in which it espoused the cause of the strikers. Yet the California press was only reflecting the opinions of the people.

The first scene of act one of the strike in California took place on the 27th of June. The overland trains, which are the only trains that carry Pullman cars with the exception of the Yosemite, did not leave the Oakland mole that day as usual. Throughout the 27th and part of the 28th all other trains ran as usual. But on the 28th President Debs of the American Railway Union telegraphed from Chicago to the heads of the local unions to tie up the entire Southern Pacific Company. The strike now began to operate in California with full force.

In such railroad centers of California as Los Angeles, Oakland, and Sacramento the strike assumed threatening aspects. In Sacramento the aspect was particularly alarming. Los Angeles and Sacramento are the two controlling centers for all lines that leave the State. The strike in neither Los Angeles nor Oakland reached the importance or received the attention that it did in Sacramento. This was due to the fact that in Los Angeles it was brought under control before it gained much headway. While in Oakland, though Oakland was invested by a large number of strikers who managed to do a good deal of mischief and damage, such as cutting the air-brakes on freight trains, and even going so far as to stop the entire local system, thus compelling the residents of the bay towns to resort to a provisional ferry; yet even while they did all this, it made little practical difference to the outcome of the strike whether the strikers reigned there or not as long as Sacramento or Los Angeles remained under their control. Sacramento and Los Angeles therefore were the backbone of the strike in California.

As the time wore on a peaceful settlement of the strike seemed to grow less. The railroad company, on the one hand, was determined not to yield. The strikers, on the other hand, were getting impatient and angry at the rigidness of the railroad officials, and with this, growing more conscious of their power, seemed ready to set aside all legal restraints and resort to violent deeds to force an acquiescence to their will. Sacramento, where the strikers held forth in full sway, was the point toward which the attention of the people was directed. Speculation became rife as to what would be the outcome. That things could not continue in such a state much longer was universally conceded. The seriousness of the affair, however, kept rolling on. Complaints of people tied up at the different places in the State were increasing every day. Baggage and freight was accumulating with wondrous rapidity. Delayed mail—and here is where the strikers came in conflict with Uncle Sam—was piling up on every hand. It was only a question of time when the dam would break.

It was on June 29th that the first rumors were heard about calling out the State troops. A situation like this cannot fail to be other than closely related to the life of the National Guard. While California had been hitherto practically free from movements of this kind the Eastern States had not been so fortunate. It seems next to an impossibility for a railroad strike of any size to occur without its being accompanied by violence and crime. Time after time had the Eastern National Guard been called out to suppress strikers, who had finally deteriorated into rioters. The one seemed to follow the other as effect follows cause. As soon as a strike was inaugurated the people of the East looked for the effect, namely the calling out of the National Guard. This mode of thinking influenced the thought of California. The people now began to look to the State troops. The members of the National Guard were especially interested in the situation, for when they joined they little thought that they would be called upon to face any real danger. A sham battle at camp was about as near as they ever expected to get to an actual engagement. But as things began to look serious, their interest in affairs grew in intensity. “Great Heavens! we might be called out.” So they anxiously awaited further developments.

CHAPTER II.

THE NATIONAL GUARD CALLED OUT.

ON July 1st Uncle Sam took a hand in the game. Attorney General Olney sent instruction to the United States district marshals, whose jurisdiction was over that territory affected by the strike, to execute the process of the court, and prevent any hinderance to the free circulation of the mails. In accordance with these orders the United States marshal of the Southern District of California called upon General Ruger, commander of the western division of the Regular Army to furnish assistance at Los Angeles. Six companies, three hundred and twenty men, under the command of Colonel Shafter, were dispatched on July 2d for this place. They left San Francisco on the 10:30 P. M. train. To act in conjunction with the Regular Troops, Barry Baldwin, United States Marshal for the Northern District of California was at Sacramento with a large number of deputy United States marshals, sworn in for the occasion. The plan was to break, almost simultaneously, the blockade at these two places. The regulars experienced but little difficulty at Los Angeles. Not so, however, with the United States marshal and his deputies at Sacramento. The mob of strikers here was larger, more desperate, and better organized than at any other place in the State. On the afternoon of the 3d of July Baldwin attempted to open up the blockade. The operation of making-up the trains was calmly watched by the strikers. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, when all of a sudden at a given signal the strikers rushed forward, and in a few minutes demolished what had been the result of several hours labor. At this the wrath of Marshal Baldwin knew no bounds. He attempted to force his way through the strikers, but was thrown several times to the ground. Regaining his feet after one of these falls he drew a revolver; but, before he could use it, he was seized and disarmed, and, were it not for the presence there of some cool heads, would have been severely handled. The marshal seeing the hopelessness of the situation withdrew, leaving the depot in possession of the strikers. That very afternoon, however, he called upon Governor Markham for military assistance to aid him in forcing and maintaining a free passage for the mails. In response to this call Major General Dimond of the National Guard of California was ordered to furnish the necessary assistance, using his discretion as to the number of men required. It was deemed advisable to call out a large force, as the experience of the Eastern militia in strike troubles showed that the display of a large force had a salutary effect. The following troops were ordered out: Of the Second Brigade, commanded by Brigadier General Dickinson, the First Regiment Infantry, under the command of Colonel Sullivan, the Third Regiment Infantry, Colonel Barry commanding; one-half of the Signal Corps, under the command of Captain Hanks, and a section of the Light Battery, consisting of Lieutenant Holcombe, twelve men and a Gatling gun; of the Third Brigade, Companies A and B of the Sixth Regiment, under the command of Colonel Nunan; of the Fourth Brigade, commanded by Brigadier General Sheehan, Companies A, E, and G; of the Second Infantry Regiment, Colonel Guthrie commanding, the Signal Corps and Light Battery B. In all about one thousand men. The following troops were ordered to hold themselves in readiness: The Fifth Regiment Infantry, Colonel Fairbanks commanding, consisting of two companies in Oakland, one in Alameda, one in San Rafael, one in Petaluma, one in Santa Rosa, and one in San Jose; the Second Artillery Regiment, Colonel Macdonald commanding, and the First Troop Cavalry, commanded by Captain Blumenberg. The San Francisco troops were ordered to be ready to leave that evening. Companies A and B of Stockton, under command of Colonel Nunan, were ordered to be ready to join the San Francisco troops as they passed through Stockton the following morning. The Sacramento troops were to join the main body upon their arrival at the Capital City.

Colonel Sullivan received orders to assemble his troops at about 5:35 P. M. Colonel Barry was notified a little later. Both proceeded immediately to carry out their orders. The calling out of the troops had been anticipated by the officers of the National Guard. On Monday evening, July 2d, Colonel Sullivan called a meeting of the company commanding officers and arranged with them a plan that would insure the effective and rapid massing of the troops. The plan was this: The roll of each company was to be divided up into squads and a non-commissioned officer assigned to each squad, whose duty it would be, in case it became necessary, to see that the members of that squad were notified. Experience proved that the plan was exceedingly effective. Captain Cook lost no time in applying it to Company B. On the very same night he assembled the non-commissioned officers of the company, and assigned a squad of the company to each. Further, each non-commissioned officer, for the purpose of expediency, was given the following pre-emptory order:

“San Francisco, July 3d, 1894.

“Company Orders No. 8.

“You are hereby commanded to report at your armory immediately in service uniform upon reading this order. Bring your blankets, suit of underclothing, and two days’ rations to pack in your knapsack. Report without fail. Let B Company be the first in line for suppressing riot.

Irving B. Cook, Commanding Company.”

This was the plan by which the company was to be massed at short notice When the time came to test its effectiveness it had been so well applied to the company that it was like pressing the button and the entire machinery started in motion. Within an incredible short space of time after Captain Cook received orders to assemble his company, non-commissioned officers in charge of squads were speeding on their respective missions of notification. Many members, hearing that the militia were called out, reported without receiving any official notice. Company B was not the only company, nor was the First Regiment the only regiment, that had taken time by the forelock and laid plans for the rapid massing of their men. Subsequent developments showed that arrangements had been made beforehand in all the companies of both regiments and that these arrangements had well fulfilled their end.

Thus far we have but considered one end of the action. Let us therefore transfer ourselves to the other end, namely the thresholds of the homes of the members. Here scenes occurred the memory and influence of which will never be forgotten. What a feeling of gloom and of sadness settled upon that household after the notifying officer had hurried up the steps, rang violently the door-bell and notified him, who was both a member of the family and a member of the National Guard, to report for duty at the armory. We may now talk lightly of the things we have done. We may now laugh heartily over the experiences of those campaigns. The public may sneer at the results which we have accomplished, but who could say on the night we were called out that the duty which we were ordered to perform was not such that we had no assurance of ever returning again to the bosom of our families. Is there a man who would speak lightly of the tear that glistened in the mother’s eye or the quivering of her lips? Who is there that would ridicule the sobbing of the sisters and of the wives, or sneer at the deep, heartfelt emotion of the father hidden beneath a gruff voice. Shame on him who has for these no thought but scorn! “Parting is such sweet sorrow,” the poet sings. Until the night of the 3d few of us however recognized this truth. Parting is sorrow, but ah! how sweet it is to know something of that great affection with which we are held. Thank God there come such times as these when the mist of humdrum life is lifted and we behold our position in the hearts of our family.

Many of us still remember how, while in our boyhood days, our souls used to thrill and how inspired we were when we read that after the battle of Lexington, old Israel Putnam left his plow yoked in the fields, mounted his fastest horse, hurried to Boston and offered his services to his country. But when we left those happy days behind us and went out into the cold, prosaic, and selfish world, and thought of Putnam’s noble and inspiring patriotism, a feeling of regret would arise within us to feel that there were no more Putnams. But during the late excitement we were undeceived. Right here among us we have such patriots. Patriots whose example ought to inspire and thrill every citizen. Like Old Putnam, they also paused in the midst of their toil and, without waiting to be notified, hastened to offer their services to their State. Would that the grave could open up, so that Old Putnam might rest contented in the belief that the destinies of this Republic are presided over by young patriots worthy of their revolutionary sires.

To come back to the First Regiment Armory again. Throughout the evening it presented both inside and out an animated appearance. Fully five hundred people were gathered in front of the armory watching the course of developments. Inside of the armory men were hastening to and fro. Others were gathered into groups talking in an excited tone over the unusual event. In Company B’s rooms members were busily packing their knapsacks, rolling their blankets, and getting into their uniforms. Every now and again some member who was notified late in the evening would come running in and endeavor to make up for lost time. The experience of being called out was to them a novel one. Whoever thought that they—the National Guard, the “tin soldiers”—would ever be called upon to do anything more arduous or dangerous than to parade the streets on a holiday for the sake of eliciting admiration from the fair sex. Here was an opportunity for them of a lifetime to dissolve forever the charge of the contemptuous wretch, who stands upon the edge of the sidewalk during a parade of the National Guard and sneeringly remarks: “If they only smelt powder, how they would run.” Every member of the Guard determined that they would on this occasion establish a reputation far beyond the possibility of ever being open to the charge of being “sidewalk soldiers” again. They would—and many a noble resolve was made that night. To those standing upon the street watching the preparations of the militia to depart and who derisively jeered, the men said nothing, but to themselves said: “You just wait a few days my fine fellows and we will show you what we can do.” But alas, who can ever tell what the wheels of time will bring forth. At the same time everyone was more or less excited. Some were gay, others were thoughtful, and again some probably felt a peculiar sadness, feeling perhaps as though they were taking their last leave of those persons and things which were closely associated with their lives. Even the turning of the key of their locker was done with tenderness. For who knew that this would not be the last time. All, however, were ready for orders.

At 9:40 P. M. the command was given to “fall in.” Company B proceeded to the drill-hall, where they were formed by First Sergeant A. F. Ramm. On roll-call the following men answered to their names:

Upon the completion of the roll-call the company was turned over to the command of Captain Cook. In five minutes the entire regiment was mustered and formed in a hollow square. The size of the companies spoke volumes for the reputation of the regiment. It was now a little over three hours since the non-commissioned officers started on their tours of notification, and probably not more than an hour since some of the members were notified; still, here was almost the full regiment, thirty officers and three hundred and forty-six men, prepared to march. The zeal and alacrity with which the orders were obeyed is worthy of commendation. The men as they stood in ranks, attired in their campaign uniforms, their knapsacks and blankets strapped to their backs, presented a striking appearance. May their appearance that night never fade from our memories. Colonel Sullivan stepped into the center of the square and made the following remarks:

“Men, we have been ordered to Sacramento to preserve the peace and dignity of the State. This is not a picnic trip; it is a serious duty. I have confidence that every man will do his full duty. I hope that our members will impress the enemy with the fact that we mean business, and I hope that no other recourse will be necessary. But if it becomes necessary to give orders to use ball and cartridge you must do it. You must remember that your own lives are at stake, and you will fire low, and fire to kill. These are hard words, but they are necessary words. I hope that we will return with the full number assembled here, and with honor and credit to the regiment. Fours right!”

Each company executed the necessary movement, and marched out of the armory. The march was continued uninterrupted down Market street until Spear street was reached. Here a halt was made, and ammunition served out to the troops—twenty rounds to each man. The ammunition being distributed, the regiment marched upon the steamer Oakland, where they were joined shortly by the Third Regiment Infantry of twenty-six officers and two hundred and fifty-one men, and at ten minutes past eleven o’clock the troops bade farewell to San Francisco, and started for their destination.

The farewell reception the troops received from the public on their way down Market street, and while at the ferry, was one of a very mixed nature. Among the persons gathered to see us take our departure were a large number of men endowed with socialistic tendencies, whose view of the situation was so narrow that they viewed the calling out of the militia as an act of the Government’s to abet the railroad company in oppressing its employees, and not as an act necessary to maintain the laws of the land which guarantee to all equal rights in the protection of their property. These men jeered and cast all sorts of slurs at the men as they marched along. They sincerely wished that the strikers would give the troops their quietus. This was one extreme. The other extreme was made up of men of equally as narrow a view. These seemed to think that the workman had no rights whatever, and above all things, not even a shadow of a right to strike. They believed, or, if they did not believe it, they certainly acted as if such were their belief, that the workingman should submit to all restrictions placed upon him, and that, if he attempted to rise above his conditions, then the Government should force him back again. These are the men who called upon us to blow the scoundrels to pieces. Between these two extremes there was a third element, made up of men who had a true insight into the condition of affairs: men who fully recognized the place that strikes hold in the development of the human race; men who detect in these visible presentations of discontent the conscious awakening of the workingman to a noble conception of his place in the history of civilization. It was from this stamp of men that the militia received its real encouragement; for they saw plainly that the ends of the workingman could not be attained through the disregard of the laws, but it was only by his developing with them and through them that he could even reach his true plane. Therefore, above all things, they desired to see the supremacy of the laws maintained. Viewing the calling forth of the militia as an instrument by which this was to be accomplished, they cheered and urged the troops to do that duty they had sworn to fulfill.

Upon the steamer Oakland reaching the other side the troops disembarked and marched up the mole. They were wheeled into line and halted. The command “Rest” was then given. Here the first of a series of provoking delays took place. The trains, which were to bear the troops to their destination were not fully made up; consequently the troops had to remain standing, at the time they most needed rest, upon the cold asphaltum for fully an hour. This does not speak well for those who were managing the transportation of the troops. It was extremely aggravating to the men, fatigued as they were after their march down Market street laden with baggage, to feel that, had a little foresight been exercised, they, instead of being compelled to stand upon the pavement for over an hour, might have passed that time in resting. A soldier, even though he is of the rank and file, is a human being, and needs as much rest as any other human being. At 1 A. M., July 4th, the troops were ordered aboard the train, and a start was made for Sacramento. The train was divided into two sections. The First Regiment was on board the first section, while the Third Regiment, together with the section of the Light Battery, occupied the second, and which followed after the first at about an interval of ten minutes. Major General Dimond and staff accompanied the troops, and took passage on the second section. Brigadier General Dickinson and staff journeyed on the first section.

Each company had a separate car assigned to them. The members of Company B lost no time in relieving themselves of their knapsacks and blankets. Some of the men made up berths at once with the intention of getting as much rest and under as favorable conditions as possible. Others however thought it a waste of time to go to all this trouble for what they supposed would be but a few hours rest; so they simply stretched their legs upon the opposite seat and thus went to sleep. Here was another mistake. How much better it would have been had the men been informed that instead of a three hours’ journey before them they would be on the road eight or nine hours. The men then would have made due preparations for a good night’s rest. The Keeley Club, of which more will be related hereafter, appropriated a section of the sleeper to themselves, and, not knowing but what the days of some of them were numbered, proceeded to have a good time while they yet lived, for they knew that if any of their number did fall in the conflict with the strikers, that they would be a long time dead. All the early hours of the morning sounds of revelry could be heard coming from their apartment. Every now and again some tired individual, whose repose was broken by these revelers, would impatiently demand in language more forcible and expressive than can be represented here why it was they could not keep still. Ever and anon Captain Cook’s voice would be distinguished above the dim. “That will do now, let us have more quiet.” The effect of these commands was but temporary. A moment later they were at it again. And so passed the morning.

Precautions were taken to attract the least amount of attention possible. The window-shades were drawn so as to prevent the gleam of lights from tempting missiles from the strikers. In spite of these precautions, just after the train passed Sixteenth Street Station, a rock was hurled through the window of the cab of the second section narrowly missing the head of the engineer. Before the First Regiment left the armory, details were selected from each company to act as train guards, and placed under the command of Lieut. Thompson of Company G. Their special duty was to guard the engine. Company B, Third Infantry, Captain Kennedy commanding, was detailed as train guard for the second section. Besides these guards sentinels were posted by the First Sergeants of each company at both ends of the cars. These men were stationed upon the platforms and relieved every hour. Their orders were of a twofold nature: First, they were to prevent anyone from leaving the car; Secondly, they were to alight whenever the train stopped and see that no one interfered in any way with it. Any person they saw approaching the train they were to call upon to “halt.” If the order was not obeyed they were to warn him, and finally if this proved ineffectual they were to fire upon him. Each sentinel loaded his piece as he went on duty. No sentinel had occasion to carry out literally his orders as the journey to Sacramento was practically uneventual. At Sixteenth street, Oakland, the train was delayed for a short time. Here it was found that the Block switch system would not work, the pipes containing the wires having been cut, thus rendering the entire system useless. The nature of the damage having been ascertained, the train proceeded on its way.

When the train stopped at Sixteenth Street Station the sentinels alighted in pursuance of their orders. There were a considerable number of people gathered at this place. Here it was that an unknown person, who was evidently a striker bent on mischief, but who claimed to be a deputy marshal, was given an opportunity of measuring the caliber of the men of the “City Guard” and of the National Guard in general. This person emerged from the crowd and was approaching the train, when Private George Claussenius, noticing him, called upon him to halt. The fellow, not a bit disturbed merely said: “Oh, that’s all right, I’m a deputy marshal.” This explanation might have been accepted in some quarters, but this time he knocked upon the wrong door. Claussenius quickly threw up his rifle, and forcibly said, “I don’t care who you are; Halt!” The man paused, undecided whether to advance or retreat. Lieut. Lundquist, who was standing upon the platform, took in the situation. “Claussenius,” he quietly said, “if that man advances a step further shoot him.” In an instant the man’s indecision vanished. He turned and slunk back into the crowd. The man’s identity was never ascertained. If he was a striker the reception he received was a proper one; and if he was a deputy marshal he can thank his stars that his departure was not accelerated by the prod of a bayonet. These men, recruited in many instances from the scum of mankind gave themselves the airs of a Lucifer. But before the campaign was over more than one of them was taken down a peg or two by the different members of the National Guard.

At Tracy Private O’Brien had an amusing experience with a rustic. It was early in the morning. The sun had just begun to trace his westward course in the heavens. The fields, with one exception, seemed deserted, as far as the eye could stretch. The air held a deep stillness which was broken only by the sweet singing of the birds and disagreeable snoring of the soldiers. It was a beautiful opening of a Fourth of July morning. Crossing one of the fields at this time was a country rustic who, upon seeing the train, had his curiosity aroused; so, changing his direction, he advanced toward it. It so happened he approached the car that O’Brien was guarding. What a queer specimen! He was attired as the rustic is generally represented upon the stage. His trousers were drawn up almost to his neck by an abbreviated pair of suspenders. His head was covered by a well-battered straw hat, and his feet incased—O’Brien swears that they were number 14—in a cowhide pair of boots. O’Brien amusingly sized him up until he arrived within about four feet from the car, then suddenly stepping forward he brought his piece with a snap to the “charge bayonet,” and cried out sharply “halt.” Astonished at the unexpected sally, the rustic started involuntarily backward and exclaimed, “Why the gol darn thing’s got stickers on ’em.” A visible representation of the stickers was enough for the countryman. He did not approach closer.

The men as they awoke into consciousness that morning, but little refreshed by their short repose, were surprised to find that Sacramento was still a considerable distance off. It seems that those who were engineering the transportation of the troops thought it would be safer to proceed to the capital by way of Stockton, instead of going direct. The men now began to realize what a bitter teacher experience is. In their excitement and bustle over being called out, and also on account of the pretty general opinion that existed among the men that the service we were to perform would not last more than a day or two at the most, many of the men paid little attention to the order telling them to bring rations and underclothing. As the morning gradually advanced unto noon their stomachs began to remind them that it was time to eat. They were ready to eat; but what? That was what troubled them. Fortunately the company is possessed of some far-sighted minds when the subject under consideration is the stomach. These men had brought with them a good supply of food. But even when these divided their supply in true Samaritan style, the quantity given to those that did not bring food was so small that it alleviated but slightly the pangs of hunger. Company B suffered less in this respect than did the other companies. A large number of B’s men love their stomach too well to run the smallest chance of having it suffer. Future developments will disclose what dreadful effects the misusing of their beloved organ had upon the men. The hungry mortals looked forward longingly for their arrival at Sacramento. For here surely they would be adequately supplied. But they were doomed to disappointment. Adjutant General Allen worked upon this hypothesis, that if the men did not bring the rations he ordered them to, they themselves were to blame and must therefore suffer the consequences. But how foolish is such reasoning. What if the men are to blame? Is it not the duty of a general to see that his men receive the proper subsistence. It is indeed a poor commander who hopes for success and at the same time allows his men to suffer hunger in the midst of plenty. Happily the men did not know what awaited them, they were content to live in hopes.

The train passed through Stockton at about 6:30 A. M. Here Companies A and B of the Sixth Regiment were standing in line ready to join the San Francisco regiments and proceed to the capital. They were taken on board the second section. The journey from Stockton was soon finished, and at 8:30 A. M. the first section arrived in Sacramento, and stopped at Twenty-first street.

THE MOB IN FRONT OF THE DEPOT AT SACRAMENTO, JULY 4TH, 1894.
(BARRY BALDWIN HARANGUING THE STRIKERS FROM THE TOP OF A PULLMAN CAR.)

CHAPTER III.

FOURTH OF JULY AT SACRAMENTO.

“In war take all the time for thinking that the circumstances allow, but when the time for action comes, stop thinking.”

Andrew Jackson.

SACRAMENTO at last! Ah, boys, little did we think when our section pulled in at Twenty-first street, that we were now on the future field of the great and glorious, but bloodless battle of “The Depot.” The battle of strategic “co-operations” and still existing “truces,” in which we were destined to take such a prominent “standing” part.

Sacramento! The scene of our future troubles and joys (much of the former but how very few of the latter). Our troubles began when the order came to sling knapsacks and form in the street. That never to be forgotten 4th of July was a banner day for heat, even in the annals of sultry Sacramento; and as we stepped from our car, tired, hungry, and oh, my! how hot, we were inhumanely confronted by a large sign on the side of a brewery, “Ice Cold Buffalo 5cts.” The eye of many a brave comrade grew watery and his mouth dry as we stood there in the burning rays of the sun with our knapsacks and blankets on our backs facing that sign like a little band of modern Spartans and waiting patiently for the order to march. Soon the “glittering staff,” armed to the teeth, passed “gorgeously” by; the order “forward” echoed along the line, and the “army of occupation” was in motion.

We had arrived and formed at 8:00 and marched at about 8:30. The train stopped at Twenty-first and R streets, and our line of march to the armory was as follows: North along Twenty-first to P, along P to Eleventh, along Eleventh to N, along N to Tenth, along Tenth to L and along L to the armory on the corner of Sixth, in all fully three miles.

Never before did the Old City Guard participate in such a 4th of July “parade.” After a long night of unrest, trudging along block after block through the sweltering heat, without the enlivening sounds of drums or fife, our heavy packs growing heavier at every step, the salt perspiration blinding our eyes, and looking up only to see the heat dancing along the road in front of us, we felt little inclination to joke or notice the open-mouthed wonder of many of the onlookers. Still we could hear the remarks of the bystanders, that they “guessed the strikers felt sick this morning,” or of the apparently less impressed small boy who “reckoned de strikers would pop off dat fatty fust.” The betting was even as to whether he meant Kennedy or Sieberst, but the rival claimants “co-operated” by rendering a decision.

Worn, weary, and hungry we arrived at the Armory at 9:15, and found the Sacramento troops, Companies E and G of the Second Infantry, already under arms. Stacking arms on L street, and a strong guard being left at the stacks, we were marched in column of twos into the armory drill-hall where the now world-renowned “ample breakfast” supplied by Adjutant General Allen, late Second Lieutenant Commissary Department Missouri State Volunteers, awaited us. This, according to General Allen, “ample breakfast,” consisted of coffee strong enough “to run for Congress,” and bread. Certainly a very “ample” breakfast for men who had been awake and traveling all night, many without dinner the evening before, and executed such a trying march that morning. Ample, too, when it is considered that this was intended to serve both as breakfast and lunch, and, it might be dinner.

Thus is a lesson in economy given by the military heads of this great State to the civil heads who may wish to profit thereby.

Thus is the frugality of our forefathers, in their great battle for home and freedom on the shores of the Atlantic, exemplified on the distant shores of the calm Pacific by our ever to be remembered Adjutant General, late Second Lieutenant Commissary Department Missouri State Volunteers.

However, despite our foolish doubts as to the amplitude and quality of our meal, the shade of the hall and the relaxation from the fatigue of the march were very welcome.

While we were regaling ourselves a shot was heard fired in the street in front of the armory; and the report quickly spread that the shot had been fired by a striker in the crowd, wounding a soldier on guard at the stacks. This, however, proved untrue, as it was found that a private of the Sixth, in loading, accidentally discharged his piece, the firing-pin of which seems to have been rusty, the cartridge exploding when he tried to force it home. The bullet struck the front rank man in the calf of the leg, wounding him severely. Passing through the guardsman’s leg, it struck on a rock in the street and split, both pieces glancing into the crowd of sightseers. In the crowd four persons in all were injured, more or less severely; one of them, Mr. O. H. Wing, a citizen of Sacramento, being struck in the abdomen and killed. His death was deeply regretted by the soldiers; especially so as Mrs. Wing, his gentle, high-minded widow, wrote to the soldier, the unfortunate cause of her bereavement, exonerating him from all blame and assuring him of her deepest sympathy.

Having finished our ample breakfast the City Guard was marched from the armory in column of twos, and allowed to rest in the shade of an awning on the corner of Sixth and M streets.

Now and all during the campaign which followed the absurdly childish way in which the press and many of the people looked on the citizen soldiery, and on the work which they were doing at the call of their country, was both surprising and irritating to the men who had left their homes and business to protect the lives and property of their fellow-citizens. It is true this was no wild unled mob. It was worse; as was proven later by the most cold-blooded train wreck and murder ever perpetrated in the West, that of the 12th of July. A murder far beyond the abilities of our ignorant Eastern mobs, planned by the leaders and executed by some of the most important members of the A. R. U.

The absurd position of antagonism to the soldiers taken by the people was instanced on this first morning in what now seems a rather amusing incident, though it needed but little more to make it very serious at the time.

When arms were stacked in the street in front of the armory guards were posted round the building; L street at its crossing with Sixth and for a short distance towards Fifth and Seventh streets being most heavily guarded. This of course stopped the passage of all teams over this street for about the distance of a block. As “B” was leaving the armory to make room for the less fortunate companies which had not yet been introduced to General Allen’s breakfast, by this time reduced to bread and water, we saw an infuriated fool driving a wagon in which were seated two women and a child, lashing his horse at a furious pace through the line of sentries. He had passed several, but just at the crossing of Sixth street met men of sterner stuff. Two sentries, members of a Sacramento company, who happened to be close together and in the center of the street, decided to stop his mad career. One brought his piece to the “charge bayonets” while the other prepared to grasp the horse by the bridle. This he did, and did well, just as the horse reared at the pointed bayonet, carrying the soldier with him. Had he missed his leap for the bridle the horse would most undoubtedly have been impaled on the bayonet. The beast in the wagon became laughably furious when the beast in the shafts was stopped. He wasted his breath shouting out the usual jargon about “being a taxpayer,” etc., but it was of no avail; he was led ignominiously back over the route over which he had made his glorious charge for principle, greeted by the laughing jeers of the crowd that cheered him but a moment before as he made his mad rush to get through. Such is the uncertainty of public favor.

Here in the shade we waited, amusing ourselves as best we could, our guards at the company stacks being relieved every half hour until at 11:15 A. M., we received the order to fall in, preparatory, it seemed to the unconsulted enlisted man, to moving on the depot. This was confirmed in our minds when, having formed at the stacks, we were relieved of the heavy burden of our knapsacks; these being placed on wagons impressed for the purpose.

The division formation was made on Sixth street, the boys of “B” feeling greatly chagrined when they saw Brigadier General Sheehan’s four companies, “E” and “G,” of the Second Infantry, and “A” and “B,” of the Sixth Infantry of Stockton take the van; and surprise, too, thinking, as we did, that the lack of faith in the Sacramento companies at least was the real cause of our call for service. Later on that trying day our misgivings were justified.

The First Regiment under Colonel W. P. Sullivan fell in behind General Sheehan’s command. The First Battalion, under Major Geo. R. Burdick, consisting of companies “A,” Captain Marshall, “H,” Captain Eisen, “G,” Captain Sutliff, and “B,” Captain Cook; and the Second Battalion under Major Jansen, consisting of companies “F,” Captain Margo, “D,” Captain Baker, and “C” under Lieutenant Ruddick. The Third Regiment of Infantry, Colonel Barry commanding, brought up the rear, and acted as guard to the baggage. General Dimond and staff, and the Second Brigade Signal Corps, Captain Hanks, marched in rear of the First Regiment.

The movement toward the depot commenced at about 11:45 A. M., the companies of General Sheehan’s command marching in close column of company, and the San Francisco regiments falling almost immediately into street column formation; the Gatling gun section of Light Battery “A,” under 1st Lieutenant Holcombe, taking position in the hollow of the First Battalion of the First Regiment.

To those in the ranks it seemed as though the large crowds of gayly dressed sightseers which followed us, looked upon our march as a Fourth of July celebration. This, without doubt, was the cause of the remarkable sight which greeted us, as the Sacramento and Stockton companies fell away from our front later in the day, and exposed to our view a motley crowd of men, women, and children. It seemed more like a Saturday afternoon crowd on Market street than a mob resisting the authority of a United States marshal. Still it took but a second glance to tell us that the great majority were strikers.

What interesting studies were our comrades as we marched quietly along toward the depot; how truly were the feelings of each depicted on his face. Here and there fear was to be seen, plainly mingled however, with a determination not to yield to the feelings. Some, too, seemed to feel an elation at the approaching conflict, while by far the greater number marched along with an indifference surprising in men who were answering their first call for actual service, and that, too, against men as well armed as they, angry and determined not to yield a foot. The militia well knew that this was no beer-drinking, stone-throwing, leaderless mob, to which the East is so well accustomed; but, on the contrary, that it was a well-organized and coolly led mob, holding the advantage of position and determined to fight rather than yield.

As the column debouched from Second street into the open ground before the depot, men wearing the A. R. U. badge could be seen rushing in from all directions, summoned, by furious blasts on a steam whistle, a preconcerted signal used by the strikers as soon as the intention of our officers became apparent.

When the head of our column had almost reached the open west end of the depot the command was halted, our battalion still keeping its street column formation. Then commenced a trial far more trying in the minds of most of us than even the hot fight we had so surely expected, would have been. It was now high noon and the sun had reached its zenith, the heat being remarkable even for Sacramento; the road was covered with a fine dust, which, stirred by the restless feet of the waiting soldiers, hung in clouds in the warm air, making breathing almost impossible.

As the column halted, the crowd which had been following us and which gathered at the blast of the steam whistle rushed in around the four foremost companies, completely shutting them off from our view, except for the line of bayonets which glistened above the heads of the mob. Then commenced a scene of confusion almost indescribable. Shouts, cheers and hoarse commands mingling in an uproar that at times was deafening. The strain on the San Francisco troops now became intense; the lack of sleep and food, combined with the terrific heat and the excitement and anxiety of the occasion, began to have its effect; many of the men tottered and fell. They were quickly borne off by their comrades in the ranks or by men of the fife and drum corps, who did efficient service on that trying day, to the hospital, established temporarily in the pipe house of the water company, where the Hospital Corps of the First did heroic work; gaining, as of course, no recognition thereof by the press.

The uproar in front continued. Suddenly the glittering line of bayonets fell and shouts from the mob of “Fall in there!” “Get in front!” “Don’t give a step!” resounded over the tumult. Anxiously we waited to hear the next order, which might ring the deathknell of many of our comrades, when shout after shout pealed out from the excited mob. A thrill ran along our ranks. “They had thrown down their arms.” We gritted our teeth and waited breathlessly for the order to charge. But that order was not to come during that whole trying day. Three times did the report run along the line that the Sacramento men had thrown down their arms and then taken them up again at the entreaty of their officers. The men in our ranks began to feel disgusted. Was this to be the performance gone through by each company in turn? Were they to be cheered and argued with, coddled and cajoled out of the ranks? Standing there in the dust, burning with thirst for water we dare not touch, with the thermometer above one hundred and five degrees in the shade, watching the farce in front, and looking off toward the vacant unprotected south front of the depot, knowing well that a corporal’s squad, if thrown in from the rear, could clear it, and yet powerless to move, it would have been little wonder if the best trained regular troops became disgusted. “Why do we not take the strikers in the rear while they palaver with the men in front?” “Where are our Generals, not a sign of whom have we seen since our arrival, and their staffs, numbering enough in themselves to clear the depot?” However,

“Their’s not to reason why.”

We must stand there and await developments. They were certainly improving our tempers to fight, for we would have fought an European host for the chance to get into that shady depot and escape the burning heat of the dusty road. The men continued to fall on all sides exhausted, and it seemed as if the laurels of victory would deck the brow of a third party—Old Father Sol. The uproar of shouts, cheers, and yells continued in front. Suddenly a wave of surprise, then of satisfaction, passed over us. The Sacramento troops were marching off the ground, followed by a frantic mob of men and boys. Our chance would come soon. Speculation now became rife. Would the Stockton men do the same, or would they press forward against the mob? A few minutes of tumult, mingled yells and cheers for “Stock” settled the question for us. We saw the flash of the bayonets as the pieces were brought to the right shoulder; fours right, column right, and the Stockton companies marched by, cheered to the echo by the strikers.

Our turn at last! A yell of “Three cheers for the San Francisco boys” was answered lustily by the mob. But we had gone beyond that; we wanted that depot, and meant to have it if the officers would only give the order. We grasped our pieces ready for the order, “Forward,” those who were growing sick and dizzy bracing themselves for a final rush. But the order never came. Cries for quiet and of “Baldwin” came from the mob nearest the Depot, and looking over the heads of the crowd we could see Marshal Baldwin mounting to the roof of the cab of one of a string of dead locomotives which stretched along the main line west. He was quickly followed by three or four leaders of the mob, who succeeded in quieting the crowd by assurances of “keep quiet”; “one at a time”; “you’re next”; etc. Now began a novel scene indeed. Imagine a United States marshal, with six hundred soldiers at his back, pleading with a mob with, as it seemed to us, tears in his eyes, to disperse, to surrender the Depot, to return to their homes. From that moment the strikers knew that the day was won, that no troops, no matter how willing, would enter that building while commanded by Marshal Baldwin, without the strikers’ own kind permission. How that mob enjoyed our humiliation and the scene of a United States marshal pleading with them like a child. We had been called from our homes for active service, and now stood, in all our useless bravery, the audience of a farce in real life.

The farce proceeded. The men on the cab draped the marshal’s head with small American flags, exchanged hats with him, and indulged in a few other pleasantries for the edification of their friends below.

THE DEPOT AT SACRAMENTO, JULY 4TH, 1894.

Failing in his first purpose the marshal now began to plead for time that he might meet Mr. Knox or Mr. Compton and talk it over with them; methods which were supposed to have been tried before the call for military aid. He begged for a truce until 3 o’clock. Oh, the irony of it! He, the aggressor, begging for a truce at the hands of a mob until then plainly on the defensive. They refused the truce, the time was too short, they said. “Then 5, 6 o’clock,” appealingly spoke the marshal. Seeing plainly that the day was lost and that any greater delay would now only be injurious to his own men, Col. Sullivan of the First, who, by the way, appeared to be the ranking officer present, though there had been at least four general officers with us in the morning, stepped upon the cab and told the mob, not in tones of pleading, but decidedly, that this truce must be entered into; that his men were not used to such extreme heat, and that he intended to move them into the shade. Suddenly Knox, the leader of the strikers, escorted by a large American flag, emerged from the depot, cheered loudly by the mob. Now, it appears a truce until 6 o’clock was quickly entered into, and the men who had marched confidently through the town that morning were, amid the hoots and jeers of the people, led away, sullen and dispirited, to a vacant lot by the side of the depot. Here the men of the First were allowed to rest and take advantage of such shade as they could find. B and the section of Light Battery A took possession of an old shed; C and G found another in rear of the first, which they appropriated to their own use; D was stretched on the ground a short distance farther on, and the other companies mingled together in the shade of some trees some distance to the right of B’s position. It could now be seen that, among the men, the disgust at the failure to accomplish what we had come such a distance to do, was very great. In B, at least, it was deep and genuine. All during that long sultry day the unprotected front entrance of that cool, shady building had stared us in the face, and yet, for some unaccountable reason, we did not get the order to enter. We felt that the strikers would retire if a company were thrown quietly in through that end, and were justified in our opinion, when, some days later, a corporal’s squad of regulars cleared the place in a few moments.

Under the influence of the rest and shade our excited feelings gradually became relieved. Talk as we might we could not improve our situation, so we soon resigned ourselves to circumstances, and waited as quietly as possible for 6 o’clock. The men of the Hospital Corps, under whose care 150 men had been placed during those three hours, now gradually drew ahead with their work, and soon had all their patients relieved. Out of the 150 soldiers prostrated we are glad to be able to say that only three were from B, and even these, after a few minutes’ rest, were able to lend their assistance to the Hospital Corps themselves.

Delegates from the strikers now made their appearance, with the evident intention of getting the soldiers drunk before six o’clock. Captain Cook, however, ordered his men to accept no invitations to drink. Not to be baffled, the strikers soon reappeared, carrying cases of bottled beer, which the captain quickly refused to allow his men to receive. Still persistent, a striker stepped into the shade of our shed carrying two quart bottles of whiskey, which he proceeded to toss amongst the men. The captain was still on the alert, however, and ordered the bottles returned, telling the overgenerous striker that he would not allow his men to receive liquor.

Lieutenant Filmer and Sergeant Kelly were then sent into town, with orders to purchase two cases of soda water, which, on its arrival, was quickly disposed of. Quartermaster Sergeant Clifford, ever watchful, procured at a coffee house close by a supply of buns, which he quickly manufactured into sandwiches, and distributed amongst his famished comrades.

The scene had by this time become exceedingly picturesque. The tired, wearied men had quieted down, some stretched on the ground sleeping heavily, their heads pillowed on rolled blankets or on knapsacks; others resting in the same way, though chatting quietly, and still others were busily writing letters, using the head of a drum or the back of a knapsack placed on the knees as they sat on the ground as a desk.

It has been commonly reported that the soldiers became boisterously drunk, and fraternized freely with the very men they had come there to fight. If this be so, it was confined almost entirely to the other commands, no man of the First, to our knowledge, and most decidedly none of “B,” being even slightly intoxicated. The afternoon passed slowly by, no apparent preparations being made to resume hostilities at the expiration of the truce. Six o’clock came, but with it no change of position. Now we began to wonder whether or not our “ample breakfast” of the morning was intended to serve as supper, too. If that were so, we decided that man’s nature had changed since General Allen was young, for we certainly began to feel the pangs of hunger.

Our fears were allayed, however, when, at 6:30, the order “Fall in for supper” was given. Taking our arms with us, we were marched, under command of Lieutenant Filmer, to the State House Hotel, where our display of gastronomic powers completely dismayed the scurrying waiters.

Returning from supper our pace was an evidence of the good use we had made of this chance to appease our appetites.

Returned to our shed near the depot, it was evident the position remained unchanged. The different companies were either going to or returning from supper at the various hotels.

The evening passed quietly; many of the men sleeping on the ground where they had thrown their knapsacks.

At about 9:30 P. M. Captain Cook formed the company, and told us that the First would be removed to the Horticultural Hall, on the main floor of which we would be allowed to bivouac that night. The companies were already moving, and “B,” getting possession of an electric car, was the last company to leave. The car, as of course, proved to be the wrong one, and carried us less than half the desired distance. The rest of the way was covered on foot, the company arriving at the hall some little time after the other companies had settled down for the night. What a scene we would have presented to the eyes of a stranger! Every available foot of floor was covered with sleeping forms. The band stand and stage were utilized; even the steps, a very precarious bed indeed, were in demand; and every corner that appeared to offer security from draughts had its quota of men.

Thus ended that great and glorious Fourth of July, in the year of our Lord, 1894. Glorious, indeed, in the annals of this great Empire State of the West.

Thus, too, does history repeat itself. The Fourth of July! The anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, and of that greatest struggle of the Civil War of the Rebellion, the battle of Gettysburg; and now, for all future ages, to be trebly honored as the anniversary of the bloodless battle of the Sacramento Depot.

FIRST REGIMENT CAMP, CAPITOL GROUNDS.

CHAPTER IV.

CAMP ON THE CAPITOL GROUNDS.

THURSDAY morning, July 5th, the weary members of the First Regiment were awakened from a comfortless sleep on the hard floor by the catcalls and shrieks of the early birds. Company F was quartered on the band-stand, and, from this point of vantage, sent up yells that would wake the dead; and clear and loud above all were heard the strident tones of Tommy Eggert. Sleep was out of the question, not to say dangerous, for soon bands of practical jokers were roaming around, like lions, seeking whom they might devour. Private Hayes discovered Sergeant Sturdivant in slumber sweet, his lengthy form enveloped in an immaculate and frilled nightgown, his tiny pink feet (he wears 10’s) incased in dainty worsted slippers fastened with pink ribbons; this was too much. Did he think he was at the Palace Hotel? If he even dreamed of such a thing he was soon to receive a rude awakening. Willing hands seized the blanket on which he lay, and he was yanked out into the middle of the floor. He awoke to find himself surrounded by a howling mob of men, while shouts of laughter filled the hall. What became of the nighty-nighty and those slippers is a mystery; for a number of the souvenir fiends of the company went on a still hunt for those articles, but all in vain, they were never seen afterwards. Ben soon learned to sleep with his clothes on like the rest of the crowd.

Renewed confidence and security filled the rank and file when it was learned that we had received a strong reinforcement in the person of the old (young) Veteran Corporal Lew Townsend.[1]

[1] Corporal Lew R. Townsend is the veteran of the National Guard of California. He is 62 years of age, and has been in constant active duty for 40 years. He joined the First California Guard on July 12, 1854, and was transferred on January 30, 1857, to the City Guard. He remained a member of this organization until April, 1866, the date of the organization of the California National Guard, when it became Company B of the First Regiment Infantry, N. G. C. Lew continued his membership with this latter organization, and at present wears 13 service stripes, which show that he has served 39 years. On September 14th, 1894, he enlisted again, giving him credit for over 40 years of service.

Lew’s motto is “I’ll stay with the boys,” and he is the biggest boy in the crowd himself. Though his feet are going back on him a little, he manages to air his numerous medals, and bejeweled gun at all parades and military displays, and never misses a drill. He is still a good shot, and on Sunday morning, when his Palace Hotel breakfast agrees with him, makes the eyes of the youngsters over at the Shell Mound shooting range stick out of their heads at his remarkable shooting. May his kindly, jolly face be ever with us.

Soon the question of breakfast became of vital interest, and the faces of the boys grew very serious at the thought of a repetition of the heavy breakfast of the day before. But there were better things in store for us. The company received the order to “fall in,” and was marched to one of the downtown hotels, where a good meal was served. Thus fortified, we were ready for any thing, from playing marbles to killing a man. At this meal a nice large size linen napkin was placed at the plate of each man. Hereby hangs a tale. Handkerchiefs and towels were scarce. The boys had already been so well imbued with the principle of “taking,” by the illustrious and industrious example of Quartermaster Arthur Clifford, the great exponent of the art “of acquiring,” that seldom was a napkin seen again by any of the company on a Sacramento hotel dining-table. The honesty and rectitude of Van Sieberst must here receive special mention, his response to the call to serve his country was so hurried that he failed to supply himself with the necessary handkerchiefs and towels; but his fertile brain soon found a way out of this difficulty. He took a napkin, or, when such was not available, a roller towel from the hotel in the morning, used it all day as handkerchief and towel, but—here is where honesty became the best policy—returned the soiled article at supper, appropriated a clean one, and then, at night, slept that calm and peaceful sleep which the just alone enjoy.

After breakfast we were marched back to the hall, and there, for a few delightful hours, disported ourselves in its cool area. This hall and the depot were the only cool spots in Sacramento. Scientists may rave about the spots on the sun, but a cool spot was the only spot that interested the ’Frisco boys while at Sacramento. The hope that we might continue to be quartered in this hall, was soon to be dispelled. The order came to fall in, and, after the usual ceremonies, the regiment was turned over to Colonel Sullivan, who made a short speech, in which he praised the conduct of the men the day before. The failure of the National Guard to accomplish its purpose could not, he said, be attributed to the lack of loyalty on the part of the First Regiment. He further stated that we would at once march over to the lawn of the Capitol where tents would be pitched, and camp established.

During the campaign the men were inflicted with all kinds of oratory. The number of speeches made would do credit to a political campaign, both as to quantity and quality. Colonel Sullivan started the flow of oratory at the armory with his dramatic and forcible “shoot to kill” speech. We had many speeches from him afterwards that ranged from the sublime to the pathetic. Who of us will ever forget the 4th of July, when we stood like Spartans under a blazing sun, listening to the oratory of Marshal Barry Baldwin and the strikers, who held forth from the top of an engine-cab. Major Burdick, many think, came next; but our boys say Captain Cook. We think they stand about even. Major Burdick’s speeches were longer; but, though Captain Cook spoke oftener (he gave us a rattle every morning before breakfast) and his speeches were just as long in point of time—he said less. A number expressed the opinion that these gentlemen were just practicing the art of spouting, to be in good condition to take an active part in the political campaign which would be inaugurated a few months later.

CO. “B” STREET, CAPITOL GROUNDS, SACRAMENTO, CAL.

The regiment was then marched to the Capitol grounds, where tents were pitched on the nice, smooth, green lawn. It was afterwards rumored throughout the camp that this was done despite the objections of General Allen, who wanted the camp pitched on the plowed and broken ground just beyond the lawn. Our good General would not entertain the proposition; considering the comfort and welfare of his men of far more importance than the lawn. Hearing this rumor, the poet laureate of the company, after three days of close application, hard study, and great mental exertion produced the following poetic gem:

Then up spoke General Allen; his voice was fierce and loud,

“Your men must leave this grassy lawn, there is a field just plowed.

It is more meet to send them there; why should the rank and file

Have access around the Capitol, or its green lawns defile?”

Thus spoke the doughty warrior from Missouri’s classic plains;

But a peal of scornful laughter he got for all his pains.

For General Dickinson uprose, and raised on high his hand,

And said: “The gallant soldiers I am honored to command

Shall fare as is befitting our boys so brave and true,

Despite of martinets, whose forte is dress parade review.”

We hailed our dashing General with a hearty three times three,

And Allen of Pike county merged into obscurity.

It was at this juncture that the disciples of Mickey Free, made famous by Charles Lever, made themselves conspicuous, led by William Tooker, the quietest man that ever sold a brogan, they nestled down amid the blankets and comforters that were piled beneath the trees, and gazed with dreamy eyes, through the curling smoke of the ever present cigarette, at their toiling companions erecting the tents under the hot sun. During the day, between the heat and flies, these tents were practically uninhabitable.

While the men were thus busily engaged the busy mind of Quartermaster Clifford was filled with thoughts of the noonday meal; where was it to come from? The regimental commissary department was established in rather a condensed form under a large tent about one hundred feet to the right of the regiment. The men had worked up quite an appetite, and if there is any thing a Guardsman likes to do it is to eat. Clifford’s experience had taught him this, and he resolved that the boys should get what was coming to them, and as much more as he could take. Their confidence in him must not be misplaced. He carelessly strolled over to the commissary’s tent and inquired of the assistant commissary, what time he would call for Company B’s rations; he was informed that as soon as enough sandwiches were made for the regiment each company would get its portion. As soon as they had made enough sandwiches to feed the regiment! This remark set Clifford thinking. It was now 11:30 A. M. and one man making sandwiches for about four hundred half-starved soldiers. Let us see when a “City Guard” man is not hungry; it is quite an easy matter for him to put away four family size sandwiches; then, there are Dick Radke, Frech, Overstreet, Townsend, and a few others who are good for about nine each. That man making sandwiches was likely to be about two thousand years old when he would have his job finished. How to give the boys their lunch at 12 o’clock under these circumstances was a problem that puzzled him deeply; there were several knives lying around, he could take one; but what good would be a knife without the stuff to cut? There was plenty of bread and beef, but should he commit the larceny of them, what would it avail him without a knife to cut and carve with?—

“And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng,

Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along.”

Thus ruminating he was disturbed by a sentry who told him that only those connected with the regimental commissary department were allowed there; he must therefore go. Clifford went—about three feet—and stood with his eyes resting on a pile of tinware, which was also to be issued proportionately with the rations. Something must be done; he must get on the inside track some way. His experience told him that some company was going to get left when the distribution took place, and never should it go down in history that Company B would be that company. No; not while he was quartermaster. His reputation was at stake, he must now, if ever, display the great power, spirit, and desire for “taking” that surged and swelled within his manly breast, only awaiting the opportunity to burst its bounds, and acquire every thing in sight.

But how to get on the inside—ah! an idea strikes him, and he immediately busies himself helping the lonely sandwich-maker. Commissary Sergeant Fitzgerald appears upon the scene and asks Clifford who gave him a position in his sandwich manufactory. Clifford evaded the question by humbly venturing his opinion that it would take all day to make sandwiches for the whole regiment; and why not issue the rations in bulk to each company and let them make their own sandwiches. “A good idea” said the commissary sergeant; and for the suggestion Clifford was allowed to take his company’s rations, which consisted of 10 ℔ corned beef, 5 ℔ cheese, 1 large bologna sausage, 1 roll butter, 12 loaves bread, and last, but not least, the apple of every good soldier’s eye, a keg of hop juice. The stores issued were 2 tin buckets and 20 tin cups.

Clifford began to take the rations, and when he finished taking an inventory of the contents of the capacious chest in his tent, it was as follows: 15 ℔ corned beef, 10 ℔ cheese, 2 large bologna sausages, 2 rolls butter, 18 loaves bread, 8 buckets, 40 tin cups, 2 coffee-pots, 3 dozen each tin plates, knives and forks, 2 large knives, 1 bucket sugar, and 1 bucket coffee. It was a glorious take, a splendid beginning, and well might our quartermaster gaze on the results of his industry and activity with pride, feeling that he had done his whole duty.

LIEUT E. C. LUNDQUIST CAPT. I. B. COOK LIEUT. G. FILMER

For a while Clifford had clear sailing; he was on the inside track; was admitted to the ground floor, so to speak; but on a fatal day the regimental commissary ran short of butter, and the different company quartermasters were notified to that effect. This did not phase Clifford; from the cavernous depths of his chest he produced a roll of rich golden butter; and the gastronomical wheels of the boys’ insides were as liberally greased as if the regimental commissary had tons of butter. Not so with the members of the other companies, the sandwiches that were wont to slip down their throats when well buttered now rasped tissues and membranes in a most painful manner; a great howl was sent up thereat, and a still greater howl when it was discovered that B’s men had butter. The other company quartermasters thinking the regimental commissary was unjustly discriminating in favor of Company B made a great kick to Fitzgerald. Company B have butter, impossible! They received no butter from him, this mystery must be solved, he straightway swooped down on Clifford, and taking him unawares discovered the well-filled condition of his larder, there he saw many things whose disappearance from his quarters puzzled him not a little, he had discovered the leak in his stores, and ever afterwards Clifford was looked upon with a suspicious eye. Whenever he was seen approaching the commissary department, Fitzgerald immediately made a hasty inventory of everything in sight, and when anything disappeared he was off like a flash to see if Clifford had it. From this on Clifford had an uphill fight—a fight in which he was invariably victorious.

Our regiment was camped about two hundred yards in the rear of the Capitol, on the line of L street, the Third Regiment was camped the other side of the park, about one hundred yards from the First. General Dickinson declared the camp closed, sentries were posted, and no one was allowed to leave or enter the camp without a special permit.

The Captain’s tent was at the head of B street, and he shared its occupancy with First Lieutenant E. C. Lundquist, better known as “easy” and Lieutenant George (Chesterfield) Filmer, famed for his shapely form and the cut of his Prince Albert coat. All three officers were loved by every man in the company, and the same feeling of confidence that was felt by the men in their officers was felt by the officers in the men.

CHAS. PERRY FIRST SERGT. A. F. RAMM CORP. J. N. WILSON
H. F. POWLESON WM. OVERSTREET

Tent crowds were now formed, and the leaders drew lots for the tents to which they were to be assigned.

The first tent was occupied by First Sergeant A. F. Ramm. He never sleeps, sometimes they think he is asleep, but he has always one eye open, handsome Corporal J. N. Wilson, W. L. Overstreet, with his hair parted at the equator, Charles Perry, hot soldier, straight and strong, and keeper of the key.[2] H. F. Powelson, happy-go-lucky, never worried, William Tooker, with a pronounced aversion for work and William Unger, the veteran. Later on this tent crowd was joined by the alleged Dutch comedian, Dr. W. H. Sieberst.

[2] During the last Santa Cruz camp Perry, who was experiencing his first military camp, became the victim of an aged and time-honored joke. He was told that the firing of the gun announcing sunrise could not be accomplished unless the key was found; he was hurriedly dispatched in search of it. He was sent from one to another, and finally applied to Adjutant Williams for the key of the gun. While still pursuing his search the report of the gun filled the air; thinking they had found the key he paid no more attention to the matter, until he was apprised that a practical joke had been played on him by reading an account of it in the papers, at the same time receiving from friends in the city a highly ornate and polished hardwood key.

SERGT. A. H. CLIFFORD MUSICIAN, WM. DE LOS MURPHY
MUSICIAN, SERGT. WM. H. SIEBERST WM. H. O’MALLEY

Tent No. 2 contained a homogenous mixture of mankind. Quartermaster Sergeant A. H. Clifford heads the list, with his taking ways, a man who took for the sake of taking, who considered the right of taking a sacred one, and exercised that right at all times much to the benefit of the company’s larder; it is said of him that he would rather take than receive; William De Los Murphy, musician, “my name is my fortune, sir,” he said; W. W. Wilson, another musician who has the honor of having his name on the City Guard’s muster-roll; R. E. Wilson, with his bosom friend H. Gille, known in the Keeley Club as Antonelli, the irresponsible, with a holy and righteous dread of water, and always on guard; Van Sieberst, always out for fun and fond of his tea, a very busy man around a keg of beer. This tent crowd received considerable tone from its association with F. J. Monahan, the society leader familiarly known as “lengthy.”

H. FRECH JAS. WEAR F. SHULA WM. J. HAYES
MUSICIAN PAUL RUPP GEO. HEIZMAN CORP. LEW TOWNSEND

SAM. WISE JOS. KEANE ROBT. WILLIAMS
P. J. KENNEDY CORP. B. E. BURDICK HENRY LANG

There were only six married men among the privates of the company. Three of them were in No. 3 tent. This alone would be enough to distinguish this tent from the others without making mention of the gallant soldiers it contained. Corporal Burtis, always strictly business, and a bad man to try to bluff, when he has a gun in his hand. W. H. Hayes, Secretary of the Keeley Club, who grew a very red whisker and wanted to look real hard, and he did; A. H. Frech, as model a little soldier as ever the Vaterland produced, awfully particular, cleaning and polishing all the time; Frank Shula, who laughs to grow fat, has been very successful in doing so; his snore is a thing that has to be heard in order to be appreciated, he laughs all day and snores all night; Paul Rupp, full of yarns in connection with his service in Kaiser Wilhelm’s army, is one of our married men. He is a musician, but later on rises to the position of chief cook. Jimmy Wear and George Heizman, fitting comrades for Paul Rupp are also married men. The way these poor wifeless men clung together during the campaign was pathetic, there seemed to be a bond of sympathy between them, and in a quiet sort of way they consoled each other; they slept together on the same blanket, and partook together their humble meals. Each day they dispatched a tender missive to the loved one far away. Last, but not least of all, there was Lew Townsend, and between him and the three married men the rest of the crowd in this tent narrowly escaped demoralization.

WM. FLANAGAN MUSICIAN J. GILKYSON WM. CROWLEY W. S. MCKAIG
WM. MCM. D. O’BRIEN SERGT. W. N. KELLY P. BANNAN

F. J. SINDLER CORP. AL. MCCULLOCH G. RADKE H. ADAMS
THOS. MCCULLOCH M. CLAUSSENIUS GEO. CLAUSSENIUS

The fourth tent was known as the Keeley tent. Under the canvas covering of this tent the great leaders of the Keeley Club held forth. The high priest of the inner circle of the flowing bowl was Harry J. Lang and his assistant was P. J. Kennedy. The tent leader was none other than the well-known celebrity, Corporal Benjamin Burdick; during the silent watches of the night his still small voice would be heard telling of hairbreadth escapes in far away India and lion hunts in the wilds of Africa. Kennedy was dubbed the Yolo Farmer the second day at camp, and he looked like one. The two Bohemians, Lang and Kennedy, were the life of the company, Lang never knew a quiet moment; a most sunny disposition, and as brave as a lion; he was well paired with his comrade Kennedy. Sam Wise, an honorary member of the company was in this tent. At the call to arms he offered his services to the company commander, and they were gladly accepted. It is entrancing to sit and hear him tell about the first thing he did when he went to work. Sam’s working periods are so few and far apart that he has occasion to remember every little detail concerning them. Joe Keane, the basso barrello, with a faraway look in his eye; the little hero, Bob Williams, and E. M. Stealey, who sang “A Soldier’s Life’s the Life for Me—Not,” made up the balance of the crowd.

L. ZIMMERMAN A. C. GEHRET WM. BAUMGARTNER
H. B. SULLIVAN A. FETZ SERGT. B. B. STURDIVANT

T. HAMMERSON. G. UNGERMAN.
W. A. BESEMAN. SERGT. H. B. TAYLOR. J. BRIEN.

The fifth tent was called the Irish tent, headed by the Irish Sergeant Walter Kelly, a splendid soldier and officer. Wm. Flanagan, good old nine, we called him; a very active man when our daily keg of beer was on tap. He claimed descent from one of Ireland’s famous kings. W. S. McKaig, dubbed kinky on account of his curly hair, was always writing letters when there would be any work to do. W. W. Crowley, the most desperate looking character in the camp and as desperate as he looked. Johnny Gilkyson, drummer and willing worker, had no use for a drum when there was sterner work to do, and soon attached himself to a gun. Phil Bannan, always quiet and passive, a disciple of Wm. Tooker’s and quite a society man; Flanagan called him piano Irish and sneered at his social aspirations. Wm. O’Brien, always ready to volunteer for dangerous work, was the last, but not the least of this crowd. Upon the hearts of the members of this tent was emblazoned the motto, “We Love Our Sarg.”[3]

[3] Sergeant Kelly.

R. E. WILSON AL. HEETH H. C. CASEBOLT GEO. BOWNE.
J. MONAHAN W. W. WILSON E. M. STEALY

Corporal A. McCulloch was the leader of tent No. six. This was the intellectual tent. Beneath its classic folds weighty questions of state were argued and settled. The crowd in this tent claim that nightly they were lulled to rest by the voice of their learned corporal in the throes of some mighty argument; through the long stretches of the night when they would occasionally awaken they would still hear his voice; as if he were engaged in some great controversy. Morning found him awake, physically, but the restless brain had not slept, and now, with freshened physical senses, he still continued his interminable argument. But he had aids and abettors in the persons of Henry Adams and R. L. Radke (all will recall the soldierly appearance of the last-named gentleman). Radke the younger, Max and George Claussenius, F. J. Sindler and H. C. Warren were the unfortunate and paralyzed listeners.

The seventh tent was called the German tent. Sergeant Sturdivant, the leader of this crowd, is so tall and thin, that it is a surprise to him when he casts a shadow. He is quite a society man, and a favorite among the ladies. Another social favorite, Humphrey Sullivan, is also in this tent. He sings so sweetly that we enjoy it very much, more so if he were accompanied by a brass band. In this tent we have two other stars in the vocal line, Al Gehret, a basso, and William Baumgartner, a tenor, who can reach high “C” without an effort. In this crowd was Fetz the long, Zimmerman the short, also called Punch for short, and A. Heeth, Jr., with whose kindly aid we kept our rags together. This concludes the description of the tents of the enlisted men and their occupants. Only a week previous these men won the Dimond trophy, at the yearly encampment of the regiment, for being the best drilled and best disciplined company in the camp.

After our return from supper at one of the hotels, on this first evening, those who were weary sought the seclusion of their tents; the rest gathered beneath the trees and sang of love, but not of glory. Private Tooker sang “Sweet Marie” with such pathos and expression, that a tear was seen to tremble on the eyelid of Overstreet, and then silently wend its way down to the point of his nose, where it hung suspended for a while as if reluctant to part from him and then fell to the earth with a loud splash. Thus we whiled away the hours, till the bugle’s mellow notes swelling on the midnight air and thrilling the hearts of all with its sweet, solemn music, sang the call to rest, and then all was still.

Thirty minutes had passed and gone; the brave and true were dreaming of home and mother, when a wild yell rang out on the stilly air, and sounds of conflict were heard coming from tents Nos. 3 and 4, occupied by the Keeleys. Soon Corporal Townsend was seen beating a hasty retreat in great disorder from No. 3 tent, in the direction of the captain’s abode, where he reported that a well-planned effort was being made by the Keeleys to kidnap Private Hayes of tent No. 3. Meanwhile exciting scenes were being enacted in these tents. The kidnappers, headed by the Yolo Farmer and the High Priest of the Keeleys, were endeavoring to drag the person of Private Hayes into their tent, but Corporal Burtis, assisted by Privates Frech, Shula, and the married men, Paul Rupp, Jimmy Wear and George Heizman, did Trojan work. After a well-delivered blow from Hayes that connected with the head of the High Priest, who sent up a howl of pain, they were beaten off. The Yolo Farmer, however, returned to the charge, bayonet in hand, but the voice of the Captain, threatening a sojourn in the guard-tent, acted like oil upon troubled waters, and soon the warring factions were at rest.

During the night Fetz of ours, who was doing sentry duty, by the ominous click of his gun’s hammer and a threat to fire, resurrected two festive soldiers out of the brush in which they were hiding, preparatory to an attempt to get into camp unobserved. They were gathered in and taken to the guard-tent, where for two days they sweltered and sweltered. The spectacle these two young gentlemen presented as, bucket in hand, they went through the streets gathering up the refuse, under the vigilant eye of a sentinel, was a source of great amusement to their comrades.

While camped on the Capitol grounds we had breakfast and supper at the hotels, and luncheon at camp. Arrangements were made so that no more than three companies would be away at any one time. As usual a number found fault with the hotel fare, but a week later, when the regiment had to do its own cooking, they would have been very glad to return to it. At lunch we had all the fruit we wanted; corned beef was always on the bill of fare; but the keg of beer, that accompanied it, reconciled us. Then there was bread, bologna sausage, sometimes crackers, and always cheese; altogether we fared very well during the week.

Friday morning, on our return from breakfast, Sergeant Kelly made a motion, that the rule be established, whereby any who shaved during the campaign would be fined a dollar.

The motion was seconded and carried unanimously. Sergeant Kelly was one of the first to avail himself of the expensive luxury.

The City Guard boys had now settled upon a unique style of wearing their hats, which distinguished them from the rest of the companies. The hat was dented four times perpendicularly, bringing the crown to a point; this, with the unshaven faces, and the long swinging stride and step we kept while marching to and from town, made us particularly noticeable, and many comments were passed on our appearance. We were getting well seasoned for the hard work, which we were shortly to be called upon to do, and which we hope we did well.

The newspaper reports about this time were giving the boys “that tired feeling.”

In a previous chapter it has been told how disgusted the men were at the failure to take the depot. Therefore you may judge their surprise, on reading the accounts published in the newspapers of the same, to see that the failure to accomplish good results was laid at the door of the rank and file of the National Guard. The press was not the only accuser of the men, but from another source in which the men expected to find their vindication they received the “unkindest cut of all.” Their general officers it was who said they could not take the depot, because the men were demoralized and could not be trusted. Oh! what a subterfuge! On the surface what is to be conveyed by such a statement? Two alternatives present themselves. First, either the statement is true, or, second, the position of the officers themselves was weak and they desired to strengthen it by shifting the responsibility for the failure from their shoulders to those of the rank and file. If this latter course was the one pursued then they might have known, mighty though they be in the National Guard, that the consequences of such a course would be sure sooner or later, to redound with greater force upon themselves, and that instead of their position being strengthened, they would stand exposed in all their iniquity, stripped of the last shred of defense.

Investigation proves that the latter alternative is the correct one. The men, despite what comes from the press or by other sources, were not demoralized or untrustworthy. Being demoralized is meant, we should judge, that the troops were not under the strict control of their officers, and that confusion and lack of discipline reigned in ranks. At no time in the day did such a state of affairs prevail. It is true that a number of the men were prostrated by the heat, but the prostration extended only to a comparative few and not to the entire body of men as given out in the reports of certain officers. Besides this, the prostration came after the troops had stood in line under the hot sun for something like three hours. The men were willing and ready at any time that afternoon to attempt to force the strikers from the depot. Never were they called upon to do a harder thing, or one in which they felt more disposed to rebel against their officers, than when they were ordered to withdraw from the scene and leave the depot in charge of the strikers. There was not a squad of men in Company B, and when I mention Company B, I mean also every company with one possible exception, who would not willingly, even gladly have charged the mob of strikers. Curses, not loud but deep, were uttered in each company as they withdrew. In one of the companies under the command of Colonel Nunan the men cried out to advance, but no order came. Tears of vexation rolled down the cheeks of some of the men. To travel over a hundred miles and then suffer defeat—oh! how humiliating—not at the hands of the strikers, but from their own officers. And yet, in the face of all this, the failure to take the depot was laid at their doors.

Who was to blame for the failure of the operations on the Fourth? It remained for a court of inquiry to finally fix the blame upon the shoulders it belonged. This court was appointed by Governor Markham, September 8, 1894, to inquire into the conduct of those troops of the National Guard participating in the strike campaign, from its commencement to its close. The work of the court was to be performed without regard to rank prejudices or preconceived ideas. The court sat in session for a period of twenty days, and made a minute examination into the operations on the Fourth. Its work was well done. In the columns of one of our large dailies the following appeared:

“The court of inquiry has done its duty well—truthful, fearless, unmoved by considerations of friendships. Our Californian experience with investigating bodies had given us no right to expect this high and honorable result, and it is entitled to a swift, signal, and memorable approval by executive action.”

The court of inquiry showed plainly that the reports made by the commanding officers of the National Guard, and the charges appearing in the press concerning the demoralization and untrustworthiness of the troops were utterly false; that the rank and file, with the exception of two companies mentioned elsewhere,[4] “were at all times under good discipline, and behaved with becoming courage and loyalty.” The court further found that certain officers greatly magnified the reports concerning the physical debility of the men. The court, in summing up, says: “There were men in the ranks, plenty and willing to retrieve the day, when at three o’clock, after standing patiently in the sun for three hours, they received their first orders, which were to move off and abandon the attempt to take the depot.” Thus the rank and file were finally vindicated after being for some time the object for obloquy by the public and press.

[4] One of these companies was a Sacramento company whose members were mostly employed by the railroad and therefor in sympathy with the strikers, in fact some of them were strikers. The other company was a company of the Third Regiment. Concerning this latter company, there are many extenuating circumstances. Had the officers remained with their company there is no doubt but what it would have been as reliable as any other.

The question, who was to blame for the failure on the Fourth, we would gladly leave at this place unanswered were it not for the fact that an implication is worse than an assertion. So we again refer to the report of the court of inquiry. Here it is shown that, on that memorable occasion, “General Sheehan refused to obey orders, directly communicated to him by Major General Dimond, to effect an entrance into the depot by force, and to fire upon the mob if they refused to give way”; it was further shown, that when the officer, upon whom the command of the Second Brigade had devolved, received distinct orders from Major General Dimond to clear the depot, by force if necessary, he left his command and urged the commanding General not to compel him to obey the order, as his men were demoralized and could not be relied upon. It was upon this representation that an armistice was entered into between the United States marshal and the strikers. Here we have the case in a nutshell. No orders were given to the troops to advance at any time that afternoon against the strikers. A spirit of hesitation prevailed amongst the commanding officers. When decisive action should have been taken questions of constitutional law were debated by them at length. Instead of an officer executing the commands transmitted to him by a superior officer he would desire to know where his superior officer received authority to give such an order. Just think of it, men who have been occupying high places in the National Guard for years, questioning at the time for action the authority of their superior officers and preventing decisive action by misrepresenting the condition and maligning the characters of their men. This then was the cause of the failure of the operations on the Fourth, and well has it been called the “Battle of Sheehan & Co’s Bluff.”

The garbled manner in which the occurrences of the Fourth were presented to the public by the press was disgusting to the last degree. From their accounts one would think that the men could fire or use the bayonet at will, instead of being a disciplined body under superior officers, subject to their commands in the minutest particular, and had no option but to obey orders, when they received them. The inefficiency of the National Guard was the subject of editorials; and it seemed to be a great disappointment to the press that the depot on the Fourth was not a scene of frightful carnage. Had the order come to fire the men would most certainly have fired, the result would have been a slaughter, and then in the columns of every newspaper in the country we would be branded as red-handed, bloodthirsty murderers. The newspapers even went so far as to cast reflections on the loyalty of the Guard; this to men who left their peaceful callings at the call to arms, left their homes, severed every attachment, every business connection, left weeping parents, wives, brothers and sisters, traveled by night, marched by day, and stood under a broiling sun for hours, ready to do the bidding of their superiors, and then to have their loyalty brought into question, this was too much. One enterprising Sacramento paper came out with the disquieting information “That it was rumored the strikers were going to use dynamite, but, with discretion,” that was comforting, they would use dynamite “with discretion.” The brainy reporter then, to seek a confirmation or denial of the rumor, called upon Mr. Knox, the leader of the strikers, and asked him if they were going to use dynamite, with discretion; of course he said yes. This is a fair sample of some of the ridiculous stuff published by the papers. The general tone of what did seem reliable and probable brought us to the conclusion that we had come to stay awhile, and that we would soon have plenty of work.

We had now settled down to the regular routine of military camp life. The mornings were devoted to guard mount, company drills, and battalion drills in the extended order.[5] The men in these drills acquitted themselves with a dash and celerity of movement that would do credit to regular troops. The face of grim-visaged war was partly shown to the people of Sacramento as the battalions of the First Regiment charged across the Capitol grounds, amid wild yells and the rapid reports of the Gatling gun from the far off corner of the grounds. They tore through the plowed ground, through water, down deep gulleys, up again on the other side, and under the blazing sun, continued the charge through the brush, until recalled by the whistle of the commander. In the afternoon we had dress parade. Crowds were drawn to the camp to witness these imposing ceremonies.

[5] To illustrate the last-named drill photos have been introduced, taken during the last camp at Santa Cruz, showing the line, firing by squad, section, company, and the rapid fire by the entire battalion.

A line of sentries, with loaded pieces, was posted round the entire camp day and night. Each day the company furnished a detail for guard duty. The personnel of these details were as follows: Thursday, July 5th, Lieutenant E. C. Lundquist, Corporal J. N. Wilson, privates J. Gilkyson, W. J. Flanagan, A. H. Frech, A. Fetz, H. G. Gille, A. C. Gehret, P. J. Kennedy. Friday, July 6th, Sergeant B. B. Sturdivant, privates Wm. De Los Murphy, A. Heeth, Jr., G. H. Heizman, J. S. Keane, H. J. Lang, S. Wise, W. S. McKaig. Saturday, July 7th, Captain I. B. Cook, Corporal B. E. Burdick, Corporal E. R. Burtis, W. D. O’Brien, W. L. Overstreet, C. Perry, H. F. Powelson, R. L. Radke. Sunday, July 8th, privates G. H. Radke, H. Sullivan, E. M. Stealey, F. Shula, F. J. Sindler, W. H. Tooker. Monday, July 9th, Lieutenant George Filmer, privates Wm. Unger, R. E. Wilson, R. J. Williams, H. C. Warren, J. R. Wear, L. Zimmerman. Tuesday, July 10th, privates H. H. Adams, P. L. Bannan, F. Baumgartner, G. L. Claussenius, M. Claussenius.

WILLIAM UNGER,
AS HE APPEARED WHILE IN THE HAWAIIAN GUARD.

CORPORAL EDWIN BURTIS.

THE VIGILANTES AT WORK.

CHAPTER V.

THE VIGILANTES AT THE CAPITOL GROUNDS.

THOUGH our time was considerably taken up with camp duties there was plenty of time for amusement during the long day. Friday, July 6th, saw the birth of the Vigilantes. This crowd, made up from the different companies, created any amount of fun. Any one seen by a Vigilante doing any thing out of the ordinary (shaving and hair-cutting were capital offenses) was immediately reported; his person was apprehended, and brought before the Chief of the Vigilantes, to whom both sides of the case were presented, he judging whether the defendant was guilty or not. The scales of justice were badly balanced in this court, for the unfortunate one was always found guilty. Then the joy began, willing hands stripped the victim to the waist, he was blacked all over, balanced on his head and the State hose turned on him. The Yolo Farmer fell into the clutches of these worthies, but not without a heroic struggle; pursued by the ruthless mob, he rushed into his tent and, on emerging, gun in hand and bayonet fixed, presented a formidable appearance, as, thus armed, he defied his enemies. But their numbers were too much for him, he was taken from the rear, and borne in triumph to the place of execution. After a trial of great brevity, he was stripped to the waist and, while suspended by the ankles, plentifully watered by the hose. His Keeley brothers, Lang and Hayes, fearing the same fate, made a hurried departure across the park and enjoyed his discomfiture at a safe distance.

Van Sieberst was the next unfortunate; poor Van wasn’t doing any thing either; but that was just the trouble; he had stretched his huge form upon the earth and was indulging in the creations of fancy, when a savage tribe of Vigilantes rushed upon him, tore him from out his ethereal world and bore him to the place of execution. The shriek that Van gave on being torn from his world of fancy, was heart-rending. He was arraigned before the all-powerful chief of the Vigilantes, who inquired, “Why comest this man here? Speak.” Thereupon a great silence fell upon the assembly and forthwith there leapt from out of the throng Tooker, the favorite son of the most renowned god of all Work, and thus he spake: “Most noble Vigilantes, this man doth never work; to the corporals of the all-powerful ‘City Guard’ he is a constant bane; he is ever quick, most noble chief, to lie down, but slow to arise; he was never known to shake the blankets of the tents of his people. Oh, noble and great-hearted brothers, I bow my head with humiliation; he is the laziest man in camp.” Thereupon, throughout that great multitude there arose a loud cry, “Him we honor.” “Him we make our chief.” “Him we obey.”

There was much rejoicing among the Vigilantes. And, thus it came to pass, that after passing many days and nights in lowliness, Van Sieberst, the heaven-descended son of Bacchus, became chief ruler of the Vigilante Tribe. Verily, I say unto you, that many strange things have come to pass.

One afternoon, as “Easy” Lundquist was telling an interesting story to a number of the boys grouped about him and stretched upon the ground in the shade of the spreading branches of a tree directly facing B street, Jack Wilson, breaking through the circle and dropping heavily upon the ground, interrupted him with the startling announcement that the Vigilantes had just finished with Kelly. A long drawn “What, Sergeant Kelly?” centered the attention of the crowd upon Herr Frech. “How did it happen?” he continued, in surprise. “Why, it was only yesterday that he defied a dozen of the company, who wanted to amuse themselves at his expense, to touch him. He did not feel just then like fooling, he said; when he felt that way, why he would tell them so, but until then they had better leave him alone.” “Did the Vigilantes send a committee,” further inquired Frech, “to wait upon him and learn his pleasure as to whether it would be convenient for him to submit himself to the decrees of the Vigilant court? And did they go down on their knees and do homage to him as if he were one of the gods? Did they inquire if his hair was combed or his face washed or his blouse dusted; or, did they ask him to tell them in case it was not convenient for him then to submit to the court, when they might come for him and escort him in royal style to the place of trial? Did they—?” “No,” yelled Jack, “they did not care for his pleasure, they seized him unawares, hurried him to the place of execution, sentenced him, and immediately fulfilled it by giving him, as he stood upon his head, four buckets of water and a box of blacking.” And so, mighty is the fall of them that walk on high places.

The question of bathing now became very important. The extreme heat and the general conditions were such that, for the preservation of health, some arrangement for bathing was necessary. It was not long, however, before the brainy young men from Frisco solved the problem. Wire screens, which had been used to protect shrubbery, were placed in position and fastened together, so as to form a square apartment. They were then covered with sheeting to the height of about six feet. One end of a government hose was attached to the water-pipe; the other was carried over the top of the enclosure. The green sod was used for a floor, and the sky for a ceiling. A more enjoyable shower bath could not be desired. Two strings led from this bath to the pipe about twenty-five feet away. To turn the water on, you pulled one string, to turn it off, you pulled the other. This bath was always well patronized. Necessity is indeed the mother of invention.

The small annoyances of this life are sometimes the most aggravating. The little whiskers on Dick Radke’s chin had worried us for some time. On this day we caught him stroking them. There is a limit to all patience. We rose in our might and removed them, after an ineffectual struggle on his part. Private Frech’s well-dyed, tiny mustache came near meeting the same fate, but he would make no resistance and only begged for the privilege of removing it himself, so we spared the mustache.

A number of guns were accidentally discharged while we were in camp on the Capitol grounds. None of the accidents, however, were attended with such frightful results as that of the Fourth of July, though there were several narrow escapes. Corporal Burtis gave the order to load while standing in front of his squad (he should have been in the rear). One of the pieces accidentally discharged, the ball entering the ground about twelve inches in front of him. He will never stand in front of a squad again and give the order to load. Private Hayes, also had a close “shave” one night when on picket duty, the rifle of the man next to him being discharged very close to his head. This is one of the great dangers to be guarded against. A man cannot be too careful when he has a loaded gun in his hands. The gun should be always carried with the muzzle up, but, when loading, the muzzle should be pointed to the ground. Do not stand in front of a man when he is loading his gun; watch yourself and those around you. Every man should be well grounded in these principles by his instructor.

About this time the sick and dying telegrams came pouring in from anxious parents. The mail was too slow for messages like these:

“Dear Charlie:
Mother dying, come home at once.
Father.”

or

“Dear Willie:
Father very sick, not expected to live, come home at once.
Sister.”

“Come home at once” was the largest part of telegrams whose brevity made the hair curl. The wires were kept hot with these missives. It looked very much as if there was going to be a boom in the undertaking business in San Francisco, and that many of the National Guard would soon be orphans. The letters received by the boys from their mothers were generally very tearful, each fond mother praying for the speedy and safe return of her darling boy. There were a few exceptions, however, one of our boys receiving a letter that was worthy the Spartan mother. She called upon him to do his duty manfully and courageously; she hoped that his conduct in time of danger would reflect credit upon himself and company. We are happy to say of him that he is a worthy son of such a mother, for he performed his duties, at all times fearlessly and well.

Clifford, Al Ramm and Jack Wilson were standing in front of No. 1 tent, having a little argument as to which of the favorite resorts along the San Francisco route made the best cocktails, when they heard strange sounds coming as if it were from the ground beneath their feet. They got down on their hands and knees, and, with ears pressed to the earth, listened. They had about come to the conclusion that the noise came from the water-pipe, which ran along the front of the tents about four inches underground, when Perry, keeper of the key, and Willie Overstreet, who had been sitting beneath the tree at the head of the street discussing the dynamite rumors, approached attracted by the strange actions of their comrades. An idea, Clifford, he has them on tap. In a stage whisper, of which Henry Irving would be proud, he said, “keep quiet boys, I hear them talking.” This gave Al and Jack the cue, and with grave faces they held their ears to the ground. “What’s the matter”? asked Overstreet, while Perry looked on with staring eyes and open mouth. “They are undermining the camp,” said Ramm in a sepulchral tone. “We’ll all be blown up by dynamite,” wailed Jack Wilson. “Hush,” said Clifford, with upraised hand, “I just heard one of them ask the other for a match to light his pipe.” In a trice Perry and Overstreet had their ears glued to the ground. What Perry heard confirmed his worst fears. He was in the act of dashing off to the General’s tent to give the alarm, when they caught and held him. They reasoned with him. “Any premature action,” they said, “might be the death of them all. They must be very circumspect, as the strikers might be watching their every movement, and, should their suspicions be aroused, the earth might open up at any moment and the whole camp be blown skyward.” It was finally decided that a committee be appointed to wait upon the General after dark and break the dreadful news to him, as gently as possible, for he was hardly over the effects of his late illness, poor man, and nervous prostration might be the result. All that afternoon the new danger which menaced the camp, was the subject of discussion. The relative powers of giant powder and dynamite were debated; Clifford declaring that enough dynamite could be put into the mine to blow the camp, and even the Capitol itself, off the face of the earth. The nervous strain Perry and Overstreet were under all the afternoon was comical to see, particularly Perry, who tugged excitedly at a mustache that wouldn’t make a decent pair of eyebrows. Night came on. It was growing late. Quiet had settled o’er the camp. All lights were out, save the candle that burned dimly in Jack Wilson’s tent. Wilson had retired to his blankets, but Perry and Overstreet still sat up, talking over the events of the day. For them there was no sleep. The silence of the camp was now oppressive and deathlike, when suddenly Billy O’Brien burst into the tent, breathless and wild eyed, saying, that the Colonel had ordered him to get twelve men to dig into the mine, and, as they were awake they should at once report to Lieutenant Lundquist, in the Captain’s tent, and be supplied with pick and shovel. Counseling them to make no noise for their lives and to hurry, he dashed off again. Poor Overstreet, gave a deep groan and nearly fainted, while Jack Wilson said, he did not like the job a bit, springing dynamite mines was not in his line; he wished that he was at home, but, as he was ordered, he supposed he’d have to go. Perry said nothing, but was doing some powerful thinking. Jack left them and proceeded to the Captain’s tent, where a crowd of choice spirits were collected, awaiting the coming of Charley. And he came buttoned and belted, with a bayonet at his side, ready to do or die. He saluted the Lieutenant, with nervous rapidity, no less than seventeen times. The Lieutenant, who had his head hidden behind a newspaper, was doing his best to control his feelings; but when Charley asked for a shovel he could stand it no longer, and burst into a roar of hearty laughter, which was joined in by the rest of the merry crowd. Charley, seeing it was a joke, beat a hasty retreat to his tent, and was soon locked in the arms of Morpheus.

As, during the campaign, we had to do our own washing we utilized our buckets at first, but soon found them too small for the ever-increasing wash. At the suggestion of Jack Gilkyson, a collection was taken up and a fine washtub and board were soon in operation. The washing, which was spread upon the tents and hung upon the guy ropes to dry, gave the street the appearance of a Chinese wash-house in full blast. On one occasion Sam Wise had just washed his socks; a little to the rear of his tent where the operation was performed Lang, Hayes, and a few others were stretched upon the grass. One and all thanked Sam for what he had done. Lang, to vary the monotony, threw a very soft peach at Hayes, which struck him in the ear and spread in all directions. Hayes seized Lang, and, in the struggle which followed, they neared the bucket which contained the soapy water in which Sam had just washed his socks. At this opportune moment, Hayes had Lang in a very advantageous position; reaching out he upset the contents of the bucket over Lang’s head, and then did some very pretty sprinting, with Lang in hot pursuit. In their path stood another bucket of water, which Lang picked up and threw with a wild swish at the fleeing Hayes; but the bucket turned in his hands and he received the contents in the neck. Dripping with water he picked up a scantling, the size of himself, and continued the pursuit; but the fleet Hayes had by this time reached a place of safety.

Lang, when on sentry duty, was the admiration of all the boys, he looked so much like a regular, straight and stiff as a pikestaff, and about as stout. The way be brought people to a halt was enough to bring on heart trouble. When he saluted an officer he brought his piece to the carry with a snap that startled the horses in the street. His great ambition was to become an orderly for General Ruger.

This brings us to the great indignity which was put upon the Keeley Club, an indignity that will be remembered by its members as long as the memory of it lasts. Their High Priest Lang and P. J. Kennedy, another prominent officer in the organization, were summoned to Quartermaster Cluff’s tent. From this tent all good things flowed, particularly the beer. Visions of oceans of it, enough to satisfy even their thirsty souls floated before their sight. With light hearts and willing steps, they sped towards the tent. Yes, there was the keg, clothed in a bag of ice, just discernible within its shade. Its bright brass faucet shining in the distance like a star of hope. See! the quartermaster is slowly drawing a bowl of the amber fluid; ah! how refreshing it looks. The feet that would rather run than walk on such occasions soon brought them to their destination. They saluted in their best style; the quartermaster saluted. Lang’s face broke into its most insinuating smile, while the Yolo Farmer mopped the perspiration from his classic brow with a linen napkin, and remarked that it was very warm. All this time the quartermaster was sipping his beer with exasperating leisure; between sips making very commonplace queries. He remarked that Lang looked very thin, but that Kennedy seems to be getting stouter if anything. Great God! their tongues were cracking. Would he never get through, and invite them to slake their burning thirst? But everything has an end. Finally with a sigh of satisfaction he put down his glass, and disappeared from before the wondering eyes of Lang and Kennedy into his tent, from which he soon emerged, pick in one hand and shovel in the other, and placing them in the passive hands of our now paralyzed comrades, bade them follow him. Some fifty feet away he halted, pointed to the ground and commanded, “Dig,” and they dug. For hours these gentlemen, strangers to hard work, delved into the earth, under a broiling sun, like common laborers.

THE YOLO FARMER AND HIGH PRIEST AT WORK.

The boys’ funds were getting low about this time; in fact a great many left town without any funds, at all. Clifford was known to be in a chronic state of financial debility. When he marched down the street jingling in his pocket a bunch of keys which sounded like many silver dollars crying forth, “spend me”; he was questioned on all sides as to where he made the raise. “Oh”! said he, “I’ve just been up to Adjutant Williams’ tent, and got a little advance.” “What”! they exclaimed, and waiting for no more they immediately made a bee line for the adjutant’s tent. The adjutant loves a joke as much as any one, and, though puzzled at first, soon understood and put the boys off with various excuses. He told Billy O’Brien, who was a most earnest applicant, that the paymaster had a breakdown on his way to camp, and would not arrive for some time. Billy went away, and when surrounded by his tent-mates, who anxiously inquired as to his success, quoted the following lines from Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dragoon, for their delectation:

“And though up late an’airly

Our pay comes so rarely

That divil a farthing we’ve ever to spare.

They say some disaster

Befell the paymaster

’Pon me conscience I think the money’s not there.”

Very late Saturday night we were joined by the great artist on the tin whistle, and star Dutch comedian, Doc Sieberst, and private William O’Malley, attached to the hospital corps. Doc was besieged for news from all sides. Hayes did his best to lure him into the Keeley tent, where a small riot was in progress; but the providence that is said to watch over children and drunken men had the Doc in mind that night. We saw the famous tin whistle gleaming in the moonlight through the lacings of his leggings, and ever after our marches, to and from town, were enlivened by its music. The boys were all delighted next morning to see the honest, open-work Irish face of O’Malley amongst them. Up to this time we had no wires attached to the hospital tent. Now things were different. A lot of us got taken very badly with malaria, and every morning we went to the hospital tent to get our quinine.

Among the members of the City Guard it is a case of one for all, and all for one; and Doc O’Malley’s connection with the hospital tent brought joy to B street in more ways than one. Beer was plentiful in the hospital tent; the doctors not only drank it themselves, but required an extra allowance for the patients. Under these conditions, however, patients increased at such an alarming rate that the Doctors decreed that beer was bad for the sick, and consequently they had to drink the extra allowance themselves. Though men of great capacity they were unable to get away with two barrels daily. This fact was known to O’Malley, who imparted it to the good-natured and burly Teuton Rupp. In the dead of night Rupp stole forth, bucket in hand, and, after a careful reconnoissance, invaded the hospital quarters. He soon returned to the street with the bucket full of the foaming beverage; then beneath the folds of the Keeley tent followed a scene of subdued but exquisite enjoyment. The bucket empty, Rupp and High Priest Lang sallied forth again, with a parting request from Corporal Burdick to bring the keg along this time. Lang, with fine sarcasm, asked him if the contents of the keg wouldn’t do him? This time the keg was emptied, and the return of Rupp and Lang was the occasion of renewed enjoyment.

Monday, July 8th, we went swimming in a body. Arrangements had been made with the bath-house keepers the day previous by Lieutenant Filmer, every thing was lovely. The boys had a great time plunging and diving in the tank, and playing tricks on one another. It was here discovered that the brave and fearless Gille was the greatest of cowards in the water. Antonelli has dallied so long with other liquids that water is an unknown quantity to him, particularly a tank of it; and any attempt to duck him completely stampeded him. His frantic efforts to get away from his pursuers were the cause of much hilarity. This aversion to water is strictly Democratic in its character.

This night we were reinforced by Tommy McCulloch, another young man with pill-rolling aspirations. We have taken time by the forelock and already call him and his side partner, O’Malley, Doc.

Monday morning the following proclamation was issued by President Cleveland:

Whereas, by reason of unlawful obstructions, combinations, and assemblages of persons it has become impracticable, in the judgment of the President, to enforce by the ordinary course of judicial proceedings the laws of the United States within the State of Illinois, and the city of Chicago, within said State; and

Whereas, that for the purpose of enforcing the faithful execution of the laws of the United States in the State and city aforesaid the President has employed a part of the military force of the United States,

Now, therefore, I, Grover Cleveland, President of United States, do hereby admonish all good citizens and persons who may be or may come within the city and State aforesaid against aiding, countenancing, encouraging, or taking part in such unlawful obstructions, combinations, and assemblages; and I hereby warn all persons engaged in or in any way connected with such unlawful obstructions, combinations, and assemblages to disperse and retire peaceably to their respective abodes, on or before twelve o’clock noon of the ninth day July, inst.

Those who disregard this warning and persist in taking part with a riotous mob in forcibly resisting and obstructing the execution of the laws of the United States, or interfering with the functions of the Government, or destroying and attempting to destroy the property belonging to the United States, or under its protection cannot be regarded otherwise than as public enemies. Troops employed against such riotous mobs will act with all moderation and forbearance consistent with the accomplishment of the desired end, but the necessities that confront them will not with certainty permit discrimination between guilty participants and those who are mingled with them from curiosity and without intent. The only safe course, therefore, for those not actually and lawfully participating is to abide at their homes or at least not to be found in the neighborhood of riotous assemblages.

While there will be no hesitation or vacillation in a decisive treatment of the guilty this warning is especially intended to protect and save the innocent.

In Testimony Whereof, I hereunto set my hand and cause the seal of the United States to be hereto affixed. Done at the City of Washington this eighth day of July, in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and ninety-four, and of the Independence of the United States of America the one-hundred and eighteenth.

By the President, GROVER CLEVELAND.

W. Q. Gresham, Secretary.

All day, Monday and Tuesday, the President’s proclamation was the absorbing topic of conversation. We felt, that it was no more nor less than a declaration of war against the existing state of lawlessness, and that the long-threatened storm was soon to break. That we were to be reinforced by the regulars was now an assured fact, and their arrival was looked for daily. The flame from the torch of the strikers, that had laid property, worth millions of dollars, in ashes at Chicago leaped to the telegraph wires and swept across the country, firing the Sacramento strikers with a reckless spirit of lawlessness and a resolution to sustain their position at any cost and by any means. We felt that our present inaction would soon give way to more stirring scenes, the serious nature of which would admit of little joking.

During all this excitement the leaders of the Keeley Club were very busy spreading the principles of their doctrine; and were so successful that numbers of applications for admission to the charmed circle of the flowing bowl were daily received. Tuesday morning, after receiving their usual doses of malaria-killing quinine from the hands of Dr. O’Malley, High Priest Lang, Drs. Kennedy, Hayes and Burdick had a short consultation, and decided to take immediate action with reference to the applications that had been received. Secretary Hayes was instructed to inform all the applicants that an open meeting of the Keeley Club would be held that afternoon at two P. M. in the German tent.

The occupants of the German tent at once began to make preparations for the reception and entertainment of their distinguished guests. A collection was taken up and William Baumgartner intrusted with the perilous task of buying a keg of beer, and transporting it to the tent. This he did with much boldness and address. The meeting of the Keeley Club was now an assured success. Two o’clock found an overflow gathering at the German tent. With the diplomatic view of getting those present in the proper state of mind for what was to follow, to prepare the soil, as it were, for the seed, Dr. Burdick suggested, that as the heat was very great, and every one in a chronic state of thirst, it would be well to serve some liquid refreshments. This suggestion met with approval from all sides and “Punch” Zimmerman did Trojan work for the next ten minutes at the tap. With a few well-chosen remarks Al Heeth presented the Hon. Dr. Lang, High Priest of the Inner Circle of the Flowing Bowl, whose appearance was greeted with a hearty round of applause. The learned doctor, in an eloquent address, punctured by applause, and numerous invitations to imbibe, which he did not let the dignity of his office prevent him from accepting, dwelt on the history of the Keeley Club, past and present, comparing the present gathering to the Bacchic meetings and revels of the dim and classic past, and growing poetic quoted from “Alexander’s Feast,” by Dryden:

“The praise of Bacchus, then the sweet musician sung,

Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young.

The jolly god in triumph comes,

Sound the trumpets, beat the drums;

Flushed with a purple grace

He shows his honest face;

Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes,

Bacchus, ever fair and young,

Drinking joys did first ordain;

Bacchus’ blessings are a treasure,

Drinking is the soldiers’ pleasure;

Rich the treasure

Sweet the pleasure

Sweet is pleasure after pain.”

Returning to the living present he spoke of the many enduring benefits derived from being a member of the Keeley Club. He said that it filled him with great pleasure to see that the efforts of himself and associates were not in vain, the attendance showed the sympathy and interest that was taken in the movement by the applicants. Furthermore, he thought it would be well, on account of the number of applications, to form the club into branches, and that the first branch be called the German branch in honor of the tent in which it was formed. This suggestion met with hearty approval, and the work of organization was immediately begun. At the expiration of the solemn ceremonies connected therewith Private Flanagan of the Irish tent arose, and, after congratulating the learned doctors of the Keeley Club on the success of the meeting, invited all present to attend a pink tea that would be held in his tent that evening at eight P. M. Dr. Lang arose, and, with a breast heaving with suppressed emotion, said that he felt gratified and honored that his efforts and the efforts of his comrades had met with the distinguished approval of a gentleman who could boast of such royal lineage as Mr. Flanagan. The liberal invitation extended to all betrayed the true prince’s heart, and, on behalf of the members of the Keeley Club, he accepted the invitation with great pleasure.

The members of the Irish tent for the rest of the day were actively engaged making preparations for the evening’s entertainment, and not until a certain dark object was rolled beneath the flap of their tent did they cease their labors. Soon after supper those desirous of getting front seats began to arrive, among them being Van Sieberst, Gillie, Dick Radke, Sam Wise, and Jimmy Wear. By eight o’clock the tent was crowded to suffocation; the flaps were then raised, so that those who could not get in could hear and see. In the middle of the tent, resting on a cracker-box, was a mysterious object, draped in a flaming red comforter, a color dear to the heart of every true Keeley. Upon this object the eyes of all were centered, and many and varied were the comments concerning it. Henry Adams said that it was so short and broad it might be a statue of Grover Cleveland. “That’s about the size of him,” said Doc O’Malley, who had seen Grover from a distance during his short stay in Washington a year previous. “Mentally or physically”? inquired Max Claussenius, who likes to delve in the abstract. But the way some of the boys cuddled up to it was sufficient proof that it was not a cold and lifeless statue, and the general conclusion was that it must be the pink tea. Mr. Bannon made the address of welcome, and, amid wild applause, unveiled that which had been the object of so much curiosity, revealing a nice, plump keg of hop juice. Jimmy Wear, by acclamation, was placed in charge of the liquid refreshments, and spent a very busy fifteen minutes. After a few variations on the whistle by Doc Sieberst, Dr. Kennedy arose and stated that on account of the extreme hoarseness of Dr. Lang, occasioned by his oratorical efforts during the day, he had been requested to say something in reply to the graceful remarks of Mr. Bannon. After speaking in complimentary terms of the nature of the entertainment, and the large audience present, he referred to the absence of Sergeant Kelley, Privates Crowley and Hayes, who were called away to do extra picket duty, and who were at that moment, with sleepless and vigilant eye, guarding the camp. He said, that greatly pleased as he was with the result of the afternoon’s work, it would be a crowning joy could he this evening create the nucleus of another branch of the beloved order, and advanced the idea that had been put into effect with so much enthusiasm in the afternoon by the members of the German tent, and call the new branch, the Irish branch. (Prolonged applause.) Continuing, he dwelt upon the happy results obtained by belonging to the organization, and the great benefits from an intellectual point of view; to breathe the same air, imbibe the same liquids with such intellectual giants as Dr. Burdick, Antonelli Gille, Sam Wise, and Joe Keene would result in permeating them with all the knowledge of the ancients and moderns, books could be thrown to the wind while sitting at the base of such monuments of learning. Amid the wildest applause Mr. Flanagan gravely arose, like a knight of old, and thus addressed the assembly. He said he was satisfied that the forming of the branch suggested by Mr. Kennedy, would meet with the hearty approval of every man in the Irish tent. As for himself he had been always a Keeley at heart, their principles had at all times filled him with admiration. The organization that contained in its by-laws that shining legend, “An invitation to imbibe is always in order,” deserved the commendation of every thinking man. He had only one request to make, and that was, that the circle composed by the members of his tent be called after his great ancestor, Ireland’s greatest king, Brian Boru. The enthusiasm at this point beggars description; the stirring words of Mr. Flanagan brought every man to his feet, and, amid great cheering, a bumper was drank to the welfare of the Brian Boru Lodge, of the Irish Branch of the Keeley Club. Through the storm of cheering the inspiring air, of “The Harp that Once Through Tara’s Halls,” burst upon the gathering rendered by Doc Sieberst on the tin whistle. After order was restored the initiating ceremonies were gone through, and the rest of the evening given up to song and recitation.

Taps put an end to their revelries, and, after many congratulations on all sides, each man went to his tent and soon the stillness of the night settled o’er the camp.

This silence was suddenly broken in upon by an uproar created by Sam Wise. Sam had gotten a little mixed when he retired, and, instead of disposing his body inside the tent, had become turned about and the most part of him was sticking out through the rear of the tent into G’s street. A guard passing down the street stumbled and fell on him. Sam, thinking he was being assaulted by the enemy made such a violent effort to beat off the imaginary foe, that he nearly dragged the tent down upon his comrades, at the same time yelling lustily for help. It was some time before he was quieted, and finally fell asleep.

Thus did this day come to a close, a day that will shine forever in the annals of the Keeley Club, a day crowded with pleasant memories, a day on which two lusty branches had put forth from the parent trunk, to grow, to blossom, and to bear fruit.

CHAPTER VI.

GENERAL EFFECTS OF THE STRIKE.

IN the previous chapters we have treated of the situation and the movements as confined to Sacramento. It is now our purpose to declare an intermission and treat of the situation as represented in other parts of the country as well as in other parts of California, thus bringing the different threads of the same movement to an equal level, before taking up the thread of the narrative again in Sacramento.

The strike involved three-fourths of the United States, and it was not long before it passed the bounds of legality. No unprejudiced person will ever deny to the workingman the right to strike; and, as long as he confines his labor troubles within the strict letter of this right, positive advancement can not fail to attend his efforts; but, when he adds to this acknowledged right the right to indulge in acts of incendiarism, robbery and even murder, then defeat will surely be his goal. Never before, in the history of the country, with the exception of the Civil War, was the United States ever menaced by a movement so fraught with danger and terror as this. It had become something of far greater importance than a mere quarrel between railroad corporations and their employees over a matter of wages; it amounted to an armed rebellion against the laws of the United States. Good men shuddered as they caught glimpses in the struggle of a future condition of affairs in which anarchy would reign supreme, and in which the stability of our government would be shaken to its foundation. Let us hope that this will never be; but rather, that the workingman will see that this form of government, which is essentially for the people and by the people, and his own development depend upon the adaptation of his growth to the growth of the laws. All over the country the lawlessness of the strikers was something fearful. The extent to which desperate men will go and the violent deeds they will resort to when their evil passions are aroused passeth all understanding. They lose all respect for the laws; and the dread consequences which attend their infringement have no terrors for them. They are inspired with a hatred for the troops. A National Guardsman is an object of especial aversion to them. When defeat stares them in the face they will work out their disappointment upon innocent persons, and the torch of incendiarism applied almost indiscriminately to property, with pillage and carnage, illuminate the last scenes of the conflict.

The state of affairs in the other affected cities of the East was but a reflection of the situation in Chicago, and, as it would be utterly impossible to give within the present limits of this work a separate account of the strike and its effects in each of these places, and further, as there is a universal resemblance in the effects of the strike throughout every affected section of the country, it will be sufficient for an intelligent understanding of the situation in the East to give in outline the situation in Chicago.

On the same day that the regulars were ordered to Los Angeles the Federal troops stationed at Fort Sheridan were ordered into Chicago. This force was steadily increased until it amounted to a thousand men under the command of General Miles. Concerning the occupancy of Chicago by the regulars a wordy dispute arose between the Governor of Illinois and the President of the United States. Governor Altgeld, in protesting against the presence of the troops in Chicago, stated that it was an invasion of State rights. Illinois, he said, had enough troops of her own to quell any disturbance that might arise within her borders. President Cleveland, however, maintained in his position, by Attorney General Olney, refused to withdraw the troops, as he deemed their presence necessary for the execution of the laws. The National Guard of Illinois was not really called out until later in the struggle. The regulars found little difficulty in dispersing the strikers; but the dispersions only had a tendency to drive the strikers to other points where they continued their depredations. Beside the regulars there was a small body of militia in the field. But, in spite of this force, the strikers seemed all powerful and masters of the situation; for when the city’s health was threatened by the stench that arose from the dead carcasses remaining uncarted away at the stockyards, the Mayor of Chicago, in order to have them removed by rail, was forced to appeal to Debs for permission to do so. Rioting also went on apparently unchecked. In the suburbs of Chicago numerous fires were seen blazing. The yard of the Panhandle Railroad Company was put to flames and a million dollars’ worth of property destroyed. The situation in Chicago, on July 6th was heralded by the San Francisco Daily Examiner thus:

FIRE AND PILLAGE

Wild Work of Destruction by
Thousands of Rioters
in Chicago

From Daylight to Midnight Mobs Hold
Possession of the Railroad Yards

The Torch Applied to Hundreds of Cars and Untold
Quantities of Merchandise Destroyed

Six Persons Killed and Innumerable Wounds From
Clubs, Bayonets, and Rocks The Day’s Record

A WILD CARNIVAL OF CRIME

On account of the troops in the field being insufficient to hold the strikers and prevent them from destroying property Mayor Hopkins called upon Governor Altgeld for further military assistance. So, on July 6th, two brigades of the National Guard, Illinois, were ordered into Chicago.

On July 7th the strikers had their first conflict with the National Guard, and the streets of Chicago became moistened with blood. A mob of strikers, 8,000 strong, bent on mischief was gathered around the Grand Trunk round-house with the intention of burning the same. Company F, of the Second Infantry, National Guard Illinois, commanded by Captain Kelly, was ordered to the spot, and succeeded for a time in forcing the crowd back. The mob becoming larger and more aggressive the troops began to withdraw and in a corresponding degree as the troops withdrew the strikers became more abusive, and finally commenced to throw bricks, stones, chunks of coal and coupling-pins at the troops. Under this heterogeneous fire the men behaved nobly and remained under the strict control of their officers. Several times the advance of the mob was stopped by being steadily met with elevated rifles. But patience is an exhaustible quantity, so, when the second lieutenant of the company was struck upon the head by several stones and felled to the ground, the men were immediately given the command to charge. One of the strikers with his hand in the air, in the very act of throwing a chunk of coal, had a bayonet plunged through his body. The mob gave away before the charge, but quickly rallied and discharged a number of shots at the troops. No further orders were needed by the men. Rifles were leveled and a sheet of lead mowed down the front rank of the strikers. The mob then fled in the wildest confusion. Too much credit cannot be bestowed upon this company for the manner in which it behaved. No company of regular troops ever acquitted themselves with greater honor, and none showed more loyalty and courage. May their example be ever imitated by the rest of the National Guard.

On July 8th the President’s proclamation was issued, the text of which has been set forth in the previous chapter. From this time on the strike in Chicago and in the East moved gradually toward the catastrophe, while on the surface it appeared all the time to be getting greater in magnitude. A new element which resembles somewhat the last kick of the mule was now about to enter upon the stage. President Sovereign of the Knight’s of Labor threatened to inaugurate a general strike. A sympathetic strike, to be a factor in the settlement of a direct strike, must be so related to it as to directly influence the person against whom the direct strike is waged, either by preventing him from manufacturing his goods or else from disposing of them. But when workmen threaten to inaugurate sympathetic strikes of the third, fourth, or fifth degree, which can only affect the person against whom the direct strike is waged in an indirect way, if it affects him at all, they threaten to inaugurate movements which contain within themselves the germs of suicide. How absurd it is to inaugurate a strike among the journeymen tailors, because their employer furnishes clothes to the man who sells groceries to the person who operates mines which supply coal to the railroad companies that use Pullman cars. This string might run back in ad infinitum.

The arrest of President Debs on July 10th added another force to increase the downward impetus of the movement towards the end. This, together with the failure to make good the threat to order a general strike and especially the proposal made by Debs to the railroad companies, and which was not accepted, to declare the strike off provided the men were allowed to return to their old positions, gave evidence of an early dissolution of the strike. And though the strike was not settled until sometime later, and while rioting did not cease though it became lesser in degree, until the very end of the strike, still the ranks of the strikers from this time on became gradually thinned out and the men showed a strong inclination to return to work. It might be said that the climax of the strike in the East was passed on July 10th.