San Joaquin
County History
History of San Joaquin County, California with Biographical Sketches - Historic Record Company, Los Angeles, CA - 1923
CHAPTER IX
JUSTICE COURTS-SQUATTERS-MOB LAW
IT is a surprising fact that so few persons in any community realize the value, the necessity and the strict observance of law. As a rule they believe, or profess to believe, that they should respect and obey no law that does not meet their approval, forgetting perhaps that laws are passed for the good of the public in general and therefore should be obeyed by all honorable men regardless of their individual opinion. To illustrate, note the thousands of honorable citizens who are daily violating the prohibition and the automobile laws, forsooth they do not believe them just laws. In the early days of San Joaquin County there were hundreds of men who were of the same opinion as the "wets" and the "speeders". They had no respect for the laws, no regard for the rights, the property or the lives of others in that community. The consequence was the laws were trampled under foot and all manner of crimes were committed.
A Riot of Crime
The cry of gold in California brought to the territory not only thousands of honest industrious young men, but it also brought hundreds of criminals from every land and nation, many of them steeped in crime. It became a place of refuge for men escaping punishment, and a place where criminals could continue in crime and reap greater rewards than in their own country, with less danger of being caught and punished. Among the worst of criminals who came into the state were those from Sydney, Australia, who were known as "Sydney ducks". You remember that many years ago Australia was the penal colony of England, where all criminals were banished. They were a terror to the law-abiding citizen. The Stockton press in June, 1851, gave the following warning, "Look out, Citizens, we have been informed that eight 'Sydney Ducks' arrived on the steamer this morning. The dread of the Vigilance Committee in San Francisco has induced them to seek more healthy quarters." Then there were the Mexican criminals, for California in the early '40s was the penal territory of Mexico. Because of the Mexican war there was no love lost between the Mexicans and the Americans. Then there came another class from the south and west, a bullying braggadocio class that despised a man who believed a negro was a human being and should be so treated. They declared that they had won the Mexican war and California belonged exclusively to them. These men brooked no laws or restraint and always armed with a bowie knife or revolver, sometimes both weapons, defied any man or set of men to arrest or punish them for any misdeeds. They would fill up on "old Kentucky Rye" and then mounting their mustangs ride rapidly up and down the streets whooping and yelling and firing their pistols in every direction. I have seen them cruelly spur their horses across the sidewalk into a saloon, drink from the bar when mounted, and then tell the barkeeper to charge it. If they didn't sweep his tumblers to the floor and ruin his fine looking glass with bullets, he was lucky. Sometimes a crowd of them in a saloon would draw their pistols and "shoot up the place". On one occasion the bullet went through the ceiling with the following result as quoted in the
newspaper, "Died. February 22, 1851, Edwin Moss, twenty-six years of age. His death was caused by the accidental discharge of a pistol. He was asleep in an upper room and the pistol was discharged in a room beneath the ball passing through the floor and several blankets, then through the body, causing instant death." Nearly all of this class of men "died with their boots on" as was the expression. They were shot and killed in shooting scrapes during the first ten or fifteen years.
Courts and Law
In order to suppress and punish outlawry such as this, laws and their enforcement were necessary. But for several months the county was without any laws except the good old moral law, Do unto others as you would they should do unto you. The state government was not organized until November, 1849; the county government in April, 1850 and the city government in August, 1850. The crimes which were daily taking place compelled the law-abiding citizens to adopt some form of government, and in want of something better they adopted the Mexican form of government. The Mexican form comprised what was known as the Courts of the First, the Second and Third Instance, all three of these courts corresponding to our county, state and National courts. Mexico organized her government after the United States model. Their officer, which was similar to our justice of the peace, was known as an alcalde, and his badge of office was a heavy cane with a large round silver knob at the head. After the organization of our government the legislature declared that the judicial officers should comprise a justice of the peace, a court of sessions and a district court, the last named including two or more counties. The court of sessions was composed of a county and two associate judges. When the new constitution of the state was adopted in 1880 it abolished the district court and the court of sessions, substituting for the last named a superior court and a county judge.
The justice courts of the early days were a joke and an instigator of crime and seldom legal or just in their decisions, because ignorant and ofttimes unprincipled men were elected to the office. They would sometimes be intimidated by the counsel for the defense and dare not give a decision adverse to his client. Juries also were threatened. At one trial David S. Terry, laying his revolver upon the table, demanded that the jury acquit his client. These justices also favored and discharged all friends brought into court for trial and often accepted bribes. Knives and pistols were often drawn in the court room to enforce certain demands, and bedlam then broke loose. The judges were ignorant of law, often ignorant of the use of correct language. Some of the decisions of one of these judges have come down to us. His name was John J. Jenkins; he was a short, thick-set, round-faced man of southern birth, honest, easy-going and friendly with everybody, but he was ignorant of the first principles of law, yet being popular he was elected a justice and later district attorney. In September, 1854, Officer Connolley, one of the city police, arrested a man named J. R. Butler on the charge of grand larceny and took him before Judge Jenkins. The judge in recording this case in his docket said, "On examination of the complaint it found it to be petty larceny and twelve men were summoned to make a jury to try the case." After hearing the testimony they brought in a verdict of guilty. "I ordered him to have twenty lashes on the bare back and remanded him to jail." At another time, said the judge, "Officer Barnes brought into court Wm. Hill, a drunken worthless-looking fellow, who had formerly been an inmate of the asylum. He had no money and on his promise to leave the city I let him depart." Another vagrant was brought before the judge, "Defendant James Wilson was brought before me as a vagrant; had no money nor did he look as if he ever would; discharged on condition that he go to work or leave." At another time Pedro Antonio got off easily, "The defendant was charged with being drunk in the streets of Stockton. He said he had been sick, came to Stockton for medicine and his friends got him drunk, and as he was quiet and it was a holiday he was discharged." John Roberts was punished. He was arrested on the charge of furious riding through the streets. "I saw the offense committed myself; as it was an aggravated affair I ordered that he pay a fine of twenty dollars and stand committed until the same is paid." In February, 1855, a man was brought before the Justice "charged with assault and drawing a pistol, a six-shooter pepper-box pistol on one John Brown." The defendant was fined fifty dollars and the pistol forfeited to the city.
Terry's First Duel
David S. Terry, whose name will appear many times in this work during the first thirty years, was a young, hot-headed, blustering southerner from Texas. He was a firm friend, and a good hater of an enemy. His first duel was of the Damon and Pythian order, being willing to sacrifice his life on the altar of friendship. In the spring of 1850, Dr. W. D. Aylett, E. L. B. Brooks, Richard P. Ashe, Samuel A. Booker, William D. Fair and George G. Belt were all close friends in Stockton, together with a Dr. Roberts of Mexico, who professed to be a physician and surgeon. George G. Belt, who at the time was the proprietor of the Hotel de Mexico, learned by some means that Dr. Roberts was masquerading under a false name and was in fact a noted bandit and horse thief. Belt, believing he was doing his friend Terry a kind act, told him of the character of the so-called Dr. Roberts alias Yeomans. Terry immediately denied the charge. This was equivalent to telling Judge Belt that he was a liar, a traducer of Terry's friend, and immediately Belt challenged Terry to a duel. The time, the place and the weapons were named, the duel to take place at daylight in the southwestern part of the town. Unfortunately the only definite account of this affair, so important in the history of the state because of the future prominence of Terry, is from the writings of James A. Woods, the pastor and founder of the First Presbyterian Church. He had just arrived in town the day previous with his family and was residing at the Dickenson House on Center Street. As early as "four o'clock in the morning the people of the Dickenson house, where we were lodging, were excitedly moving about getting ready to attend the "Field of Honor." Through the cloth partition he could hear them talking about the anticipated duel, and he came to the quick conclusion that there was a great necessity for a Presbyterian Church organization. The large crowd gathered on the spot expected to see blood shed for both were brave men, and good marksmen. The bystanders however were disappointed as the seconds of Terry succeeded in showing him that Roberts was an impostor, and that he has been too hasty in calling Belt a liar. The duel was called off, and the two men shaking hands, resumed their former friendship. Terry became a Supreme Judge of the state, was imprisoned by the Vigilantes of San Francisco, for stabbing Hopkins. The slayer of Broderick, then the leader of the Democratic party, Terry was shot and killed in 1889 in the Lathrop Hotel by Naglee, the bodyguard of the United States Supreme Court Justice, Stephen J. Field.
The Stockton Alcaldes
Gallant D. Dickenson, a pioneer of 1847, was Stockton's first alcalde, under Mexican administration. He was an honorable man, a Christian layman, and his eldest daughter was the first of Stockton's brides. George G. Belt, the second alcalde, was the first official under American rule. James R. Reynolds, the third in office, was a very corrupt and dishonest alcalde. Ben E. Williams was of the same stripe, and later elected county judge, was indicted for malfeasance in office. He was never brought to trial as the district attorney refused to prosecute him. George G. Belt, a large, portly Marylander, born in Baltimore, came to Stockton in 1848, at the age of twenty-six years. He began merchandising, his store or tent having been erected on two lots given him by Captain Weber at the corner of Levee and Center streets. He married a Mexican woman by whom he had a large family. He later engaged in stockraising and farming and finally located in Merced County.
Tragic Death of Alcalde Belt
Belt was killed June 3, 1869, by William Dennis, a pioneer and former city councilman in a shoot-at-sight duel. The two men had had some difficulty over money matters, and Dennis said that Belt had cheated several men out of their money. The two men parted, each threatening to kill the other at sight. On the day mentioned Belt came to Stockton on business from his Merced home. He was doubly "heeled" for his enemy with a derringer pistol and a bowie knife. A derringer was a single-barreled firearm, a very deadly weapon, carrying a large ball and was known as a dueling pistol. On arrival in Stockton, his friends warned him of the threat made by Dennis. "I don't think there is any danger," he said, referring to his weapons. Passing a gun store, he exclaimed, "I think I had better reload," and the weapon was reloaded. While standing on Center Street about 12 o'clock, talking with some friends a loud report rang out and Judge Belt fell dead upon the sidewalk, a bullet crashing into his brain just under the left ear. Wm. Woods, running up to the body exclaimed, "Who did this?" "I did," said Dennis. "I gave him just what I promised him." The homicide was arrested by the chief of police, Wm. F. Fletcher, (later a member of the Oakland police force for many years), and taken to jail.
Dennis had been one of Stockton's most quiet and peaceful citizens. He was a widower, a man of considerable property, and evidently considered himself justified in the act, especially after the coroner, Morris H. Bond found a bowie knife on Belt, nearly new, and his right hand in his coat pocket firmly grasping a derringer. The public had no sympathy for the deceased as he was always known as an overbearing, bullying fighter, but they did not approve of the manner in which Dennis killed him. It appeared cowardly, Dennis probably hiding behind some grain sacks, as he was only hiding four feet away when he fired. Then
came the trial before Judge Joseph W. Cavis in the district court. The grand jury had indicted Dennis for manslaughter, and the contest was to save the old man from state's prison. The district attorney, E. S. Pillsbury, was assisted in the prosecution by N. Greene Curtis of Sacramento, acknowledged the best criminal lawyer in the state. The defendant was represented by local attorneys, Joseph H. Budd, Samuel A. Booker, Wm. L. Dudley. L. T. Carr and Peter S. Wilkes. The trial commenced October 25, 1869, and continued two weeks, other business being brought up and postponed from day to day. November 9 at 12:30 Pillsbury began the closing argument, followed by Budd at 4:15, he closing at 9:10 that evening. Dudley occupied the morning session and a part of the afternoon, Booker speaking from 2:30 until 4:30. Court then adjourned until 7:30 and Curtis closing at 11 o'clock p. m. The judge then delivered his charge and the jury, locked up for the night, returned a verdict the following morning of "guilty of murder in the second degree." The verdict was not much of a surprise for at that time two other murder cases were on trial and a third murderer had just been captured. The judge sentenced Dennis to the state's prison for ten years. He there died in less than twenty months.
Punishments for Crime
The punishments for crime were many in number and included hanging, whipping, imprisonment, ducking, branding and for lesser crimes, rail-riding and blanket-tossing. The punishment of whipping was inflicted at the public whipping post. At the time of the justice court was located on a brig in the channel a whipping post was erected on the bank, and the culprit, bare to the waist, was fastened to the post and the number of lashes, imposed by the court, laid on with a heavy whip. After the renting of a building for a jail, the prisoner was privately whipped. Thongs were fastened around his wrists thrown over the cell door and fastened on the other side. The punishment of ducking was executed by fastening the prisoner to the yard arm of the brig and then lowering him into the water several times, until justice was satisfied. These punishments were illegally inflicted hundreds of times upon criminals or presumed criminals by mobs of men, and a case in point of both whipping and branding was that of January 4, 1851. A few miles out of town on the Calaveras River a man was caught stealing a horse. He said he was a Kentuckian and gave a fictitious name. A jury was impaneled and after trial was sentenced to be hung. A gentleman present begged for and saved his life, but the fellow was given fifty lashes and branded horse thief.
In the following month, February 23, the sympathetic editor said under the caption "Served Him Right," "On Sunday last a man formerly employed in the American navy, was detected in the act of stealing a mule near the bridge. The crowd speedily procured a rope, tied it around his neck and forced him into the water. He swam across to the opposite side and was then pulled back again by means of the rope. The crowd was then tying him up to a tree to give him a lashing when the marshal appeared and took him to jail."
Imprisonment was the most common form of punishment and for those jailed only a few days for minor offenses the question was asked. "Why should these fellows lie in jail with board and lodging at the expense of the public?" This question was asked in 1861 by the editor of the Stockton Independent when the authorities decided to put the prisoners at work improving the court house grounds. The Independent said: "Hereafter when an individual gets drunk and breaks windows and abuses policemen, and everyone else, instead of nice board and lodging at the public expense for a few days, he will be expected to do some work. This is an excellent idea and will prevent crime instead of increasing it." Said the Times. "Every week we have the proof of the necessity of a town council and the punishment of criminal outcasts. Why should we not have a chain gang to perform such labor as cleaning the streets? San Francisco derives much benefit from their services." The chain gang was at work on the streets at different periods of time and as late as 1888 five Chinamen were at work and two policemen, Nap Edwards and Thomas Towle, guarding them. About this time some vagrants were put to work on Main street, and one of them was in a disgraceful condition. It was a cold day and the man had on no clothing but a faded coat and pants all rags. It excited the sympathies of the passersby and James H. Budd declared that if the man was not taken back to jail and given some decent clothing he would prosecute the whole crowd, meaning the officials. On another occasion sometime later the men were worked on the streets, and Frank D. Nichol took up their case. One of the vagrants demanded a jury trial, and the attorney by a very shrewd fallacious argument proved that it was no crime for a poor man to walk along the sidewalk. The man was acquitted and the entire bunch turned loose to again beg from door to door and continue their petty crimes. Later regular employees were engaged by the street superintendent to clean the streets and a political machine formed of city employees.
In the earlier days the "boys" had an excellent method of getting rid of deadbeats and fakers by what was known as rail-riding and blanket-tossing. It was fun for the fellows but tough on the victim. A lawyer defending these fellows would have been given the same medicine, neither his profession nor dignity would have saved him. The riding of a man on a rail was a very severe punishment, even torture, especially if the man's hands were tied. Blanket-tossing was a very novel and ludicrous proceeding; strong blankets were used with leather handholds on each side. The offender was tossed up in the blanket, and the severity or lightness of his punishment depended upon the tension of the blanket whether held taut or loose. In August, 1856, a man blew into town and proceeded to do everybody with a hard luck story. He obtained considerable money from the merchants, hotelkeepers and others and then disappeared. In a few days he returned with the same gladsome smile and the "dead broke" appeal. The boys this time "spotted" him and concluded to have some fun. As he approached a man in a saloon and asked the loan of a dollar, the blanket men rushed in and the deadbeat was soon trying to bump the ceiling of the room. Then one of the handles tore out, and the man was allowed to depart. Unwisely entering another saloon, he asked the barkeeper for a drink; in the meantime the sports had obtained a second blanket and now grabbing the poor fellow they tossed him up to the "queen's taste." The following morning he was seen about six miles out, hiking for Sacramento.
A Fake Shakespearean Actor
The pioneers had no respect for self-conceited persons impostors or dudes. A funny incident happened to a would-be actor; his name was McDonald and he claimed to be a Shakespearean actor. He came to Stockton in 1857 and advertised that he would give readings from Shakespeare in the Stockton Theater. The price of tickets was one dollar. The citizens had heard of him in other places but they concluded to pay their dollar, and get their money's worth in fun. The house was crowded, for it had been whispered around town that there would be a barrel of fun. The man had neither dramatic or elocutionary ability and appearing on the stage amidst prolonged applause he poorly recited "The Fate of Genius." He then began a selection from Hamlet.
"To be or not to be, that is the question" Just about that time a potato, thrown from the gallery, hit the back of the stage. He gave no heed to the coming storm but continued his reading. Several potatoes were thrown in quick succession. Believing that was Stockton's way of honoring a genius, he held his ground. Then cabbages began to fill the air and McDonald thinking it was about time to get under cover turned to leave the stage. The reception committee were there to receive, bearing with them a strong blanket. Grabbing the actor they began tossing him up at a lively gait, every bounce sending him higher toward the top of the proscenium. The audience was in an uproar, laughing and yelling. As soon as McDonald was given his freedom he made quick tracks from the theater and left town as soon as possible.
Judge Reynolds Holds Court in Saloon
John Nye, who owned and managed the Gault House, now the location of the United States Hotel on Center Street, a man of property and later for many years snare drummer in the cornet band, told me this story of Alcalde James R. Reynolds. He and Samuel Geddes, in 1849, erected a small one-story brick building on the corner of Center and Main streets at a cost of $14,000. The building was occupied as a saloon, the proprietor giving it the name of the Central Exchange. A noted gambler named "Bob" Collins rented a portion of the room for gambling tables, paying $1,000 a month rent; business was not as lively as he anticipated. At this time Judge Reynolds was holding his court on board a store ship in Stockton channel. Collins conceived the plan of having the Judge move his court to the saloon. "If we can get him to do that," said Collins to the proprietor, "it will draw a crowd to court and we can do a way-up business." It was agreed between them that the Judge was to have plenty of free whisky and a bedroom in the attic. Bob that day saw the Judge and walking down to the Exchange, they took a social drink. Bob brought up the subject of the removal of the court to the saloon; he showed the advantage of the location, the fine room, free lodging, and then they took a drink. The Judge immediately fell for the scheme, and moved his extensive office holdings and library consisting of a table, pen and ink, old Spanish law book and his bed to the Central Exchange. Everything was harmonious in the new quarters, the bartender sold his liquors, the gamblers dealt out monte and the Judge held court in one corner of the room. One day a young fellow came into the saloon and deposited some money in Collins' bank. He called for his coin the following day and Collins laughed at him, saying, "You are dreaming, you left no money here." The fellow insisted that he had left some money and commenced suit against Collins for its recovery. While the case was in progress the judge, stern appearing and dignified, sat in an arm chair elevated upon a large dry goods box. The money had been brought from the safe and was lying upon the table. The parties could not come to any decision in the matter and finally some one suggested that Collins and the young fellow divide the money. The lawyers for the parties now began to hedge. "I want my fee out of this," said D. S. Terry. "And I shall have my fee," exclaimed Lawyer Perley, putting his hand behind him as if to draw a weapon. In an instant fifty hands went to their pockets for bowie knives and pistols. The Judge, quickly observing the state of affairs, quietly stepped down from the dry goods box and raked all of the money into his hat, remarking "that the court must take care of itself." He then dismissed the suit. Bob was very much displeased at the way the judge had put it over him and he concluded to get even. He declared, "this court is ruining my business; everybody rushes over to that corner and leaves me all alone." Then he schemed to get rid of the Judge. One day he got the Judge into a game of poker, and by putting up aces on the Judge, won all of his money. The court was "dead broke" and helpless and Collins then called upon Alcalde Dickenson to eject him from the room for nonpayment of rent. Judge Reynolds then left for Mexico and never returned to California.
The Brig Susanna
The least desirable place to an honorable, industrious citizen is the county jail, but it is the desired refuge for the lazy, shiftless and vicious class, especially during the winter months when they can get free board and lodging and a turkey dinner on Thanksgiving day as became the custom in Sheriff Cunningham's time and since. In the earlier days criminals were lucky to get sufficient coffee, bread and meat, for then a criminal was regarded as a social outcast, a vampire of society. In those days the first place of confinement of prisoners was on the French brig Susanna, which had been run aground in the Mormon channel. The brig was owned by Emile Junge, and the county paid him $500 a month rent. Even at this high figure he swore most emphatically that he could keep the prisoners no longer on such terms and he declared that he would turn them loose if not taken off his hands, said Judge Williams in his report. The cause of his anger was the low price of county script. He was compelled to take script for his pay and then discount it twenty-five per cent to get the coin. Louis Basilio, on one occasion in speaking of this brig said, "In 1849 I was working as a blacksmith at eight dollars a day in a shop at the corner of Hunter and Market streets. One of my duties was to rivet shackles on the legs of prisoners. The prisoners were kept on the lower floor of the brig, and the man in charge of the prison generally laid on the floor just above the deck. A cleated plank descended from the upper floor. Every night I went down that plank with my tools and shackles (to iron the prisoners) and the jailer stood guard at the hole with pistols and guns ready to kill the entire lot if they made any resistance. After being shackled they were chained to beams which supported the upper floor."
When the brig was no longer used as a prison the criminals were confined in some room of a house or in the basement. This was very expensive and unsafe and the grand jury in 1851, reporting said, "In pursuance of their duty they visited the county jail and found it entirely inadequate for the safe keeping of prisoners. The revolting spectacle of an American citizen in chains and that before a trial has become a necessity from this cause." The shackling again of prisoners arose from the fact that a short time previous "two prisoners who were confined in gaol escaped from confinement about 8 o'clock in the evening. Rushing from their cell to an outer apartment where two turnkeys were sitting at the time, they reached the balcony in front and jumped to the ground. The one sprained his ankle and was easily caught, but the other escaped in the darkness." The guards were not overly vigilant although they were each paid $120 a month. Three hundred dollars a month was paid for rent of the court house, $120 a month for rent of jail and this, together with the two guards' salary, totalled a yearly expense for the keeping of prisoners of $7900 a year, to say nothing of their board. Thus it went on until 1853, when Judge Root recommended that the jail be removed to the John McNish building, northwest corner of Hunter and Channel streets; the court house was then in that building. Two years later the court room was a school room, and today one of the pupils in that room is writing this paragraph.
Market Street Jail
In a former chapter we wrote of the building of the court house and at the same time bids were let for a county jail. The talk was to erect a joint court house and jail On the public square, but the grand jury of that year, 1853, opposed that plan, reporting, "Jails are sometimes erected on a public square of a city, but this is deemed to be in bad taste and it should be located outside of the well settled parts of the city, as crime and the wretchedness which flows from it are unpleasant subjects for the contemplation of good people." There were men of refined sensibilities in that day as well as this. Where did the supervisors place the present jail to save cost and time? On the corner of Channel and San Joaquin Streets, within 400 feet of the largest church and where hundreds of children pass each day on their way to school. I am thirty years ahead of my subject and we will return to the grand jury of 1853, that considered decency and refinement of far greater value than money. "We have examined the jail and find it insecure and unfit for the keeping of prisoners. A constant watch is kept at considerable expense to the county, several extra guards being necessary at all times of the day and night, an expense that could be avoided only by the erection of a suitable building for a jail." The idea of erecting a combination jail and court house was given up, and a jail was erected on Market Street, about 300 feet south of the court house, and convenient to the court. It was a two story brick building, in size 30x40 feet, the entire building being less than twenty-five feet in height. The walls were two feet in thickness and from the second floor to the top of the fire wall a one-eighth inch sheet iron plate was set in the center of the wall. In the second story there were six small windows with iron gratings. The building was inclosed with a brick wall about fifteen feet in height, the top of the wall covered with broken glass bottles. These bottles in time became firmly embedded in earth blown from the street. The building cost about $15,000 and was in use as a jail for nearly forty years. Within its wall have been confined some of the deepest-dyed criminals in the history of crime and here for a short time, Naglee, the bodyguard of Justice Stephen J. Field, was confined, he who shot and killed Davis S. Terry. From the rear of the jail were hung six murderers. Time and again attention was called to the old building by the grand juries and the press, the press as early as 1868 saying, "It is a misnomer to designate the miserable dilapidated stack of bricks as a building at all." So unsafe was the building in Sheriff Cunningham's time, when he had desperate prisoners in confinement he placed upon one leg what was known as the Oregon boot, a heavy piece of iron band with chain and iron ball.
No movement was made towards the erection of a new "calaboose" until 1886. At that time the supervisors had given up the plan of building a jail in connection with the court house and they purchased two lots at the corner of San Joaquin and Channel streets, for $6,000. The lots were formerly the location of Wm. Derrick's blacksmith shop and windmill manufactory and at the time of sale belonged to Wm. M. Hickman. In July, 1891, the architect, David Salfield, under the direction of Sheriff Cunningham, drew plans for a jail, safe against jail breaks, and convenient and comfortable for the prisoners. The supervisors issued bonds to the amount of $50,000 for its erection, bearing interest at four per cent. There were no bidders and they were compelled to issue a new series of bonds at five per cent. Then unwisely and unfortunately the supervisors, to save money, began cutting out all of the necessary conveniences, including closets in the cells. As a result the prison is today a foul-smelling nuisance on one of the principal streets of the city. The contract for the building was let to the brickmason, Sol . Confer. It was completed and ready for the transfer of the prisoners from the Market Street jail in May, 1893. On the 15th of May it was open for the inspection of the public and over 5,000 citizens visited the place during the day and evening.
Imperfect Land Titles
In a former chapter we wrote of the Mexican grants El Campo de los Franceses, El Pescadero, Chabolla and Moquelemos, which had been given to Mexican citizens in this section of the territory. After Mexico ceded California to the United States some of these grants were recognized by the Government as valid, but hundreds of the state grants were declared to be imperfect and were in dispute for many years and not until 1862 the first named San Joaquin County granted perfected. Because of the imperfect titles a great many lawsuits have taken place, together with bloodshed, riotous acts and several murders. Many persons would preempt land and then, carrying their claims over a larger amount of land than they were entitled to, would try to hold it either by force or by law. The doubtful ownership of lands led to the creation of a body of men known as "squatters." They would "squat" upon a piece of land, already claimed by another party and by force or intimidation attempt to hold it.
The First Squatters
In the spring of 1850 this kind of trouble began and parties "jumped" several lots on the Levee in Stockton claimed by Captain C. M. Weber under his Mexican title. They set up their tents on the lots and defied any person to eject them. The following day they were arrested and suit of ejectment was commenced in the Court of Sessions. There was a formidable array of attorneys on each side. Captain Weber retained as his counsel Samuel A. Booker, Wm. D. Fair, Dr. R. Roberts and Thomas B. Van Buren; the squatters, to plead their claims, engaged D. W. Perley, E. L. B. Brooks, David S. Terry, Hairston Amyx and Slocum and Spafford. It was a gathering of attorneys, with two or three exceptions, the equal of any attorneys in the state. Judgment was given to the plaintiff, Captain Weber. During the week of June 1, 1850, some persons took a foolish notion into their heads that they might squat with impunity upon the property of other persons. "One man, thinking that he might as well, in common parlance, go the whole hog, squatted upon a lot on the Levee valued at $10,000. Crowds of people gathered to witness the spectacle, and the valiant hero bore his blushing honors for several hours, then the thought of unpleasant consequences took possession of him and both the squatter and his tent suddenly vanished in the night. During the night several other tents were pitched in various parts of the town and there shortly existed a mania for squatting on the property of the old settlers. These efforts seemed to have been principally leveled against Mr. Weber's claim, as to the mere legality of which we are quite satisfied." In 1854 the tall, high-cheek-boned attorney, Hairston Amyx, who always carried a six cylinder revolver, concluded that he would take a hand at squatting and he laid claim to a part of the Hunter Street side of the Court House Square. He alleged for his action, that Captain Weber's Mexican title was invalid. He dug post holes along the block line and putting in posts, erected a fence. He had not made any calculations on the actions of a gritty Yankee mayor, J. M. Buffington, who ordered the fence torn down and the lumber sent to the city jail. It was sold and the money turned into the city treasury.
Hundreds of property lawsuits might be written up but we must confine our writing to three or four of the most important cases. One of the most daring and insolent was the Day-Light affair. In November, 1850, A. B. Light located on a tract of land on the Calaveras River which he found vacant. Not making any inquiries as to ownership he built a house and began improving the land. Later he learned that James Daly had a previous claim but nevertheless he intended to hold it. May, 1851, Daly came on to the ranch and Light, well-armed, ordered him off the place. Daly left, but later returned with eight friends well-armed and they called on Light to come out and settle the question. He very sensibly refused to tackle a crowd of eight to one. The Daly men left, and Light took his wife to a place of safety. While Light was absent Daly sent men on to the land to cut grass for hay. Later the Light crowd got possession of Daly and compelled him to sign the following quitclaim deed. "In accordance with the request of several American citizens, I, James Daly, hereby obligate myself to leave this place, relinquishing any claim heretofore made on the opposite side of the river now occupied by A. B. Light, and also agree not to come within 100 miles of this place after July 25 in default of which I am to receive thirty-six lashes on the bare back, or such other punishment as the above-named citizens shall inflict. (signed) James Daly." This high-handed proceeding took place on Sunday, June 22. Daly then came to town and took refuge in the Murphy & Durgeson bakery on the Levee. The rioters, learning that Daly had not left Stockton the following Tuesday, eighteen of them mounted and armed with rifles, rode into town and demanded that Daly be given up to them. Their demand was refused, and they expressed belligerent intentions. It looked like war and the San Joaquin Guard, organized a few days previous with Maj. R. P. Hammond as captain was ordered under arms. "The Missourians," as the press styled them, after considerable blustering rode away without accomplishing their object.
The Battle of Waterloo
The next interesting land excitement took place just ten years later, November 9, 1861. It was known as the "Battle of Waterloo," so-called because fought near the farming village of that name. Among the pioneers of that section is was one of the standing jokes of their life time—the thought of a lone squatter standing off a cannon and a party of settlers and then giving them the laugh. Along in the '50s, a young man named Almer Drulliard purchased a tract of land eight miles to the northeast of Waterloo of Kelty & Reynolds paying them, with the improvements, $6,000. He was presumed to have purchased 160 acres, but land was cheap, and the former owners had been claiming twice that amount. A Canadian wagonmaker, about thirty years of age, named John Balkwell, who had formerly been located at French Camp, concluded that Waterloo with its hotel, blacksmith shop and four saloons was a better business place than the camp, so with his family he removed to Waterloo, never dreaming that he would make the place a historic spot for future generations. Drulliard permitted Balkwell to occupy twenty-five acres of his rancho for a home and garden. After living there about eleven months he learned that Drulliard had more land than he actually bought and he immediately filed a claim for the extra 160 acres. This meant war, and as Hopkins said, "to jump an idle piece of land was no particular crime, titles being so doubtful, (this was within the Pico grant) but when any one tried it the farmers generally banded together to protect each other."
Balkwell was no coward and anticipating trouble, he built a fort impregnable against rifle bullets or buckshot charges. The fort, 10 x 12 feet in size, was built of a double wall of one-inch Oregon pine, the hollow space between the walls being filled in solidly with earth. There were port holes about three inches square in the front and ends. The structure was covered with a shed roof. Balkwell provided himself with plenty of food, water, ammunition and four double-barrelled shotguns, two rifles, a revolver and an ax and awaited events. The settlers were aroused, their rights of ownership had been challenged and they resolved to drive out their enemy. Seeing at once that Balkwell could not be driven out by any shotgun barrage or rifle tactics, a number of the farmers came to Stockton in a four-horse wagon in the stillness of the night and taking the old nine-pound cannon, that had fired many a patriotic and political salute, transported it to the field of battle. During the day, Deputy Sheriff George R. Choate had visited the parties but failed to avert the fearful slaughter of the morrow. He concluded to remain in Waterloo and await results. The battle was timed for 9 o'clock, but the besiegers, learning that the deputy sheriff was in that vicinity, resolved to open fire at daybreak. Balkwell had no fear of that cannon if they did not come too near. Loading it with powder, scraps of iron, nuts, bolts, pieces of chain, and other refuse from the blacksmith shop, they began moving the wagon towards the fort. When within about 250 yards, Balkwell fired a shot from a rifle at them. It was a warning—"thus far shalt thou come and no farther.' The cannon was then fired, and the charge, scattering badly, fell short. Then came the second rifle shot, and a second cannon discharge. Elevating the piece a third charge went over the fort; the fourth time it again fell short. The besieged was not idle and he fired five rifle shots, none took effect, except one shot which broke J. H. Tone's index finger. At this time the deputy sheriff, hearing the bombardment, hastened to the scene, and all hostilities were declared off. Ten of the farmers were arrested and charged with riotous acts. Some were found guilty after a jury trial and some acquitted. They were all honorable citizens and became well-to-do farmers. Balkwell, through the courts, retained a part of the land. Not one of them is now alive.
The Comstock Affair
Another exciting event the following year was the Comstock fight, which threatened to develop into a very serious affair because of the hatred then growing intense between the Northern and Southern men of the county, and the reported defiance of the Southerners for law and order. Along in 1852 or 1853 a man named Eli H. Comstock located some land about two miles east of Waterloo, and in 1856 he reclaimed it under the state school warrant law. It was within the disputed Pico Grant and Comstock paid out a large sum of money to Francis Pico, who claimed that part of the grant. In November, 1860, Comstock cancelled his claim to the land under the school warrant law, and located a new tract, presumed to be outside of Pico's claim. Soon after this Comstock died and a party of squatters jumped the Comstock land. Emile Hestres, the Stockton commission merchant, was appointed by the court, administrator of the Comstock estate, and he commenced a suit of ejectment together with damages against the squatters, Thomas Brown, Andrew Harris, C. L. Clements and D. L. Hopkins. Hestres won the suit and was given $2,500 damages.
Sheriff Thomas K. Hook was ordered by the court to go out and place the administrator, Hestres, in possession of the land in dispute. The sheriff found several men on the place and they refused to vacate. The second time he went out and tried to show them that they must obey the law even if force was used to eject them. They replied that they would resist all force and defied the sheriff to eject them, even threatening his life. Then all kinds of wild reports floated around. It was said that there were from fifty to sixty men on the place, that they were all well-armed and that David S. Terry was one of the number, Terry himself having land in that vicinity. It was reported that they were all secessionists, and fortified behind a brick wall some thirty feet long and five feet high, which Comstock had commenced for a granary, they would fire even upon the state militia. Sheriff Hook, June 1, 1862, called upon the Union Guard to enforce the law and put the administrator in possession of the land. The following morning the Guards under the command of Captain Pearsall assembled in the Agricultural Hall and fell into line. No braver body of men ever assembled upon the field of battle, for these men, although of the state militia, had volunteered to go to any part of the Union where duty called. It was a trying situation, for many of the men were married with families, and they knew not the result of the coming day. It was a study to see them, some were pale with excitement, others joking and laughing to conceal their real feelings. As each man was handed three rounds of cartridges, Robert Hanks, holding up one cartridge said, "Here's one for Dave Terry if ever he shows his head over that fort." There was a bitter feeling against Terry for the killing of Broderick, for having him now within their power, defying the United States authorities, they would have tried to kill him. But Terry was not there, he was too well posted in law to oppose the Government. The Guards in wagons and carriages started for the scene at 10 o'clock and when near Waterloo were met by a messenger who stated that the settlers had all vacated the place. The militia went on to Waterloo, stacked arms, had dinner and remained until two o'clock, then returned home. The sheriff put Thomas Marshall in charge of the place, he appointed two men to remain on the land and came to town. As soon as the militia had gone from sight, the squatters returned and informed the two men in charge "that they had better leave, as it would be unhealthy for them to remain." The men then accompanied some of the squatters to Waterloo, had a social drink, and coming to town reported the event. Once again, twenty-one years later, the militia was called out to compel squatters to obey the law in the Moquelemos affair.
A Mob Law Court
We cannot criticize the actions of the mob in pioneer days too severely when we read of the actions of the Ku Klux Klan in Kern County a few months ago. The pioneers lived in an unsettled country with scarcely any law and desperadoes on every hand, while the presumed law-abiding K. K. K. lived in a civilized, peaceful community. One of the most numerous crimes of the early day was stealing. "The country is infested with horse thieves," said the Times. The evil has become one of great magnitude and the victims are taking the law in their own hands." One of these victims was Billy Owens, one of the well-known gamblers of the town. He had a little white pony which he highly prized and May 24, 1851, the pony was stolen. A short time afterward he received information from some source that there was a suspected band of horse thieves in town, and finding them he might find his pony. Without a warrant or any authority Owens commenced to hunt for those horse thieves. As a matter of fact, Owens ran the town and when on a drunken carousal he ran that pony up and down the streets everybody ran to cover as they do today for the auto speeders. Owens believed that he might get track of the horse stealers by going to a saloon on the Peninsula kept by a Sydney Duck named Russell. There he found a suspicious character named Wilson. Owens and his friends took Wilson to a gallows near by, hoping to intimidate him into making a confession of guilt or informing them regarding his companions. The sight of the gallows failed to have any effect on the prisoner. Then they tried another police "third degree" method. They stripped him to the waist and whipped him severely, but the man, sullen of nature and deep in crime, spoke not a word. Then a rope was fastened around. his neck, and he was quickly hauled off his feet two or three times, and then begging to be released he promised to show the men the rendezvous of his companions. He led the party to a heavy growth of bushes near the present corner of Park and San Joaquin streets where their camp, hidden from view, was located. There was no one there, but waiting around a short time four men named Frederick Salkman, James Nell, Jasper Cochrane and James Boland came into camp. The party was questioned, but giving no satisfactory answers, one of them was seized and whipped. He then made a confession and said they were all horse thieves.
The men were taken to jail, and with them James Wilson. On the following day they were taken before Justice W. F. Nye for a preliminary examination. There was a large crowd in the court room, the sympathizing friends of Bill Owens who had lost his pony. Evidence was introduced which pointed strongly to the guilt of the men as horse thieves. Owens then addressed the crowd, declared them guilty, and moved "that we hang them." The motion was seconded by Dr. Samuel McLean, one of the most honorable men in the county. He was no friend of Owens, but very excitable and erratic, he was for law and order, at any cost. No sooner had McLean made his motion than bedlam broke loose. At least fifty knives and pistols flashed in air and the city marshal, the recorder and the deputies were seized and held by the crowd. Overturning chairs and tables the mob tried to seize the prisoners. Boland, who was a large and strongly built man, fought his way to the door and, escaping, ran towards the Levee. He was followed by the crowd whooping and yelling, and Owens, swifter of foot than Boland, rapidly decreasing the distance between them, fired five shots at him. Boland then surrendered. The men were all taken to jail, followed by the crowd. So eager were the mob for blood that they shouted, "Hang them ! hang them !" and the officers had great difficulty in rescuing the men, for the mob tore the clothes from their backs, exposing the skin which had been lacerated by the lashing which two of them received. The sheriff, Dr. R. P. Ashe, addressed the mob, begging them to disperse and let the law take its course.
Russell, the Sydney Duck
Soon after this event, the Bill Owens gang concluded to give Russell, the low dive saloon-keeper, the experience of mob law. They proceeded to do this by the usual mob law manner. They organized what they called a "mustang court," selected a sheriff; Captain Chapman, and a prosecuting attorney, Captain Bell. The sheriff was sent out to bring in Russell, who had been accused of keeping a low resort and boarding house with his wife, and harboring thieves. Russell when brought into court was informed by his Honor, Judge Owens, that what he had to say in his defense should be said quickly and to the point. Russell stated that he had been in Stockton a few weeks and he did not know that his boarders were thieves. He came to this country to make money honestly. At this moment of the court the judge inquired, "Has the jury been polled?" A bystander answered by saying, "I think there is timber enough in me and this crowd without any polls. I move that Russell be ducked in the slough." The mob did not wait for any second to the motion, but seizing the victim they hastened to the channel and threw him in. He swam back to land, and grabbing him again, threw him in a second time. After he got out he was taken back to the court and sentenced to be given thirty lashes on the back. The sentence was carried out and Russell was given sixteen hours in which to leave town.
Vigilance Committee
Rough punishment this was for a suspected criminal, but harsh and cruel punishment were necessary to check the high tide of crime. The execution of one Jenkins at this time, by the San Francisco Vigilance Committee for the stealing of a safe, caused an exodus of criminals from that town. Some of them floated to Stockton, and to meet the occasion the citizens formed a Vigilance Committee. A meeting was held on the evening of June 9, 1851, "to take into consideration measures to insure the better security of the lives and property of the citizens." A committee was appointed to recommend a course of action. This committee reported June 11, advising the formation of a vigilance city police, that the city he divided into wards, each ward to have its guards at night and that a committee be appointed to enroll the names of citizens. The following evening a meeting was held in the Corinthian Building and elected Major R. P. Hammond president; in his address he opposed the actions of the committee and declared the matter should be left to the action of the council ; that they be requested to divide the city into wards, as they were elected by the citizens and represented their interests. J. M. Warner declared they should not wait for the council's action; the "Sydney Ducks" might destroy the town before they woke up. Dr. George Shurtleff also called for action, and suggested that twenty gentlemen be appointed to divide the city into wards and to petition the council to clothe the police with the necessary authority. A ward division was made as follows: First Ward, west of El Dorado Street, extending from Stockton to Mormon Channel; Second Ward, east of El Dorado Street to American between the two named channels; Third Ward, the south side of the Stockton Channel and Weber Avenue to American; and the Fourth Ward included the Peninsula and the blocks on the east side of Channel to American. The First Ward, led by Dr. Samuel McLean, was the only ward that acquired any speed or was reported. On the 18th they met at the Gault House, organized a citizens' police and elected Samuel McLean chief of police, with full power to detail citizens for a nightly patrol of the ward.
Transcribed by Kathy Sedler