Tuolumne County, CA History

Transcribed by Kathy Sedler

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A History of Tuolumne County, California - San Francisco, B.F. Alley, 1882.
 
The Fandango.
        There are some classes of subjects which the sober historian, intent 
only upon presenting a plain and concise account of events to his future 
readers, finds difficulty in approaching in a seemly manner. The historical 
style, unbending to the lighter descriptions of comparatively trivial affairs, 
does not readily adapt itself to the uses of the writer who would fain employ 
his pen to interest the mind in its time of relaxation, arousing the merriment 
or enchaining the sympathies of the curious reader. But the fact remains that 
there are scattered throughout the immense mass of printed matter which deals 
with the records of this county (as with the common history of every mining 
community in this land) a large number of interesting and often valuable 
reminiscences, mostly personal, and dealing oftentimes with individuals of 
prominence, that deserve and well would repay publication. The mining camps have 
furnished, and will continue to furnish, a limitless field for the exertions of 
the humorous writer. They were, and are, rich in pathetic incidents, and the 
names of those who have drawn upon this inexhaustible storehouse of wit, humor 
and pathos, are fresh in the minds of the English speaking world. But jokes, 
stories and pathetic scenes, it may be said, are not suitable materials for use 
in a book like this; nor is it the intention of the writer to include such in an 
undue degree, nor to give prominence to any subject outside the domain of the 
judicious narrator of facts. But there are subjects akin to the lighter walks of 
literature, of which a regard for the completeness of the historical picture 
compels mention. With so much of apology for straying from the narrow and 
well-beaten paths of history, a consideration of the memorable institution of 
the Fandango is appended.
        Born in the mystic past, so far back, perhaps, that the time and place 
have been forgotten; ancient, so ancient that, like the pyramids, it has seemed 
old even at the remotest epochs; perhaps even instituted in the Garden of Eden, 
suggested by the thought that the clothing of that date was, perhaps, aptly 
suited to the rise of the Fandango; nurtured in the warmer torrid regions, and 
penetrating northward, it found its chosen habitat, at last, in Spain. Crossing 
thence to Mexico with the gallant Cortez and his devoted band of heroic thieves 
and murderers, it came into fashion in that land of tortillas and frijoles, and 
taking on additional properties, it thrived apace among aristocratic hidalgos 
and lowly peons. The solace of the poor child of oppression, creeping forth at 
night from his mud hovel, the resort of the brigand whose time was given up half 
to robbery, half to love, it also served to while away the waking hours of the 
grandee whose herds browsed upon a thousand hills.
        The national institution of a country whose people spread themselves 
over California, the Fandango, hither came, with all the concomitants of Señor, 
Señora, guitarra, enchilada and tomal, taking rank from the first as important 
in the public estimation, hardly equaled by the more athletic but less seductive 
bull-fight—twin spectacle; gross pleasure, cruel torture. Wherever the lazo was 
thrown, or the cigarito smoked, not far away throve the Fandango, in greater or 
lesser majesty.     Taking on importance from the reckless prodigal support of 
the burly, red-shirted American miner, to whom gold was but as the dust moved by 
the idle wind, the new importation waxed strong, furnishing an amusement not out 
of keeping with the men of that time. Its votaries were not alone the brutal and 
the ignorant, for many a son of pious training, many a respected grey-headed 
former resident of staid and moral Eastern communities, were found pursuing the 
lascivious pastime through the merry mazes of the dance, while even the cloth 
itself, as we are told, disclaimed not the seductive blandishments of the 
dark-hued syrens, daughters of Terpsichore, whose many twinkling feet and 
far-extending and lavishly displayed charms lent enchantment to the views of men 
in whom the hot blood of youth beat, untempered by any very severe asceticism.
        Spreading wide their portals for the motley train, the Fandango house 
flourished, the arbiter of pleasure and of play. There the tinkling guitar, with 
soft, lascivious strain, kept time to the song from Italy, the step from France. 
The midnight orgy, the mazy dance, the smile of beauty and the flush of strong 
drink, for fools, gamesters and all, combined to energize the subject they 
pursued, giving both the devil and his dance their due, where fools' paradise 
might seem dull to what there passed through the fleeting hours of night.
        Various were the different styles of Fandangoes; improving upon the 
unfastidiousness of their Mexican cousins. Sonora boasted among her five houses 
devoted to this species of entertainment, of a palatial center, wherein all that 
art and elegance might do was brought to their aid. In stylish and brilliantly 
lighted room, girt around and ornamented with priceless pictures, costly 
furniture, and lined with Venetian mirrors, to reflect back the scenes they 
witnessed, and provided with a bar, from whence the costliest liquors, the 
rarest wines, were dealt out with unsparing hand, grew the American edition of 
the Fandango in all its glory. There F ―a, in all her youthful elegance and 
fashion, shone upon the gaze of wondering men, S ― F ― and E ―  D ― , then 
infants in her arms. The polka is being done up in the style Parisian. There is 
a sort of Gallic fraternization about it that leaves the unsophisticated 
beholder in doubt, like the citizen before the artist's picture, which is 
t'other.
        But this Fandango is not the Fandango in its unsullied purity; for that, 
one must search further up Washington street, for the genuine article exists on 
the lot behind the "Long Tom," uncontaminated by the elevating influences of 
modern French or American civilization. Long before one sees the flickering 
light that warns the wayfarer of its presence—as warns the mariner the 
lighthouse that denotes the sunken rock―break upon the organs of smell the 
startling evidences of its existence. In the simon-pure Fandango the air is 
stifling; oxygen, like virtue and all decency, has long before taken its flight. 
Upon the scene the tallow candles cast a feeble glare, and the smoke of 
cigaritos and cheap and bad cigars fills the room with a dim haziness. Through 
the murky gloom the dancers are moving with a perfect looseness, a crowd of man, 
spectators of the scene, line the sides of the apartment, while the perspiring 
guitarist and the catgut-torturing fiend of the violin lustily horrify the 
drowsy ear of night with uncouth sounds from their dyspeptic instruments. " 
Hands across!" " Back again!" "Aleman left!" break through the foggy, murky 
atmosphere from the corner where stands the director, rendering into discordant 
English the calls of the cotillion; and the heavy thud of the miners' nail-clad 
boots emphasizes the turns of each figure with double-shuffle, heel-and­ toe and 
pigeon-wing. With a twang of the strings and a parting rattle of boot heels the 
dance ceases abruptly, and each male participant, gringo or caballero, leads his 
fair partner to the bar, to refresh her delicate nerves with a glass of brandy 
and water—a custom religiously adhered to at the conclusion of each dance, that 
" steam " may be kept up to the proper pitch.
        In the crowd about there are mingled the extremes of cosmopolitan 
society. Every race under the sun seems to have sent its representative to honor 
the Fandango. On either side sit swarthy, filthy, vermin-infested greasers, 
wrapped in dirty serape, and puffing cigaritos with imperturbable nonchalance. 
The Sydney convict, with under-hung jaw and furtive grimace, comes next, 
elbowing perfumed gentlemen in broadcloth, titled with Major, Colonel, Judge, or 
Alderman. In corners lounge handsomely dressed young gentlemen, having the 
appearance of clerks in mercantile houses. Sporting men are also there to assist 
in the display of animated nature ; and physicians and lawyers, the victims of 
clients and patients, or of hereditary laziness. The senoras, of brown 
complexion, of scanty habiliments, of plumptitudinous figure, urge on the merry 
rounds until the wee small hours approaching tell of expiring night; then 
homeward, not unguarded, under the gleams of Venus' star, hasten, with not 
reluctant feet, to silence and repose.
        For a respectable town with high pretensions to good. character, 
doubtless Columbia enjoyed as much excitement and commotion through Fandangoes 
as any place else. From the earlier days, the authorities of that city, with a 
feeling more nice than wise, attempted to patch up laws which were imagined to 
be suitable to the time and place, tending, as was thought, to throw an 
atmosphere of gentility around her institutions which was entirely foreign to 
the nature of the concern, and quite opposite to its spirit. As well might it 
have been attempted to impart a high degree of delicacy to a bull fight, as, 
through municipal regulations and enactments, licenses, and the watchful care of 
officials, ward off or prevent the natural consequences that flowed from 
Fandangoes.
        The first Board of Trustees, in a formidable onslaught on the enemy, 
interdicted the use of drums and trombones, and the sweet sounds necessary for 
the measures of the giddy dance were prescribed to issue from the dulcet flute, 
the neighborly piano, the effeminate guitar, the agile violin. Thus did the 
first reform savor of peace and gentility. Died away the warlike roll of the 
drum, and the brassy voice of the trombone ceased from out the land. The law was 
triumphant; and save the wakeful cat, the hilarious he who runs amuck, and the 
watchful chanticleer, no sounds there were to break the dreams of the softly 
sleeping citizen. No more were the delicate nerves of valetudinarians to be 
shocked by the blare and crash of a regular fandango band in full blast. Next, 
fandangoes were ordered and directed to go out of operation upon Sundays, that 
they might no longer offend the day devoted to quiet, to repose, and the 
discharge of grateful duties for the manifold blessings enjoyed by man. This, 
the second measure of reform, partook of morality, and gave great satisfaction 
to the small but select portion of Columbia's denizens with whom a godly seeming 
was a desideratum At a later date, midnight was also fixed as the hour of 
closing fandango performances, a law being arranged to meet this requirement. 
This, the third measure of reform, partook of quietude, of temperate indulgence. 
Thus, through the law, there were gentility, morals and temperance arrayed 
against the powers of darkness, in the guise of Fandango ladies, Fandango 
keepers and Fandango sharps.
        These patchings, however, did not exactly serve the desired purpose; a 
Fandango, even if debarred of some of its historical properties and curbed of 
its full effect, was still a Fandango, and the later town authorities determined 
to hedge it around so as to prevent its spread, as an infectious disease is 
sometimes surrounded. They resolved, therefore, that but one establishment 
devoted to Fandango should exist within the corporate limits, and that one 
should be licensed and protected; which was as reasonable as declaring that 
there should be but one saloon, one grocery, one sausage mill. Later still, 
these town officers were seen recognizing two establishments, upon which a 
tribute of an enormous sum was laid for the privilege of keeping open. These and 
other ordinances were passed by them; but, despite the law, despite the 
shiftings and turnings of town officials, despite the old and new measures of 
gentility, of temperance and of morals, the institution remained, curbed and 
shorn of its original proportions, but still the Fandango as of yore. And the 
subject of abolishing them was never openly met, because the evil, if it be one, 
received the support of the great mass of the toilers, the power that always 
settles such questions.
Noted Robbers and Robberies.
        No history of Tuolumne county would be complete without a reference to 
such noted robbers and highwaymen as Joaquin Murietta, Tom Bell and other 
celebrities, who have in times past graced this region by their presence. 
Neither Joaquin nor Bell performed most of their desperate exploits within the 
limits of this county, but the former's existence was pretty closely identified 
with affairs in these mines, and as such it is proper that some space should be 
reserved herein for his adventures.
        Almost the only authentic data which relate to the life of this 
desperado are only to be gathered by word of mouth from those living residents 
of the Southern Mines who knew Joaquin and watched his career. Of these, 
probably Hon. Caleb Dorsey, of Sonora, is best qualified to supply facts 
relating thereto, as he was, through a remarkable chain of events, brought into 
close relations with the noted robber and his band. Time and romance have thrown 
such a glamour around the chief's exploits and adventures that almost no 
dependence can be placed upon the multitude of stories concerning them, which 
have gone the rounds of the press. Of all the mass of so-called recollections of 
the man who was at the time the terror of the mines, scarcely a thing has been 
said that does not partake of the grossest exaggeration. To begin with, the 
story of the outrage upon his wife by Americans, and Joaquin's consequent oath 
of undying hatred toward his enemies and all their race, is, most likely, 
untrue.
        Again, a great part of the affected chivalry and regard for their word, 
of Joaquin and his gang, is, as might be expected, a gross exaggeration, worthy 
of the minds of those who concoct ten-cent novels and New York Weekly stories. 
No doubt that Joaquin did evince on one or more occasions a decent respect for 
the laws of humanity and a regard for truth that was becoming, to say the least; 
but why, if a vulgar thief and jail-bird tells the truth once, as a relief to a 
long series of lies, and refrains from murdering a boy or an old woman when his 
hands are stained with man's blood, why should these not remarkable 
circumstances be made to shed a halo about his memory when his rascally and 
unprovoked deeds should consign him to everlasting infamy ? They deserve blame 
who regard Joaquin Murietta, or any other thief and murderer, in any other light 
than as a vulgar, despicable criminal, who took life because his own bad 
passions impelled him. That it is and has been the fashion to hold up to public 
applause and reverence the worst characters, the most reckless and culpable 
law-breakers, there is no doubt. And that the influence of one man's guilty 
career, when glossed over, and its moral perverted by the arts of the writer, is 
bad, deplorably bad, there is the evidence of prisons and reformatories to 
prove, filled to overflowing with humanity whose instincts and moral sense have 
been perverted by trashy works of fiction, whose object is to make interesting 
and. attractive that which in its naked deformity is repulsive.
        The definite and positive information which can now be gathered of 
Joaquin Murietta represents him to have been a resident of Martinez, near Saw 
Mill Flat, in the early part of 1852. Previous to this his history is not known 
in the least, unless it be so to his own countrymen, the Mexicans. At that time 
he had not commenced his career of open robbery, but was addicted to a more 
underhanded kind of thievery, that is to say, he was a monte dealer; and in 
company with a number of other scamps, engaged with him in the business of 
fleecing his fellow countrymen and such low trash of other nationalities whose 
tastes and ignorance led them into the sharpers' clutches. Graduating from this 
trivial occupation to the more exciting and probably more lucrative one of 
footpad, or in more magnificent language, highwayman, Joaquin and his band 
comraided several outrages in that neighborhood, and being tacitly supported by 
the entire Mexican population, then very large, he easily evaded arrest. The 
sympathies of his countrymen were with him throughout his infamous career, as 
too often they have been with thieves, robbers and brigands. For a time a state 
of affairs existed in Tuolumne County which has had no parallel in the United 
States since, unless it be the affair of the James boys, in the Mississippi 
Valley. The officers of the law were put in defiance, the authorities were 
powerless, and even a display of military force was insufficient to overawe the 
outlaws. More than once, even after a price was set upon his head, Joaquin 
entered the camps where people were in arms against him, and once was even said 
to have entered a saloon in Sonora, and leaping upon a table, to have proclaimed 
himself as the famous bandit; and then coolly springing down, to have passed out 
from the midst of his enemies, and escaped on horseback, unscathed. But whether 
this story, widely told and almost universally credited as it is, is true or 
not, is one of those things that, as Dundreary says, " No fellow can find out." 
Nor is it alone in being so. The history of Tuolumne County in its entirety, has 
had to be sifted from among stories which bear the stamp of exaggeration, or of 
entire untruth; or else like the above, are doubtful.
        It is pleasant to return from delving in the maze of wild stories and 
improbable narrations, to the lucid, plain and logical account of Mr. Dorsey, 
concerning the cause and results of the somewhat noted " Battle of Saw Mill 
Flat;" and that the reader may share in the pleasure, the gentleman's own words 
are reproduced as far as possible. Mr. D. was engaged in the summer of 1853 in 
lumbering on the Flat, being a partner in the firm of Dorsey, Jacobs and Smith, 
owners of a saw-mill, one of the two then in existence there, the other one 
being the property of Messrs. Turner, Bennett and Stacy. Ira McCrae, a prominent 
man, kept a store on the Flat, and was a buyer of gold-dust, as a part of his 
mercantile affairs. For several days Messrs. Dorsey, McCrae and others had been 
meditating the capture of Joaquin, who still maintained his headquarters at 
Martinez, near by. Finally word was brought that the individual was at a 
fandango which was running. Without loss of time the before mentioned gentlemen 
proceeded to the house, and entering, ordered the music to cease. No resistance 
was made to their commands, but upon questioning the dancers, every one denied 
that the man was present, or that he had been there. " He was," they said, " 
most probably many miles away." Mr. Dorsey fell into conversation with an 
ordinary looking Mexican, upon the subject of Joaquin's whereabouts, and was 
informed with the most charming innocence that it was very foolish to attempt to 
arrest the brigand, as he would never be taken alive. To this the reply was made 
that it did not matter how he was taken, alive or dead, for the Americans were 
bound to have him in some shape or other; after which the seekers took their 
departure. No doubt the expedition were intensely surprised and a good deal 
discomfited when, on their return to the Flat, they were informed that the very 
man who held Mr. D. in conversation was Joaquin himself! Shortly after, an 
attempt was made to destroy the lives of many persons, by poisoning the waters 
of the spring which furnished a supply of water to a portion of the residents of 
Saw Mill, but this failed, owing to the extreme diffusion of the drug that was 
used. This incident, well attested as it is, will show clearly how much of 
magnanimity and generosity there was in the robbers. To poison unsuspecting men 
is not like the heroic soul that some have professed to believe Joaquin to be.
        Immediately after this episode, it became known that Messrs. Dorsey, 
McRae and Turner had become marked by the outlaws, and that their death had been 
resolved upon. Such information could not fail to act upon the minds of any men; 
and one of the trio, Mr. Turner, did actually seek safety in another and less 
dangerous locality. The others, not daunted, remained at their customary 
occupations, but doubtless went " heeled" for any sudden emergency.
        The next sensation came from the report that McRae's store was to be 
robbed on that very night. A. messenger rode to Columbia in haste, and the 
military company of that place was collected, and it immediately set out for the 
scene of the expected hostilities. Revolvers and rifles had been cleaned and 
loaded, their hats decorated with patriotic feathers, and the little brass 
cannon, used for doing service on great days in firing salutes, was brought 
along. Firing the little two-inch cannon about once in every hundred yards, the 
command finally arrived at their destination, Col. Toni Cazneau in command. It 
was soon seen that this imposing force would be of no use, for no attack was 
made, nor was any seriously meditated. The military, however, gave a good 
example of their destructive powers by charging upon the eatables and the 
drinkables, completely cleaning out the small supply of both that was then held 
at the Flat, and rendering it ever since a doubtful question whether it wouldn't 
have been better to be robbed by Joaquin's men than to be protected by 
Cazneau's.
        Thus far Mr. Dorsey had been recognized by the outlaws as a principal 
enemy, and so regarding him, it would have been almost certain death had he been 
surprised by them with the odds against him; but now occurred a series of 
incidents that transformed their enmity into toleration; and Mr. D.'s account of 
these runs as follows:
        While prospecting for gold on the North Fork of the Stanislaus in 
company with several friends, it became necessary for Mr. D. to return suddenly 
to Sonora. Starting sufficiently early in the day, he would have got through to 
town on the same evening, had it not been that while crossing the hill above the 
South Fork, he became uncertain of his way, and fearing to descend the hill lest 
the ground become impassable, he dismounted and made preparations to camp at a 
spring near by. After getting comfortably fixed for the night, a gang of six 
Mexicans rode up and also made preparations to pass the night. After cooking 
supper, they called Mr. Dorsey to share their repast, which, being concluded, 
songs were sung before the party retired to rest. In the singing, as their 
suspicious visitor noticed, a certain one-eyed man took the lead. This 
observation, it will be seen, has an important bearing on what followed. 
Retiring to his own ground, Mr. Dorsey slept the sleep of the tired, even in the 
midst of danger; for it was well known to him that he was regarded as an 
especial enemy by the Mexicans; but he had reason to hope that these people did 
not know him, even if they were of the outlaws, as he surmised. His intuitions 
were correct; for, when morning dawned, the Mexicans arose, prepared breakfast, 
and again invited their neighbor to partake with them, and this invitation, as 
the other, was accepted, as the guest did not think it prudent to decline. After 
doing justice to the viands, all were about to ride off, when the leader of the 
band, calling Mr. Dorsey aside, demanded sternly of him, under pain of death, 
that he give his word of honor not to divulge the fact that he had met them 
under the circumstances, it is no wonder that the gentleman did as requested. 
Subsequently he learned that his entertainers were indeed a portion of Joaquin's 
band, and their mission on that trip had been to steal horses.
        This novel experience was followed by an equally novel one, but one in 
which the element of danger was lacking. A Mexican charged with stealing horses 
was incarcerated in jail in Sonora. Demanding counsel, Mr. Dorsey was sent for 
by the attendants. Upon entering the jail, the prisoner proved to be no other 
than the one-eyed musician of the previous paragraph. He, perhaps even more 
surprised than Mr. Dorsey, explained the estimation in which the latter was held 
by his compatriots, and solemnly announced that if they had known him on the 
night of the meeting at South Fork, they would have shot him to strings. Now, 
however, the case was reversed; and Mr. Dorsey, while agreeing to defend the 
criminal and use his utmost exertions to free him, received in turn a promise 
that he should not in future receive harm from the outlaws. This, the prisoner 
said he would prevail on Joaquin to sanction. The result was, that, while Mr. 
Dorsey lived unmolested by the bandits, the prisoner—through the representations 
made to the Grand Jury in regard to the situation of Messrs. Dorsey and McRae 
with reference to the gang, and their promise not to carry out their threats of 
vengeance—escaped indictment.
        Later on, an affray occurred at Sawmill Flat, which resulted in the 
wounding of Claudio, Joaquin's lieutenant.  It seems that a Mexican had been 
detected in stealing a pistol, and while Constable John Leary of Columbia was 
attempting to make his arrest, several Mexicans rushed to their companion's 
assistance. Joaquin himself took a hand in the fight, and, although shot at 
repeatedly, made his escape. Not so fortunate was Claudio. This person, who was 
a mere youth of eighteen or so, was very badly wounded. Lying upon the top of a 
hill up which his pursuers had to advance, he emptied his two six-shooters at 
them before they could reach the spot. Advancing with cocked pistol, the 
Constable was about to blow the youth's brains out, when Mr. Dorsey interfered, 
saving his life. Badly wounded, Claudio was borne to the hospital, there to 
remain until his naturally strong constitution enabled him to recover from his 
dreadful injuries. While convalescent, he, in an interview with his preserver, 
corroborated what the one-eyed man had told concerning the oaths of vengeance 
taken by the band, but said that as the former culprit had got free, if they 
would undertake to secure his safety, he would see that those promises were 
carried out; at the same time promising Mr. Dorsey that the whole band should 
leave the county and go to Mexico, never to return.
        When asked on what security these promises were to be fulfilled, he 
answered proudly: " Sir, you have the word of honor of a highwayman !" which was 
pretty lofty language, considering the speaker.
        On sending for Joaquin to come in and sanction the treaty, that 
individual refused to honor Sonora by his presence, but assented to the 
arrangements which Claudio had made. And the Grand Jury proving facile, the 
young criminal escaped.
        Once again it was Mr. Dorsey's fortune to come in contact with the gang. 
This was while on his way to a session of Court in Mariposa County, when he fell 
in with and took dinner with Claudio and other members, at Moccasin Creek, where 
he found them encamped by the roadside. Claudio then represented that they were 
on their way to Mexico, and he took occasion to renew his promise of the present 
of a splendid horse and trappings to his guest in return for the favors done 
him. Leaving the camping place, Mr. D. proceeded up a steep hill, and on the way 
met a horseman magnificently mounted, whom he soon recognized as the redoubtable 
Joaquin himself. Both drew their pistols, and a conflict seemed imminent, when 
the Mexican, holding up his hand, cried out: "We keep our word; you are safe, 
sir!" And, reassured, the traveler passed on, having met the scourge of the 
mines for the last time. It was not long after that the notorious brigand fell 
by the hand of Captain Harry Love; and his head, which was exhibited in Sonora, 
was inspected by Mr. Dorsey, who knew him so well in life, and who, to silence 
the doubt which has been expressed as to the certainty of Joaquin's death, says 
now, unqualifiedly, that it was the head of the man whom he knew as Joaquin. So 
that matter rests.
        Lieutenant Claudio met a befitting fate upon the gallows, being hanged 
for horse-stealing, down in Los Angeles County. And if the grimness of the joke 
may be pardoned, Mr. Dorsey still expresses himself in doubt whether or not the 
horse which Claudio was trying to steal was not the " splendid animal with 
gorgeous trappings" that dashing young robber promised him while immured in jail 
in Sonora.
Murder of Bond by McCauley.
        The year 1856 was not comparable with the preceding year for the number 
and interest of its homicides, for but one occurred which was in any way 
noticeable among the great numbers of crimes of that nature which have 
transpired in this county. This case was the murder of Bond by McCauley, under 
circumstances of great atrocity, which are recorded as follows:
        Bond, the victim, resided at the Flat, where he followed the occupation 
of miner, and was a highly respected young man of unblemished character. His 
murderer, Edward McCauley, was a large, strong fellow, a rough of pronounced 
type, whose occupation, if he had any beyond quarreling and fighting, is not set 
down. Andrew J. Carr and Tom McCauley, his aiders and abettors in the murder, 
the latter his brother, were of precisely similar type. In the course of a trial 
for larceny, held in the Justice's Court at the Flat, Bond had been an important 
witness against the McCauleys, thereby incurring their bitterest enmity. The 
evidence given before the Coroner's jury, following the sad occurrence, was, in 
brief, to this effect: Bond was sitting with friends in a saloon in the village, 
when Ed. McCauley entered, and addressing Bond, said, "You swore rather hard 
against the boys last night." Bond answered—" I spoke the truth." McCauley 
rejoined that Bond was a liar, upon which the latter, seeing several persons 
around whom he judged to be ill-disposed to him, started to leave the room, but 
was met at the door by Carr, who pushed him backward into the room, and a 
scuffle ensued. Bond, excessively aggravated, drew his revolver and shot Carr, 
directly after which Ed. McCauley approached Bond from behind and stabbed him 
with a bowie-knife in the left side. Being released from his enemies, Bond 
started homewards, and reaching his cabin, died within ten minutes. Carr dying 
at nearly the same minute, his friends the assailants of Bond followed the 
latter to his cabin, shouting that they would " cut his heart out and lap his 
blood !"
        Rather slower than was usual in those days in raising a mob to lynch the 
murderers, Sonora was communicated with, and Sheriff Jim Stuart, with deputies 
Sedgwick and Cogswell, were quickly on the ground, preparing to resist the swarm 
of excited men who had now gathered around the house wherein the two prisoners 
were confined, they having submitted quietly to arrest by the proper officers as 
soon as the murmurs of the lynchers began to be heard. Sheriff Stuart made his 
preparations, and entering the building, placed himself on one side of Ed. 
McCauley, with Sedgwick on the other, and with the remainder of his force 
escorting the brother, the door at a given signal was thrown open and the 
officers rushed out. Severe resistance was made, but the suddenness of the onset 
deprived it of effect, and the officers gained their horses, taking their 
prisoners, still manacled, in safety to the County Jail. Just when leaving the 
Flat a shot was fired at the Sheriff, which came near terminating his existence; 
but no notice could be taken of it, and the party rapidly proceeded.
        The trial of these worthies excited the greatest interest. It ended in 
sentencing Tom McCauley to State's prison for ten years, while the more guilty 
Ed. was consigned to the gallows, meeting that merited fate on December 11, 
1857, in company with Lyons and Poer, the murderers of Blakesley, in that year, 
but which it is judged proper to now describe.
The Blakesley Murder.
        This occured at Lyons' Ranch, near Curtis' Creek, and about four miles 
from Sonora. The ranch was occupied by three brothers named Blakesley, who had 
purchased it from the former owner, a brother of Jim Lyons, of fighting memory, 
and who figured in the celebrated Lyons—Hazeltine—Duffield fight in the streets 
of Sonora, in 1854.
        The Blakesleys, or Blakelys, were sitting at supper in company with one 
Verplank, between the hours of six and seven P. M. Saturday, February 14, 1857, 
when they were fired upon from the outside of the window, and one of the 
brothers, John Blakely, was shot in the back. All instantly jumped to their 
feet, the light was blown out, and they fled for safety through the back door of 
the house into the wood beyond. John Blakely fell at the door; his brother 
William, lingering a moment to seize a rifle standing in the corner, saw a man, 
who entering the open front door, fired at him. This man he afterwards 
proclaimed to have been
E. F. Hunter, the Sonora attorney who figured in the shooting affair previously 
described. But this proved to have been a mistake, as Mr. Hunter with some 
difficulty showed. William Blakely was shot in the arm at that discharge, a very 
severe wound being inflicted, which necessitated amputation. The three survivors 
escaping, brought the news to Sonora.
        Immediately on receiving the intelligence, Sheriff Stuart repaired to 
the scene, finding that the house had been burned in the interim, and after some 
investigation, proceeded in company with Deputy Sheriff Sedgwick to Lyons' 
residence and arrested Lyons, Poer, and a young man named Wallace, whom they 
lodged in jail.
        Public suspicion was mainly aroused against these men, and after several 
days spent in jail Wallace was induced to confess the guilt of himself and of 
his accomplices. His story was that the crime was planned by Jim Lyons weeks 
before, and that he was made an accomplice through his fear of that man. Poer, 
he said, went into it willingly, out of mere recklessness. They left Lyons' 
residence on Friday night while it was storming, and traveled to the Blakeley's 
place and hid themselves in a cave, in which they remained all day Saturday. 
When night approached they left their place of concealment and approached the 
house. Lyons had planned that all three of the brothers should be killed, so as 
to leave no one to tell the tale. Mr. Verplank's life was not plotted against, 
as his presence was unknown. Lyons and Poer were to fire into the house from the 
front through the door and window, while Wallace was to station himself in the 
rear of the building and shoot down whoever attempted to escape. Lyons, carrying 
out his part of the plan, fired, killing John Blakeley, as narrated. Then Poer 
opened the door and entered, firing on William Blakeley, but Wallace who stood 
at the back door, fired his rifle in the air, when the attacked men came out.
        Immediately when this confession reached the ears of the officers, they 
became convinced that to the Lyons brothers belonged the credit of having 
committed several other assassinations whose perpetrators had not been 
discovered. No less than four men had met their death in mysterious ways, in the 
vicinity of their abode. These were Slater, a neighbor of Jim Lyons, and who was 
killed on the latter's land; Stanley, Lyon's partner, killed while working at a 
carpenter's bench; a poor Frenchman living in Sonora, who was killed while 
hunting birds on the same ground; and lastly, an ice teamster who was shot while 
on his wagon. The verdict of the Coroner's Jury was that the deceased's name was 
John Blakeley; twenty-nine years of age; born in New York, and that he was 
murdered by Lyons and Poer.
        In the following July they were brought to trial in the District Court, 
Judge Creaner presiding, and the evidence being such as to conclusively fix the 
guilt upon them, the verdict of murder in the first degree was entered against 
them.
        On the eleventh of December, 1857, the final sentence of the law was 
executed upon Lyons, Poer and McCauley. Leaving the jail about noon, under 
escort of the Mounted Corps, of Columbia, the " Greys," of Sonora, and the Saw 
Mill Flat Infantry, they were conveyed to the place of death followed by an 
immense concourse of people numbering perhaps five thousand. The execution 
passed off in the ordinary way in which such scenes were usually conducted, and 
there seems nothing deserving extended mention in connection with it except that 
McCauley shouted just before being turned off, " I am going to die game, by 
God!"
        This triple execution was the second hanging which took place during 
1857. In June previous, a man named William V. Davis was executed at Sonora for 
the murder of a Chinaman, near Tuttletown. Obtaining a respite a few days before 
the time set for execution, the prisoner narrowly escaped lynching at the hands 
of the fearfully excited mob, whose feelings were heightened by the news that 
McCauley had also obtained a delay in his case. At this time the County Jail was 
crowded with prisoners accused of high crimes, of whom some half dozen were 
suspected, or convicted murderers. Crowds of angry citizens thronged to the 
jail, demanding that these men should be immediately brought forth for the 
punishment due to their crimes, but thanks to the firmness of Sheriff Stewart, 
and the able support of his assistants, an outbreak was prevented which would 
have shed disgrace upon the county.
        With the execution of Lyons, Poer and McCauley, eight men had so far 
paid the forfeit for their crimes with their lives in Sonora—two by mob-law, and 
six by legal process.
Columbia in 1857.
        During the year 1856, and most likely at the beginning of it, a 
considerable amount of talk was expended in agitating the question of the 
division of Tuolumne into two separate counties—the northern portion to be 
detached and formed into a county whose seat should be Columbia. This 
proposition met with considerable support in that town for obvious reasons, but 
as there seemed no plausible excuse for such action other than the desire of 
politicians to form new offices which they might control, the matter was soon 
dropped, soon passing from the public mind.
        Columbia's second great fire occurred on August 25, 1857, and even 
exceeded the terrible conflagration of '54, in extent of damage. Breaking out in 
a Chinese dwelling on the north side of Jackson street, the flames could not be 
stayed, and within a very short time the whole northern part of the town was 
burned. The burnt district was comprised within the space between Pacific street 
on the north, Columbia street on the east, Main Gulch on the south, and bounded 
west by the west side of Broadway. Buildings which were supposed to have been 
fire-proof, disappeared like magic, shaking faith in brick walls.
        During the fire a most fearful incident occurred: this was the explosion 
of a large quantity of gunpowder in the store of H. N. Brown, resulting in the 
instant death of five men, H. N. Brown, William Toomey, J. M. B. Crooks, Dennis 
Driscoll, and. Captain Rudolph, and the serious injury of several others.
        The well organized and efficient fire companies of Columbia, together 
with assistance from Sonora, did excellent service in saving property, until the 
water in the hydrants gave out, rendering their services useless.
        The principal losses on this occasion were the following:  I. Shotwell, 
$20,000; White and Wing, 18,000; J. A. Jackson, 13,000; Neal & Co., 8,000; P. G. 
Ferguson, 8,000; Donnell & Parsons, 20,000; H. N. Brown & Co., 25,000; William 
Daegener, (American Hotel), 8,000; C. Cardinell, (Terpsichore Hall), 13,000; 
Northrup & Marshall, 7,000; Colombo Restaurant, 5,000; Tim Lewis, 6,000; B. 
Harrison, 6,000; O. P. Davis, 6,000; W. Wheeler, 5,000; I. Levy & Co., 15,000; 
Leavitt & Walker, 18,000; Dominique, 6,000; Mengendic, 20,000; C. H. Alberding, 
10,000; Raspail, 10,000; Claverrie, 10,000; Geo. Morgan, 6,000; John Leary's 
Theatre, 4,000; Odd Fellows' Hall, 4,000; Chinese stores, 25,000. Together with 
minor losses, the total footed up a round half million of dollars.
        Columbia was emphatically down; but she did not long remain down, for 
with an energy worthy of the early times, she proceeded to eradicate the traces 
of the fire. Brick buildings to take the places of frame ones, were commenced, 
and an air of bustle pervaded the place. From Sotrr & Marshall's corner, on 
Fulton street, up to Hilderbrand's bakery, a new and entire row of brick 
buildings were planned to fill the void. From the Post Office to Brown's store a 
range of fire-proof buildings were erected. Really elegant structures these 
were, that now remain to grace the town at a later day.
        The Town Trustees issued an order changing the grades of sidewalks and 
streets. Heavy teams constantly arrived loaded with goods for the new openings. 
The sound of the hammer rang out pleasantly, from daybreak until the close of 
day; and Columbia was soon an almost entirely new city, exulting in the hope of 
a prosperous future. It does not seem that the fire was an actual detriment. At 
least it did not detract from the enterprise of the citizens, but on the 
contrary stimulated it, for the newspapers of the succeeding months report a 
period of activity and. energy far in excess of the two or three preceding 
years.
        Shortly after the fire the Trustees took action against the Chinese 
element, debarring them from residing within the corporate limits of Columbia, 
and passed an order that it be the duty of the Town Marshal to notify those 
occupying tenements to remove at once. And furthermore, all Chinese refusing to 
remove were to be proceeded against as public nuisances, dangerous to the safety 
of the town, and injurious to the good character and public name of the 
corporation. The penalty attached to a violation of this order, for each 
offence, was a fine of not less than fifty, nor more than one hundred dollars.
        One of the more pretentious structures which grew up after the fire was 
Cardinell's Theatre. It will be remembered that John Leary had erected in 1854 a 
so-called theatre in Columbia, but which, in the late fire, had been destroyed, 
giving place to the larger structure of Cardinell. This building was of wood, 
but stone foundations were laid, and the outside walls were so arranged as to be 
renewable with stone or brick, when desired. The building was on Washington 
street, adjoining the Gillespie Block, and had a frontage of one hundred feet, 
with a depth of fifty. It was two stories in height, the lower portion to be 
occupied by stores, saloons, etc., while the theatre was in the second story. It 
contained a dress circle or gallery running around three sides of the room, and 
was arranged with nearly every advantage of a first-class theatre. The space 
between floor and ceiling was twenty feet, and the stage was thirty feet deep. 
The seats in the pit were removable, thus allowing the use of the auditorium as 
a ballroom on occasion, furnishing the largest dancing hall in the mines. The 
largest theatrical companies were or could have been accommodated with plenty of 
room and every facility for the production of pieces in a style never before 
possible in the mines.
        The next modern improvement which the growing importance of the town 
suggested was the introduction of lighting by gas. In the Tuolumne Courier of 
January 2, 1858, is to be found an account of the proceedings of the Company 
which introduced this valuable convenience.
        The gas-works were situated on Gold street, in the rear of the Broadway 
Hotel. The price of the illuminating material to consumers was fifteen cents per 
each burner for one evening; and in consideration of the privilege of laying 
mains through the streets, the Company agreed to furnish fifteen lights gratis 
to the city, besides lighting the churches, schools, and other public buildings. 
The street lamp-posts were to be of cedar, turned, and painted black. The 
account speaks of the work being pushed forward vigorously; but subsequent 
issues are dumb concerning gas, and it is only by personal recollection that it 
is ascertained that after several months' use, the works and the manufacture of 
gas were abandoned. The cause of the failure was the stoppage of the mains by 
the deposit of tar formed in the distillation of wood, which was used instead of 
coal, the material now in common use; added to which the light was of poor 
quality.
        Columbia was incorporated as a city on April 9, 1857, her boundaries 
being as follows: Commencing at a post near the Catholic Church and near the 
road leading to Springfield ; running thence north five eighths of a mile over 
the old Columbia Gulch, along the western slope of Gold Hill, to a post west of 
the Gold Spring Road; thence east five eighths of a mile to a post in Corral 
Gulch; thence south the same distance to a post on the hill towards Santiago; 
thence to the place of beginning.
        Under the new Act of Incorporation, the following officers were elected: 
For Trustees—A. C. Goodrich, Patrick Smith, B. C. Northrup, C. H. Parsons, and 
Sylvanus Pitts; for Marshal—Robert Mullan; for Treasurer—A. E. Hooker; for 
Assessor—J. A. Poor.
Murder of McDonald and Leary.
        Following next in the chronicles of Columbia's important events, came 
the murder of the above citizens, in November, 1858. On the 26th of that month 
Joel N. McDonald, previously a police officer in Stockton, but at that time a 
resident of Columbia, and who had been employed to ferret out certain desperate 
characters whose actions had been giving considerable alarm, was killed under 
these circumstances: McDonald had succeeded in ingratiating himself with the 
thieves, and had concerted and carried out with them the robbery of a cabin, and 
all were proceeding to McD.'s place of residence to divide the spoils, but 
perceiving a light in the house as they approached, the robbers became 
suspicious, and assaulted him, striking him first with a heavy iron, and then 
shooting him through the head, when they made their escape, leaving their victim 
lifeless.
        On the evening of the following Monday, another murder, quite as 
atrocious, was committed. Constable John Leary, a most respected and influential 
citizen, was murdered while in the discharge of his duty, no doubt by the same 
gang who were concerned in the other affair.
        Mr. Leary, with Marshal Mullan, was watching some suspected characters, 
and while endeavoring to detect and arrest them on Waldo street, Mr. Leary was 
killed, having, it is supposed, come upon them while they were engaged in 
robbing a drunken man, and at the moment of seizing one, received a heavy blow 
upon the forehead, which fractured his skull, while another shot him through the 
body, the ball passing near the heart. The murderers escaped, though fired upon 
by Mullan.
        Mr. Leary was one of the earliest settlers of Columbia, and was a most 
valuable officer and citizen. His death was universally lamented.
        The next day, two men, Harrison Morgan and Richard Wallace, were 
arrested on suspicion of the latter murder, and were taken to the jail at 
Sonora. Two days later, they were removed to Columbia, to be examined by 
Justices Letford, Dodge and Hopkins.
        Wallace confessed his complicity in the several robberies that had taken 
place, bat denied that he was concerned in the murder on Waldo street.
        Wallace's testimony, and that of the officers who made the arrests, was 
such as to produce a conviction of their certain guilt in the minds of all; and 
the Justices ordered the men to be remanded to the County Jail. The citizens 
were ordered to withdraw from within the bar, and the officers present, viz., 
Sheriff Sedgwick, Deputy McFarland, Marshal Mullan, Constables Parker and 
Faughman, and ex-officers Carder and Palmer, prepared to leave the Court room 
with the prisoners, by the back entrance, the Sheriff and Mullan leading 
Wallace, and McFarland and Parker leading Morgan. The people were in great 
numbers outside the Court, but no noise or commotion prevailed, and no 
difficulty seemed imminent, but as the party passed out a rush was made for both 
prisoners, the mob seizing the officers and holding them. Morgan was taken by 
the mob, but, by great efforts on the part of the officers, Wallace was 
preserved from the crowd and landed safely in jail in Sonora.
        Morgan's life was short. Taken up Broadway and along the Gold Springs 
Road to the flume, a rope was put around his neck, and without a moment for 
prayer, he was run up.
        There is a favorite incident in connection with this hanging which a 
decent regard for the feelings of the respectable gentlemen who have often and 
kindly narrated it will not permit the writer to leave out: " At nightfall, a 
China­man, with a basket of vegetables on his head, proceeding to Gold Springs, 
brought up all standing against the lifeless form of Morgan, which knocked off 
his load and nearly upset him. Looking up, the affrighted Celestial beheld with 
horror the pallid corpse, swinging to and fro in the night wind. He started off 
at a pace that made his pigtail assume a nearly horizontal position, and it is a 
matter of conjecture whether he has yet stopped."
        For the succeeding years, Columbia presents the appearance of a town 
gradually decaying with the decadence of her mines, and slowly sinking into the 
half-dead, half-living state which is the certain fate of every mining camp. Her 
glories, departing, have left but traces of the once prosperous and proud 
community whose history, replete with incidents, would, if fully written out, 
fill many a volume, and which would contain truths more marvelous than any 
fiction. It would tell how five thousand men through the long years brought all 
the resources of which man is capable to fill up their lives, while they sought 
for gold within the scope of vision of the proud "Gem of the Southern Mines." 
How they toiled, those who come after them can see. Casting an eve over the 
plains made desolate, the canons and gulches eroded to their very foundations, 
hills and elevations demolished, carried away piecemeal, that every particle of 
shining metal should come at length into the purses of the toilers, the mind 
reverts to the time when the waste was populous, when the solitude resounded to 
the blows of myriads, who came, toiled, died, and left the heritage of mines 
worked out, towns in decay, and forests devastated. The glories of her career 
passing from her, Columbia's decline commenced. Not much remains to tell of her 
history. Here and there through the succeeding years a few events worthy of 
remark took place. A fire in the Summer of 1861, which destroyed buildings and 
goods to the value of twenty-three thousand dollars; the bursting of W. O. 
Sleeper's bank, in July, 1865, with liabilities of fifty thousand dollars or 
such a matter, after a dozen years of success in a small way; a ditch dispute; 
an occasional shooting scrape, or robbery; sum up the short and simple annals of 
her later existence, where she but lives in the shadow of the mighty past.
Fire in Sonora in 1861.
        On the seventh of August of this year a fire occurred in Sonora, which 
resulted in a loss of about one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. This severe 
conflagration broke out in a house adjoining the Democratic Age office, corner 
of Washington and Yaney streets, involving the surrounding buildings, including 
the Placer Hotel across the street.
        The following were the principal losses: J. and F. Faxon, Great Eastern 
Saloon, $7,000; Lane & Randall, Union Saloon, $9,000; O. L. Bemis, Placer Hotel, 
$15,000; L. Quint, building corner of Washington and Yaney streets, $4,000; C. 
Burden, furniture and store, $5,000; J. Hall, $10,000; H. P. Barber, law 
library, $4,000; Severance & McLean, Sonora and Empire Livery Stables, $2,500; 
W. E. Carder, Democratic Age, $1,000; Union Democrat material and building, 
$1,500; Dr. W. T. Brown, dwelling house, $2,500; I. Selling, dry goods, $3,000; 
Geo. Bush, saddlery, $2,500; John Sedgwick, Fashion Livery Stable, $2,500; Dr. 
Manning, $3,000; Dr. King, drug store and stock, $2,000.
Murder of Judge Brunton.
        On December 2, 1860, the community was shocked by the news that Judge 
Thomas C. Brunton, an old and highly respected resident of Yorktown, had been 
murdered. The deed was discovered by Monsieur Pinchard of Sonora, and when 
examined the body was found to have received no less than ten wounds with a 
knife, three of which were each sufficient to have caused death. Besides the 
thrusts which caused these wounds, there were twelve others which had taken 
effect only in the clothes. The conclusion reached was that the old man had been 
reading some letters when attacked, and to have made a desperate resistance, for 
his heavy manzanita cane was found broken near by. He had last been seen about 8 
A. M., going in the direction where found.
        Judge Brunton had been a marked man for the assaults and outrages of 
villains ever since his settlement in. California. As already mentioned in this 
volume, he was robbed in 1855 of a large amount of money, which robbery gave 
rise to the Worth-Kittering murder. Subsequently other outrages were inflicted 
upon him, presumably by the same set of villains, who, at last, put him out of 
the way to ensure their safety. As remarked by several who remember these 
incidents, it was the most mysterious affair that ever took place within their 
knowledge. The poor old man was for years kept in a state of terror that would 
alone serve to speedily end his life, had not the guilty parties seen fit to 
interpose. Probably the mystery will never be unravelled, be the cause what it 
may, as a score of years has elapsed, and most of the prominent actors are 
doubtless dead.
Military and Political Affairs.
        During the war times political feeling rose to a considerable height in 
Tuolumne, though none of those unseemly scenes resulting in the loss of life or 
property, which were so common in other parts of the State, disgraced the 
county. The reason for this was doubtless the nearly equal strength of the peace 
and war parties. The enthusiasm of the people was perforce compelled to expend 
itself in the formation off companies of troops, and the forwarding of money and 
supplies to the Sanitary Commission.
        Several companies of volunteer troops, infantry and cavalry, were 
organized for service in the war, the history of whom is interesting. The first 
organized was the famous Tuolumne Rangers, who were recruited in Columbia and 
vicinity, and of whom many were well-known and respected citizens. The Rangers 
numbered at the time of their departure for service one hundred and nine men all 
told, and were officered thus:
        Captain, D. B. Aker; First Lieutenant, R. Daley; Second Lieutenant, S. 
R. Davis; Sergeants, J. L. Merriam, S. R. Marston and J. McCune. These troops, 
which were cavalry, were enlisted for service on the Overland Route, but going 
to San Francisco in September, 1861, they were stationed for a time at Camp 
Alert, forming a part of Colonel P. Edward Conner's Third Infantry Regiment, of 
California Volunteers, afterwards being transferred to Co. E, Second California 
Regiment of Cavalry.
        The Rangers did not take a very prominent part in the war, but rendered 
good service to the Government in keeping the Indians in order, being for a long 
time stationed in Humboldt County, on the coast of California, and for a portion 
of the years of 1862-3 at Red Bluff, Tehama County.
        In the Fall of '61 recruiting offices were opened in Sonora, several 
companies, independent organizations were formed, the object of some of whom was 
to proceed to the theatre of warfare and engage in the defence of the Union, 
while others were simply Home Guards, whose object was to restrain the acts and 
expressions of disloyal people.
        At the date mentioned Fred Faxon was engaged in organizing an artillery 
company, while James Lane, Esq., was recruiting a company of sappers and miners. 
Captain Watson organized a company of Home Guards, who used the arms and 
equipments of the old Sonora Greys. Don Pedro Lepi formed a company of Mexican 
Home Guards, forty-eight in number, and an infantry company was formed at 
Jamestown, and another at Severance's Old Mill, in the mountains.
        The Sigel Guard, of Sonora, organized in April, 1862, were Home Guards. 
Their officers were, H. K. White, Captain; S. B. Blaisdell, H. B. McNeil and J. 
C. Adams, Lieutenants; Theodore Lopez, K. McPherson and H. H. Sanford, 
Sergeants; W. S. Cooper, John Richardson, John Barry, D. O. McCarthy and Oliver 
Wolcott, Corporals. Armory in Street's building.
        Chinese Camp, too, had her military company, which was commanded by 
Captain W. H. Utter, with Lieutenants C. Mann, G. H. Fisher and Dan Vedder; 
Sergeants T. Cutler, Dr. Alex. Dawson, T. Pierman, W. T. Birdsall and Ben 
Lincoln; Corporals Offman, Powell, Goodwin and Stair, and forty-odd privates.
        In this connection mention of the " Tuolumne Home Guards," of Columbia, 
should not be omitted, who were organized in August, 1861, receiving uniforms 
and equipments from the Government, and fitting up for their exclusive use an 
armory in Nellis' building.
        So much for the military organizations. In regard to the contents of 
newspapers, it is to be observed that they were almost wholly given up to the 
discussion of political subjects and to war news, and to vilifying their 
neighbors. Probably no more violent, incendiary utterances ever emanated from 
any sheet than those which appeared in the weekly newspapers of Sonora, during 
the war times. Insolent, overbearing and abusive to the last degree, it is quite 
remarkable that their language did not lead to more frequent displays of 
personal violence. Judging by the columns of these periodicals, their writers 
were selected mainly in accordance with their power to blackguard and 
recriminate; and whole pages were filled with the choicest specimens of shrewdly 
concealed insinuations, or open defiance and bullying, that the brain of any 
newspaper writer ever inspired. It would prove interesting reading at this date, 
a resuscitation of articles in the old American Flag, or its Democratic 
opponents, but perhaps good fellowship and patriotism will be better subserved 
by allowing such matter to rest in its present quiescent state.
        On the other hand, the giving up of their space to unprofitable 
discussions of national affairs, and to the denunciation of political enemies, 
left the papers of that date lamentably bare of local news upon which the future 
reader might draw for the completion of his picture of the condition of affairs 
in the mines.
Decadence of the Southern Mines.
        Towards the end of the fifties, the Southern Mines had diminished so 
greatly in their output of the precious metal that the population began to 
decrease alarmingly. Instead of the thousands who worked in earlier years in the 
bed of the Tuolumne and the Stanislaus, but a few old miners and some Asiatics 
remained. Where in '55 hundreds delved in the plateau around Springfield and 
Columbia and Shaw's Flat, the small results scarce gave encouragement to the 
scores who had worked and reworked the ground that their predecessors had 
gathered ounces from, in the palmy days. The towns were in their decadence. 
Tumble-down houses, adobes falling to ruin in the rain; sidewalks rotted away; 
doors off of hinges, and windows the absence of whose lights indicated that the 
liver too was gone; all these signs showed the departed glory of the mines, and 
gave even more painful promise of a yet deader epoch. And that epoch came: by 
the end of the sixties but few placer claims were worked with good results; the 
enterprising gold-seekers had sought more productive fields; by the side of the 
Salmon River, or along the banks of the Gila and Colorado, or amid the cañons of 
Montana they resumed their tasks, finding, let it be hoped, the reward that 
their enterprise deserved.
        With the departure of the miners came dull times for the camps. The 
stores and saloons, no longer crowded with customers, put up their shutters and 
retired from a business no longer profitable. The professional gentlemen mostly 
withdrew from a country where there existed no demand for their services. The 
baker, the butcher, and the other tradesmen who ministered to the wants of an 
active population, sought in other and newer localities the golden harvest which 
had ceased in their former home.
        Ditches and flumes were suffered to go to ruin, and all the thousand and 
one evidences of man's energy and perseverance gave token of the day of departed 
greatness. By the close of the next decade the resounding crash of the stamp 
mill had well nigh ceased, and now, in 1882, while one can not say that mining 
is entirely done—for yet many valuable quartz veins and much unprospected placer 
ground, and miles of concealed auriferous riverbeds remain—yet gold extraction 
is comparatively at a painfully low ebb.
Later Events in Sonora.
        The latter years have not been prolific in history. On the contrary, 
there is a dearth of interesting matter strongly opposite to the times whose 
chronicles have already been set down. There is to be found one incident of a 
partly personal, partly political vendetta, that made once a great stir. That 
was the killing of Davis, alias Keiger, by McCarthy. This is its account, aside 
from doubts, from prejudices and uncertainties: Davis was a merchant, or other 
business man, who had resided perhaps a dozen years among the Sonorans. McCarthy 
was another business man, who had pursued the calling of a livery-stable keeper, 
and finally that of publisher of the American Flag, conducting that sheet in the 
war times, when its rabid Unionism drew upon it the violent opposition of all 
the opposing political party.     McCarthy counted his enemies as the hairs of 
his head, and of them Davis was one. It does not matter what insignificant 
affair their quarrel began in; it is enough to say that, after a season of 
newspaper denunciation, Davis suddenly met his death at his enemy's hands, the 
tragedy occurring in Steinmetz's restaurant, where McCarthy found his man 
dining. Whatever provocation was used by the deceased, it was thought sufficient 
to justify the act, for the assailant escaped the consequences of his act; and 
subsequent consideration seems to have decidedly leaned towards his 
justification.
        In December, 1865, occurred the burning of the County Jail, with the 
cremation of Tom Horn. This individual, represented as something of a rough, who 
hailed from Columbia, had entered Sonora in the progress of a drunken spree, and 
had been locked up. Shortly after, an alarm of fire was raised, and Mr. Mills, 
the Jailor, by the utmost exertions, was only enabled to remove the other 
prisoners from the burning building, leaving Horn, who was undoubtedly the 
incendiary, to perish in his own bonfire. The Jail, which was new, had cost the 
County thirteen thousand dollars, and was almost the only piece of property in 
her possession that was worth boasting of.
        Later on—in March, 1868—the United States Hotel at Sonora was burned, 
involving also the destruction of the Theater building adjacent, and the partial 
burning of the Episcopal Church near by. The hotel was situated near the head of 
Washington Street, on the ground now claimed for mining purposes by Mark Hughes, 
Esq., and was owned, together with the theater, by Mrs. Greenwood, widow of Otis 
Greenwood, once a prominent lawyer of the place. The buildings were unoccupied 
at the time, and were insured for two thousand dollars. The flames ignited the 
Episcopal Church, consuming the spire, belfry, the west side, and most of the 
roof, but were then stayed. This structure was insured for twenty-five hundred 
dollars.
        A year later still, or in March, 1867, the suicide of a Sonora merchant 
occurred to disturb the sluggish current of events. This was Selig Ritzwoller, a 
dry goods dealer, aged about forty years, and a native of Germany.
        In May, 1870, the " People's Accommodation and Express Company" was 
organized, as a move to secure cheaper fares to Stockton, the design being to 
run a line of stages from Sonora and Columbia to that city, the trips to be made 
in ten hours or less, and the price of a passage either way to be not over five 
dollars. The Trustees of the incorporation were Robert Boyd, D. McLean, M. E. 
Hughes, C. H. Randall and H. B. McLean, of Sonora, Thomas M. Byrnes, of 
Columbia, A. B. Preston, of Jamestown, George Hanna, of Chinese Camp, S. 
Dingley, of Knight's Ferry, Morris Magner, of Stockton, James G. Hughes, of 
Confidence, and James N. Berger, of Roach's Camp.
        For one year, or thereabouts, the organization kept to its purpose of 
reducing the fare, and by the month of June, 1871, the Stockton and Copperopolis 
Railway having been completed to Milton, the People's Company was dissolved.
        During this period it had been in competition with the stage-line of C. 
H. Sisson & Co.
        Previously, three lines, those of Fisher, Dillon and McLeod, had run 
lines of stages between those places, but through the decline in travel Fisher 
and McLeod were compelled to retire, while Dooley succeeded Dillon in the 
conduct of his business, and subsequently the firm of Sisson & Co. conducted 
their traffic unhampered by competition. In later years Shine & Co. alone have 
run the transportation lines of this region.
        In December of 1870, J. C. Scott was shot and severely wounded in the 
Riffle Saloon by Thomas Newton, alias " Texas." The quarrel was of the usual 
sort, instigated by whisky, and the penalty of a term in State Prison was meted 
out to " Texas," who was the aggressor. At a later date it will be seen that he 
served out his term, and returning to Sonora, met the usual fate of such 
desperadoes.
        Later in the files of the local papers is to be found an account of a 
fire that occurred in Sonora on March 31, 1871, consuming the ante-room of the 
Masonic Hall and the wooden building known as the Riffle Saloon, and doing 
damage to the premises of Jalumstein, Livingston, Street, Keil and Oppenheimer. 
The loss on the Riffle  Saloon was in the neighborhood of five thousand dollars, 
while Oppenheimer's probably exceeded that sum. The remaining loses are not 
stated in the account.
        Charles Thompson, a Swede, living about six miles east of Sonora, on the 
Ward's Ferry road, was killed, on November 7, 1871, by Jacob Oliver, another 
Swede, who was suspected of mental unsoundness. The deed was committed with an 
axe.
        A pistol was the weapon with which Mr. J. S. Kimball, of Brown's Flat, 
shuffled off this mortal coil, and the impelling cause seemed to be that the 
suicide was tired of living. Mr. K. was a much respected miner, forty-seven 
years of age, a native of Maine, and had mined on the Flat for many years. His 
death occurred May 6, 1872.
        In the following July occurred the trial of William Jones for killing 
John F. Rebstock, alias " Peg Leg," at Columbia, in October of the previous 
year. The case, occupying two days, terminated in the conviction of Jones, of 
murder in the second degree, and his sentence by Judge Booker to fourteen years' 
imprisonment.
        Another homicide, dating on the 29th of July following, was the killing 
of W. H. Engles by Thomas Willis, on the former's ranch near the Phoenix 
Reservoir. The killing was in consequence of a land trouble, and the weapon used 
was a shovel. In spite of the fact that Willis was the aggressor, he was 
acquitted on his trial in November.
        October of this year was marked by the fall of the Democratic flagstaff 
(which stood between the City Hotel and the Washington street bridge in Sonora), 
thereby causing the death of Nicola Blatcovich, who at the time was engaged in 
lowering the topmast, being then seated upon the cross-trees, some seventy feet 
in the air, and meeting instant death, when the pole fell from his weight.
        Ah Mow, of Chinese descent, fell by the murderous hand of his 
fellow-countryman, Ah Bun, at Jamestown, in 1872, and his slayer, tried and 
convicted of the murder, received sentence of death; but to avoid the penalty, 
the crafty heathen, a week before the time set for his sudden taking off, hanged 
himself in his cell—a common trick of condemned Celestial murderers, and one 
which is said to have more than once cost certain well-known attorneys a fee 
contingent upon a legal hanging.
        Another killing, in September, 1873. This was done by a boy named John 
Gillen, of Columbia, the victim being an old Norwegian named Forgar Oldsen, but 
who was affectionately known as " Uncle Harry." This murder, which was entirely 
without provocation, was equally without retribution, for the young man escaped.
        The Catholic church at Sonora was burned on August 7, 1874, only the 
walls being left standing. The fire originated in a small wooden building 
between the Priest's residence and the church, and owing to the scarcity of 
water, nothing effectual could be done to save the latter building. The loss 
amounted to about three thousand dollars, without insurance.
        The next sensation pertained to Columbia, and was the killing, under 
eminently justifiable circumstances, of Adolf Parou, by Thomas Hayes. Parou met 
his deserved death through the lowest species of immorality, touching as it did 
the well-being and virtue of young school-girls; and probably no manslayer ever 
met with more general approbation than did Hayes.
        Toward the last of November of the next year the Phoenix reservoirs, on 
Sullivan's creek, broke, from the overcharge of waters incident on the heavy 
rains of that time, and did considerable damage from the flooding of the low 
lands below. " The creek was already booming, and the storm was at its height, 
when suddenly, high above the lashing of the rain and the dash of the roaring 
creek, sounded the distant thunder of the coming waters." At first the creek 
began to swell gradually, but perceptibly, then move rapidly, until a great wall 
of water rolled down with thunderous roar, yellow with accumulated mud, and 
bearing upon its foaming crest huge logs and immense pieces of timber. On 
reaching Bergel's place, where the Summerville road crosses the creek, the 
waters hesitated an instant, owing to the narrow passage through which they had 
to pass. Then, with a mighty effort, it lifted the bridge as if it were a 
feather, carrying it away and dashing it to pieces in a twinkling. A number of 
Chinamen had formed a settlement on an island near where the road to Kincaid 
Flat crosses. When the waters of the creek began to rise, three of these men 
climbed a tall cottonwood growing on the banks of the creek, and were for the 
moment safe, but the wall of waters, rolling twenty feet high, submerged them, 
drowning them where they clung.
        
        The centennial year was marked by one tragedy somewhat out of the common 
run of killings, in that it was publicly done, a no less frequented place than 
Washington street, Sonora, being its scene. It had been years since the quiet 
town had witnessed such another high-handed outrage, if, indeed, any exactly 
parallel circumstance ever occurred within its precincts.
        On June 6, 1876, Harry Hyde, James Burns and Tobias Richards, all 
well-known residents of the county, sought out James M. Sloan in the livery 
stable of McLean & Co., and entered into a wordy quarrel with him, the evident 
intention being to force a fight upon him. Being unarmed, Sloan was only able to 
offer to fight Hyde., the most persistent of his tormentors, with his fists ; 
but to this Hyde would not agree, telling Sloan to arm himself. An application 
to several bystanders for the use of their pistols being refused, Sloan 
proceeded to Rowell's gun store in search of a weapon, which there securing, he 
came back to the vicinity of the first meeting, but on arriving at the cross 
street, next to the Long Tom Saloon, he halted and leveled his pistol at Hyde, 
who was standing with his pistol in his hand, in front of Wells, Fargo & Co.'s 
office (now Pickle's Gem Saloon). All who saw the shooting, and a large number 
did so, declare that Hyde fired first, and that his adversary replied almost 
instantly. Hyde continued to aim and fire, but Sloan, finding difficulty in the 
management of his pistol, which was new to him, succeeded in leveling fairly at 
Hyde but twice, his other shots exploding prematurely. When his pistol was 
emptied he held it above his head to signify its condition, at the same time 
turning towards Haag's saloon. At this instant, and while his adversary's back 
was turned, Hyde fired again, and struck his opponent in the right side. Going 
into the "Long Tom," Sloan laid his pistol on the counter, while Hyde proceeded 
up the street, where he was arrested by Sheriff Baxter ; but at this juncture, 
while yet the officer had his hand on his prisoner's shoulder, some one 
interfered, knocking or pushing Baxter from the sidewalk into the gutter, 
thereby releasing Hyde, who instantly proceeded down the street, carrying in his 
hand a loaded pistol which Burns provided him with. Sloan, in the meantime, had 
left Haag's and was walking down the street. Hyde followed, undeterred by the 
cries of " Arrest that man! " " Why don't some one arrest him ? " from the 
numerous and excited lookers-on, and before Sloan reached McLean's stable, fired 
three shots at him. Turning, Sloan grasped the pistol and wrested it from Hyde, 
who fled across the street, pursued in turn by Sloan, who, finding his strength 
failing, paused at Ryan's saloon and threw the pistol at his enemy and turned 
toward the Sonora Hotel (now Mark Hughes' blacksmith shop), and, reaching it, 
sank exhausted and bleeding upon the floor, dying within twenty-four hours, from 
the effects of the shot in the side—the only ball that struck him.
        In the course of the town's history hardly an event had happened to more 
effectually arouse the people than did this shooting affray, not because two 
desperate and reckless men had fought a duel which resulted in one's death, but 
because they washed their injured honor in blood that dripped in the public 
thoroughfare at a time of day when many citizens and women and children were 
exposed to death or injury from the flying bullets. The community was also 
considerably exercised over the idea that justice would not be done—seemingly a 
well founded fear, as the sequel might be interpreted.
        The trials of Hyde for the murder, and Burns and Richards as 
accessories, resulted in the sentence of the former to seven years' 
imprisonment, while the others both escaped conviction.
 
        The less interesting items of the burning of Brodigan's " Sonora Hotel," 
taking place on June 11, 1877, with a loss indefinitely stated, but probably 
exceeding seven thousand dollars ; the suicides of Per Johnson, in October, 
1878, and of Valentine Hahn, aged seventy years, in the month of February, 1879, 
together with some minor matters, make up the sum of Tuolumne's history for the 
time until the occurrence of the Texas-Sandoval shooting affray, of which the 
annexed is a brief account ; deservedly brief, since, were it not for its 
recentness, there is nothing to distinguish it above the numerous other 
murderous affrays born in the plague spot of the Tigre.
        " Texas," otherwise known as Thomas Newton, one of the numerous class of 
men, quiet, but still worthless, when sober, but desperate and quarrelsome when 
in his cups, has already been mentioned as the one who inflicted serious wounds 
upon Scott, a bartender, a few years previous, and who for that offense was 
confined at San Quentin for a term of years. A native of Florida, he had served 
the Government in the Mexican War, and acquired a reputation for fearlessness, 
when once aroused. In earlier years he had killed a man in a disreputable house, 
and at other times had had numerous encounters with persons of his own stamp, in 
which he had nearly always come off first best, but frequently with wounds which 
would have sent a man of ordinary tenacity of life into an immediate grave; but, 
as each of this class finally meets his man, so Texas fell by the bullet of a 
foeman he would at other times have despised. The affray, in its particulars 
only a common Tigre row, had its origin in a dispute about a female inhabitant 
of that region, taking place in Wolfling's slaughter­house, and resulted in the 
immediate death of the unarmed Texas, by a bullet wound in the left eye, 
penetrating the brain. Sandoval was acquitted.
 
        During the year 1880 but a solitary instance, seemingly worthy of 
narrative occurred. This was the death of Father John Treinor, from the 
upsetting of a stage, near Priest's Hotel. It seems that Father Treinor, in 
company with several of the parishioners of the Church of St. Lawrence, in New 
York City, whereof he was pastor, had left their home for a pleasure trip to the 
Pacific Coast, and while on their way to Yosemite, the lamentable accident took 
place. The reverend gentleman was described as a man of the highest attainments 
and of splendid natural abilities.
        1881 proved more fruitful in events, for in that year several 
interesting occurrences took place to remove the dullness of the average times. 
Among these was the killing of a Chinaman known as Duck Lee's Brother, by Ah On, 
in the street, near Judge Rooney's house, in Sonora. For this the rash Ah On was 
sentenced to State's Prison for a term of fifteen years.
        Then, in order, came the abduction case of Helen Armand, by two or more 
persons, one a woman, the others bearing, but disgracing, the form of men; and 
these low, disreputable beings received the merited penalty of their filthy work 
in a State's Prison sentence..
        Then, for a time, the celebrated Bonanza suit of Hughes versus Divoll 
contributed its details, through several months, to interest the community, who 
were patriotically rejoiced when the "thoroughbred " Tuolumneites, Messrs. 
Divoll, Colby and others carried their flag to deserved victory; and Art 
herself, in the shape of Mr. Sears' caricatures, immortalized the progress of 
the case and the principal actors therein.
        While still the case was pending, and the contestants were gathering up 
their forces for victory, Mr. E. A. Rodgers, a very prominent lawyer, resident 
of Sonora, School Director, and ex-District Attorney, then acting as counsel for 
the Bonanza Mine owners, was the victim of a midnight assassin, who, on the 
evening of September 20, waylaid him near his residence, and fired a shot, 
which, striking its human target, entered the back to the right of the spinal 
column, and, passing around the ribs, came out in front. The wound, deemed 
mortal at first, fortunately did not prove so, a few weeks sufficing to restore 
the gentleman to his accustomed tasks. The identity of the assailant has not so 
far been established.
        On the preceding evening, the safe in which the County funds were kept, 
situated in the livery stable of McLean, Kelly & Co., was robbed, by parties who 
have ever since remained unknown, of the sum of six thousand eight hundred 
dollars in coin. As bound, under his duties as County Treasurer, Mr. McLean 
subsequently made good this sum to the County, out of his own pocket, assuming 
the new burden in a manner so quiet and unostentatious as to win the sympathy 
and praise of all.
        Finally, this account arrives at the last great sensation which Tuolumne 
has known:
The Bergel Murder.
        Frank P. Gilkey came to Sonora on Saturday, December 17, 1881, and gave 
information that William Bergel, an old man of sixty years, was lying murdered 
in the rear of his wayside inn, two miles east of Sonora on the Summersville 
road.
        Coroner Van Harlingen and others immediately proceeded to the indicated 
place and found the tidings true, the body of Bergel encircled with a rope 
confining the arms to the side, passing also around the neck. In the neck was a 
knife wound, and the head crushed in, and a bullet wound in the temple, showed 
how life had passed away. Circumstances showed that the murder had been done for 
purposes of robbery, Bergel being popularly supposed to have large sums of money 
buried, or otherwise hidden, in and about the grounds.
        Within a short time of suspense, during which a popular feeling of 
anxiety ran high, the efficient officers Sheriff Yancey and Deputy Sheriff 
McQuade obtained information which led to the arrest of Frank Gilkey, the young 
man who first gave information of the tragedy, and Tobias Richards, who, it will 
be remembered, was one of the parties to the killing of Sloan a few years past. 
Besides these men, two others have, up to the time of writing, been arrested for 
complicity in the affair, but their guilt not appearing they have been 
discharged.
        The trial of Gilkey and Richards, important as the occasion was, and 
attracting much attention, besides the conviction of the accused, left also the 
pleasanter feeling that the legal talent of Sonora is indeed worthy of 
comparison with that of the earlier times, when Barber, Greenwood, Moore, 
Dorsey, and other legal practitioners, formed a group of men unexcelled in their 
profession, and who have left us as a legacy to the student and to the reader of 
this day the accounts of the greatest forensic triumphs, the shrewdest counsel 
and the deepest learning.
Stage Robberies.
        There are, and always have been, two directions in which the criminal 
instincts of felons have most betrayed themselves, among the Southern Mines. Of 
these, murder is the most deplorable and most prominent, while robbing of stages 
by professional or amateur highwaymen has always maintained itself as second in 
the catalogue of crime.
        With almost infinite trouble and labor, the circumstances of nearly 
every stage robbery that has taken place in the county, at dates recent enough 
to render them of interest, have been gathered and are here presented. There 
were two robberies in the olden times which merit remark; one of them that of 
the stage of Adams & Co., at Brown's Flat, when twenty-five thousand dollars was 
taken, has been previously mentioned. The other was the theft of sixty thousand 
dollars from the Big Oak Flat stage, but concerning which no reliable 
particulars can now be gathered.
        On November 6, 1874, the stages of Shine, and Miller & Co., were stopped 
by six highwaymen while on the road from Sonora to Milton, between the latter 
place and Salt Spring Valley, and the latter stage was relieved of the Chinese 
Camp, and Big Oak Flat express boxes. The amount they contained was not made 
public.
        On March 23, 1875, the mail stage was robbed near Reynolds' Ferry by 
three masked men. The passengers, eight in number, were unmolested, though some 
of them made offers of their money, but the treasure box of Wells, Fargo & Co. 
was taken, its contents being valued at six thousand dollars.
        July 26 of the same year the same stage was again stopped at Reynolds' 
Ferry hill by a single footpad. There were ten passengers on board, but in spite 
of this circumstance, the robber, with his little shotgun, took the treasure, 
amounting to one hundred and sixty dollars. Following Shine's stage came McLean 
& Gardiner's private stage, which was stopped, but allowed soon to proceed.
        The Chinese Camp stage was stopped December 1, 1875, in this county, two 
miles from the Union bridge, across the Stanislaus river. The driver, J. 
Gibbons, being alone, had to give up the treasure box without resistance. The " 
agent " gained six hundred dollars by this haul.
        An unsuccessful attempt was made to rob the Milton stage on November 15, 
1876, by three masked men, who had stationed themselves near the flume between 
Brown's Flat and Columbia; but John Shine, the driver, disobeying their commands 
to halt, drove on at full speed, thus foiling the robbers, who could only 
display their disappointment by firing at the rear of the stage.
        When February 24, 1877, came around, the mail stage was again robbed at 
Reynolds' Ferry by one masked robber of the heavy villain order, who obtained 
the treasure box, together with a small sum of money, which he took from Mr. 
Milo Hoadley, of San Francisco. His enjoyment of the fruits of his enterprise 
was but short, however, as he was captured within a day or two.
        Three men robbed the unlucky mail stage again, near Copperopolis, Sam. 
Smith driving, and divided the spoils, amounting to eight hundred dollars.
        On the 16th of January, 1878, the same stage was stopped by three men, 
at a place on the Brown's Flat road one and a half miles from Sonora. Mr. Shine 
was the driver on this occasion, and Messrs. Caleb Dorsey, J. H. Condit and J. 
G. Divoll were passengers. The amount taken was somewhat over five thousand 
dollars. For the crime Pedro Ybarra, Richard Bolter and J. Thayer were arrested, 
and by the following May, Ybarra was sentenced to imprisonment for life; Thayer 
received eight years, while Bolter was set free in consideration of his turning 
State's evidence.
        On November 7, 1881, the robbery of the Milton stage was again reported. 
This time it took place about four miles beyond Tuttletown, near the Garibaldi 
mine. Four masked men appeared and commanded Stringham, the driver, to halt, 
when they broke open two wooden express boxes and the iron safe of Wells, Fargo 
& Co., taking the contents, amounting to about three thousand dollars, in 
addition to which they secured five hundred dollars from a passenger, Mr. 
Mundorff, of Sonora.
        The latter robbers were captured through the exertions of the Sheriff 
and Deputy of Tuolumne county, aided by the Express Company, and upon conviction 
William A. Miller and William A. Miner were each sentenced to twenty-five years 
in State Prison, while their accomplice, James Crum, received twelve years.
        On the 3d of February, 1882, the last robbery took place. This was of 
the Chinese Camp stage, the amount taken being less than three hundred dollars. 
The highwaymen leaving this region, were followed by officer McQuade, but 
without success, until they were taken by the Express Company's detective in San 
Benito county. The men, both old convicts, gave their names as Frank H. Rolfe 
and Joseph Hampton. Tried and found guilty, they were sentenced by Judge Rooney, 
Rolfe to imprisonment for life, Rampton to five years' confinement.
        This closes the tale of stage robberies, if we except the account of the 
unfortunate fellow who stopped Stringham last Spring for three long hours, while 
he labored with a dull hatchet to cut open the iron express box, then to be 
compelled to give it up as a too difficult job, and finally, to find himself in 
prison for five years for the offense.