USA > California > San Joaquin County > History of San Joaquin County, California : with biographical sketches of leading men and women of the county who have been identified with its growth and development from the early days to the present > Part 19
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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 Reyn- olds then left for Mexico and never returned to California.
The Brig Susanna
The least desirable place to an honorable, industrious citizens 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 Cun- ningham's time and since. In the earlier days criminals were lucky to get sufficient coffee, bread and meat, for then a criminal was re- garded as a social outcast, a vampire of so- ciety. In those days the first place of con- finement 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 com- pelled to take script for his pay and then discount it twenty-five per cent to get the coin. Louis Basilio, on one occasion in speak- ing of this brig said, "In 1849 I was work- ing 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 keep- ing of prisoners. The revolting spectacle of an American citizen in chains and that be- fore 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 sit- ting 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 hun- dred 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 re- moved to the John McNish building, north- west 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 build- ing 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 wretched- ness which flows from it are unpleasant sub- jects for the contemplation of good people." There were men of refined sensibilities in that day as well as this. Where did the super- visors 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
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prisoners. A constant watch is kept at con- siderable 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 sec- ond 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 bot- tles 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 erec- tion 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 cor- ner 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 archi- tect, David Salfield, under the direction of Sheriff Cunningham, drew plans for a jail, safe against jail breaks, and convenient and com- fortable 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 com- pelled 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, includ- ing 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 Mav 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 Mex- ican grants El Campo de los Franceses, El Pescadero, Chabolla and Moquelemos, which had been given to Mexican citizens in this sec- tion 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 doubt- ful 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 in- timidation 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 com- menced 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 ex- ceptions, 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 impu- nity upon the property of other persons. "One man, thinking that he might as well, in com- mon 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 unpleas-
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ant consequences took possession of him and both the squatter and his tent suddenly van- ished 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 set- tlers. These efforts seemed to have been prin- cipally 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 car- ried 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. Buf- fington, 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 quit- claim deed. "In accordance with the request of several American citizens, I, James Daly, hereby obligate myself to leave this place, re- linquishing 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 de- manded that Daly be given up to them. Their
demand was refused, and they expressed bel- ligerent intentions. It looked like war and the San Joaquin Guard, organized a few days pre- vious 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 squat- ter 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 Can- adian 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 immedi- ately 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 with- in the Pico grant) but when any one tried it the farmers generally banded together to pro- tect 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 be- tween 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. Balk- well 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
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tactics, a number of the farmers came to Stock- ton in a four-horse wagon in the stillness of the night and taking the old nine-pound can- non, that had fired many a patriotic and politi- cal 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. Load- ing it with powder, scraps of iron, nuts, bolts, pieces of chain, and other refuse from the blacksmith shop, they began moving the wa- gon 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 bom- bardment, hastened to the scene, and all hos- tilities 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 citi- zens and became well-to-do farmers. Balk- well, through the courts, retained a part of the laid. 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 can- celled his claim to the land under the school warrant law, and located a new tract, pre- sumed to be outside of Pico's claim. Soon after this Comstock died and a party of squat- ters jumped the Comstock land. Emile Hes- tres, 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 8
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 posses- sion of the land. The following morning the Guards under the command of Captain Pear- sall 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 vol- unteered 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 com day. It was a study to see them, some were pale with excitement, others joking and laugh- ing 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 Brod- erick, 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
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town reported the event. Once again, twenty- one years later, the militia was called out to compel squatters to obey the law in the Mo- quelemos 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 pre- sumed law-abiding K. K. K. lived in a civil- ized, peaceful community. One of the most numerous crimes of the early day was steal- ing. "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 war- rant 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 Wil- son. Owens and his friends took Wilson to a gallows near by, hoping to intimidate him into making a confession of guilt or inform- ing 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 Coch- rane and James Boland came into camp. The party was questioned, but giving no satisfac- tory 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 t 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. Sam- uel 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 Mc- Lean 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 to- wards the Levee. He was followed by the crowd whooping and yelling, and Owens. swifter of foot than Boland, rapidly decreas- ing 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 shoulted, "Hany 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 lac- erated by the lashing which two of them re- ceived. The sheriff, Dr. R. P. Ashe, addressed the mob, begging them to disperse and let the law take its course.
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