History of Santa Clara County, California, with biographical sketches of the leading men and women of the county who have been identified with its growth and development from the early days to the present, Part 17

Author: Sawyer, Eugene Taylor, 1846-
Publication date: 1922
Publisher: Los Angeles : Historic Record Co.
Number of Pages: 1928

USA > California > Santa Clara County > History of Santa Clara County, California, with biographical sketches of the leading men and women of the county who have been identified with its growth and development from the early days to the present > Part 17

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The park, as originally used, extended on the north side from the Park Avenue bridge to Spencer Avenue and along Spencer Avenue, fifty varas deep to within 13712 feet of San Carlos Street. On the east the property ran southerly about 300 feet. The creek was the eastern boundary and south and east of the park were the extensive grounds of Louis Pre- vost. He was an enthusiastic gardener and to make his place the most attractive spot in the suburbs of San Jose, he imported from Europe the choicest flowers, bushes and fruit and ornamental trees. The place was known as Prevost's Gardens and was open to the pub- lic, while for years Prevost kept open house in the large mansion in the middle of the gar- dens. About forty years ago Prevost went into bankruptcy and his property was sold by the Sheriff, Robert Page, then of the real es- tate firm of Rucker & Page, becoming the owner of the mansion. A few years later it was sold to A. S. Williams, former banker, who still occupies it.

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Prevost lost considerable money in at- tempting to successfully establish a silk fac- tory. He was the pioneer of Central Califor- nia in this industry and while the factory was in operation products of his looms were ex- hibited and took prizes at the county fairs. The factory was located on Delmas Avenue near San Salvador Street, but the cocoons were raised on a platform above the roof of his mansion. The silk worms were imported and fed on mulberry leaves. Live Oak Park and its attractive neighbor, Prevost's Garden, were closed at about the same time. Now, where once live oaks flourished and choice flowers and shrubbery made beautiful over seven acres of ground, are seen up-to-date re- sidences and new streets.

The old Court House is now but a memory. It stood at the southeast corner of Second and San Fernando Streets. It was purchased from A. S. Caldwell for $4,000 and in Decem- ber, 1853, was officially declared to be the County Court House. The building was af- terwards known as the What Cheer House and stood until about forty years ago when it was torn down to make room for the two- story brick building now occupied by the Geo. B. McKee Company.

One of the sensational events of the early days was the street duel between Thomas Shore and S. J. Crosby. In 1858 Paul Shore was killed on Henry W. Seale's ranch, a short distance from Mayfield. He had squatted on a portion of the ranch land and thereon had erected a cabin. Thomas Seale, Henry's brother, believing that Shore had no legal right to occupy the land, resolved to eject him. One day he went to Shore's cabin for the purpose of carrying out his resolve. He was accompanied by Alexander Robb, a hired man. Shore was at home and a wordy dispute arose between the two men. While it was going on S. J. Crosby, a neighbor, and a friend of Seale, came up. He had borrowed a pistol from Seale some time before and had hunted up Seale, so he said, for the purpose of returning the weapon. Seale took the pistol and in the altercation that ensued Shore was shot and mortally wounded. The report was after- ward circulated that Crosby, who had wit- nessed the shooting, had set Seale's dog on the wounded man and had stood by urging the dog on until Shore had ceased to breathe. This report aroused a bitter feeling against Crosby. That evening Thomas Seale came to San Jose and delivered himself into the custody of Sheriff John M. Murphy, stating that he had killed a man in self-defense and desired a public investigation. The next day word came from Mayfield that the settlers were lay- ing plans to lynch Crosby. To prevent such

action Under-Sheriff John R. Wilson was in- structed to go down to Mayfield, arrest Cros- by and bring him to the County Jail. To le- galize the proceeding a complaint charging Crosby with being an accessory to the killing of Shore was made out and placed in Wilson's hand. The arrest was easily made. A prelim- inary examination followed and Crosby was discharged.

In March, 1859, Thomas Seale and Robb, the hired man, were placed on trial in the Third District Court, Judge Sam Bell McKee presiding. J. A. Moultrie, as district attorney, conducted the prosecution and William T. Wallace and C. T. Ryland appeared for the defendants. Crosby had been summoned as a witness and it was while the case was before the Court on Second Street, corner of San Fer- nando, that the second tragedy was staged. It was near the noon hour and Crosby was walking by Thomas Bodley's stable on San Fernando Street, between First and Second, when he was hailed from behind by Thomas Shore, the brother of Paul. Crosby turned and the duel opened. At the opening of the engagement Crosby received a mortal wound, but for a few minutes was able to keep on his feet and use his pistol. His firing was wild and none of the bullets reached his adversary. But one man, an innocent party, received his death wound. The man was L. Posey Fer- guson, a miner from Grass Valley, who had come to San Jose with a friend who was on his way to his Missouri home. Ferguson had entered the court room to listen to the pro- ceedings. When the duel outside opened, he said: "What does that mean?" and rushed for the door. He was standing on the steps when a bullet entered his breast. He stepped back a few paces, then sank on a bench and died in a short time. The coroner's jury found that the shot had been fired by Samuel J. Crosby.

When Crosby saw that he was at a disad- vantage, he staggered toward the Court House, but fell at Bodley's gate. It was . claimed at the time that two or three persons, as well as Shore, shot at Crosby, who was on his knees, trying to cock his pistol, when there came the bullet that ended his life. The duel over, Thomas Shore mounted a horse and fled to the mountains. He was never prosecuted for the killing. The cases of Seale and Robb were transferred to Alameda. In each case a verdict of acquittal was rendered.

Another old landmark that has disappeared was the county jail, located at the southeast corner of Third and San Fernando Streets, not far from the Court House. The first county jail was located on the lot occupied by the old State House on Market Street, fronting

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the Plaza, and was erected in the days of '49. In 1854 a contract was awarded to Marcus Williams for the erection of a jail building at the southeast corner of Second and San Fer- nando Streets. The price was to be $15,000 and R. B. Buckner was appointed to superin- tend the construction. The jail was complet- ed January 2, 1855. It was of brick, with iron cells, and was considered a remarkably secure place for the confinement of prisoners. It was used until 1871. When the new Court House on First Street, near St. James, was built, it was found necessary to have the county jail nearer to the court rooms and Levi Goodrich was directed to prepare plans and specifica- tions. The plans were submitted and adopted and during the next year (1870) the jail was completed and in use. The brick of the old jail was used in the new building. The old jail lot was sold for $5,850.

The killing of Jailer Martin Roohan at the old jail was preceded by a tragedy at the adobe house of Harry Bee. The date was Monday, July 30, 1860, at about four o'clock in the morning. There had been a night of festivity and during the merrymaking Felipe Hernandez, a desperate character, who had already been tried for one murder and though convicted by one jury was on a second trial found not guilty, entered and proceeded to make trouble. In a dispute over the owner- ship of a guitar, Hernandez shot and killed John Bee, the son of the host. On hearing the report of a pistol Harry Bee rushed into the room and in trying to intercept the flight of Hernandez was shot in the leg. Amputa- tion was afterward performed. Hernandez es- caped, but after some months was captured, tried and sentenced to death. The account of the murder of Roohan is taken from the Mercury of October 2, 1862.

"Felipe Hernandez, a prison confined in the county jail for murder and sentenced to be hanged on Friday last (Oct. 24th), performed on the preceding evening one of the most dar- `ing deeds of desperation that it has ever fallen to our lot to record. Felipe is a native Mexi- can, about thirty years of age, rather fine look- ing, with a keen, piercing eye. He is about five feet eight inches in height, weighing not more than 150 pounds, but evidently possess- ing the strength and agility of a tiger. The jailer, Martin J. Roohan, was a large, power- fully built man, sixty-three years of age, pos- sessing immense strength and cool, unflinch- ing courage. He had had much experience in handling and managing desperadoes and had unlimited confidence in his ability and nerve for any emergency.

"On the lower floor of the jail there are three large cells, opening into a corridor or

hall, about six feet in width and perhaps thirty feet in length. The middle cell, in which Felipe was confined, is lined with boiler iron and is otherwise made as secure as is deemed necessary to restrain the hardest cases. It is used exclusively for condemned prisoners or such as are awaiting trial for capital offenses. This cell Felipe occupied alone.

"On Friday morning (the 24th) while the sheriff was in our office attending to some business, his deputy, Mr. Chapman, came in and informed him that he was unable to get into the jail and wondered what had become of Roohan. Suspecting that something was wrong, in company with the sheriff and two or three officers, we repaired immediately to the jail yard and soon effected an entrance. The outer door of the jail was closed, but not locked. The door leading to the corridor we found open. On passing through into the corridor we discovered the jailer lying on the floor, stiff in death, surrounded by all the ghastly evidences of a terrible struggle.

"In the other cells there were a number of prisoners confined for light offenses, some half a dozen in each. The doors of the cells are latticed with iron bars, and whatever is transpiring in the corridor, may be witnessed by the prisoners within. Roolan usually had some one of the prisoners to assist him in the domestic duties of the jail. At three o'clock on Thursday afternoon, as we learn from the testimony of the prisoners at the coroner's inquest, the jailer and his assistant brought in the dinner and placed it on the floor of the corridor near the cells. It was the custom to feed Felipe first. Mr. Roohan unlocked the door and bade his Attendant to pass in the food. The attendant passed into the cell. Felipe, who had freed his hands in some way, with the quickness of thought dashed the man aside, sprang upon and seized Roohan by the body, at the same time getting possession of a knife which the jailer wore in a belt at his waist. Then commenced the fear- ful death struggle, in the presence of the other prisoners, who were unable to render either party the least assistance. The waiter, who is an imbecile old Mexican, shrank with ter- ror to the end of the corridor. The jailer car- ried a revolver at his belt, but Felipe hugged him so closely that he was unable to get at it. There were riveted upon the ankles of the prisoner at the time immense iron shackles, weighing one hundred pounds, and yet the other prisoners testify, they seemed of no weight to him. He had wound them with cloth and strapped them to his limbs in a way as to be of as little inconvenience as pos- sible. With a knife in one hand at liberty and with the other firmly grasping the body of his

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victim, he was a match for anything human. He applied the knife first to the throat of his victim, inflicting frightful wounds. This brought Roohan to his knees. Struggling to his feet he put forth every effort to overpower his wily foe. But weakened by the blows al- ready inflicted he was unequal to the task. Felipe then stabbed him through the heart and into the lungs, killing him instantly. He then informed the other prisoners, not one of whom was armed, that if they gave any alarm they would share Roohan's fate, and they knew he would keep his pro- mise. The prisoners say he appeared per- fectly cool, both at the time of the mur- der and afterwards. With the keys in his possession, he now had command of the jail. Unlocking one of the cells, in which there were five men, he thrust in the trembling Mexican waiter and again locked the door. Among the prisoners in this cell was a Chileno in irons, who had been imprisoned the day be- fore for stabbing a man at New Alameda. Felipe, after working half an hour, removed the irons and released the man, and they both together went into Roohan's private room, where they found files and old chisels neces- sary for their purpose. The task was a long and arduous one. The heavy shackles spoken of were secured to the ankles with half-inch bolts, riveted in the most substantial manner. The witnesses testify that it must have been two o'clock in the morning when the filing and hammering ceased. The desperadoes then made their escape, taking with them two revolvers and over $800, which Roohan was known to have had in his possession."

Felipe was a desperate, bloody minded man. He had been several times tried for capital crimes; once for the killing of Carobine at Alviso, for which he received a sentence to state prison for life, but was pardoned out by Governor Weller. When sentenced to be hanged for the murder of John Bee he mani- fested supreme unconcern. But later he changed his tactics, successfully playing the penitent. The jailer frequenly found him on his knees, praying, and it was with difficulty that he was induced to partake of food. His cross was always before him and he prayed with a perseverance that would have done cre- dit to a saint. By this means he threw Roo- han off his guard. When the sheriff suggest- ed the propriety of having some one stay with him on the night preceding the execu- tion, Roohan declared that there was not the slightest necessity for such a precaution-all was serene and Felipe was as gentle as a kit- ten. As soon as the facts in the case became known to Sheriff Kennedy, every exertion to effect the capture of the murderer was made

and a large reward was offered. It was after- ward reported that Felipe escaped to Mexico where he joined a party of revolutionists and that on being captured he was shot and killed.

Another escape from the old county jail took place in 1863. A stage-driver named John Marr, alias "Wild Cat," had an alterca- tion with another driver, a Frenchman named Peter Veuve, at the Washington Hotel, on Market Street, on the morning of Tuesday, November 18, 1862, which resulted in the death of Veuve. It appeared from the testi- mony that an old grudge had existed between the two men. "Wild Cat" accused Veuve of stealing money from Mr. Dutech, the stage owner. The Frenchman denied the allegation and threatened, on the day of the tragedy, that he would have a "Wild Cat" skin before night. Both men boarded at the hotel. There was trouble at the breakfast table, but they were prevented from doing personal violence. They then proceeded to the stable to "fight it out." On the way to the stable Veuve said to Marr, "I am unarmed. How is it with you?" Marr said, "No," a statement that proved to be false, as he shortly drew a knife and cut Veuve in the arm and the abdomen, causing death in a few hours. Marr was arrested, tried, convicted and sentenced to death. The sentence was imposed in the winter of 1862- 63. Pending the carrying out of the death penalty Marr was placed in a cell at the old county jail, having as companion one Abner Smith, who was awaiting death by hanging for the murder of a man named Van Cleave at Santa Clara. Smith was a large, heavily- built man, while Marr was small and thin. At the time E. H. Swarthout was the jailer, suc- ceeding Roohan, and when he assumed office a change was made in the jail arrangements. Instead of entering the murderers' cell by way of the door, he had a hole cut in. It was about waist high, had a cover, and this cover was kept closed and locked when not in use. The cells were in a long tank with a corridor around it. The corridor had only one en- trance and that was by a door opening into the jailer's office. One evening a short time before supper "Wild Cat" and Smith, who had been planning to escape, made ready to put their plans into execution. The lock of the cover was broken, and "Wild Cat," assisted by Smith, managed to get through the hole into the corridor. Then Smith tried to follow "Wild Cat's" example, but on account of his size was compelled to give up the attempt. He could insert his head and one shoulder, but his physical bulk prevented further pro- gress. "It's no use," he groaned, "I can't make it, so get yourself out as quick as you

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can and I'll stay here and take my medieine." "I'll have to, I reckon," returned "Wild Cat," "but I'm sorry to leave you. If I only had an hour in which to work, I could make that hole big enough to get you through." As he had only five minutes at his disposal he bade good-bye to Smith, closed the aperture and sought concealment at the further end of the tank. The jailer appeared on time, careless- ly leaving open the door of his office. "Wild Cat" was counting on this act and before Swarthout reached the cell door to discover what had been done, "Wild Cat" had slipped around the corner and gained the office. When the jailer found that "Wild Cat" had es- caped from the cell, he hurried to the office and out of the office into the street. The fugi- tive was not in sight. That night a search of the city was made by city and county officers, but no trace of the missing prisoner could be found. On April 2, 1863, "Wild Cat" was ar- rested in Stockton and brought back to San Jose. But he was never hanged. A petition for a new trial on the ground of newly discoy- ered evidence was granted and eventually the sentence was changed from death to impris- onment for life. Ten years later the Governor issued a pardon and "Wild Cat" returned to San Jose. He died here many years ago. Smith, for his crime, died on the gallows.

The last escape from the old jail occurred on the morning of February 15th, 1866, and was followed by a tragedy. Two Indians, under arrest for a murder committed in Santa Cruz County, overpowered W. H. Hendricks, the jailer, and after a desperate struggle sue- ceeded in obtaining the jailer's pistol. They then ran out of the jail and into Third Street. Hendricks quickly secured another pistol and followed in pursuit. He came up with one of the fugitives before he had gone a block and fired, wounding his man. A return shot pierced Hendricks' brain killing him instantly. The murderer ran along Third Street and con- cealed himself under an unfinished building. A crowd gathered around and a fusillade of shots were fired at the crouching murderer. He was soon dispatched. The partner of his crime and flight was afterward caught and hanged at Santa Cruz, May 22, 1866.

The killing of William Cooper brought for a short time to the old county jail a man whose act created one of the great sensations of San Jose. The story of the killing hinged upon the actions of a girl in her teens. In the late sixties Blanche Dubois was a student at the San Jose Institute. She was a very pretty girl, tall, dark, slender and graceful, with languishing eyes and a sunny smile. She had many admirers and there was hardly a

day when she was attending school that she was not seen walking with one or more of them. After she left school for her father's ranch on the Monterey Road near the ceme- tery male callers reached such numbers that Orrin Dubois, the father, grew irritable and suspicious. At last the girl's admirers sim- mered down to one young man, William Cooper, an Englishman. He was about twen- ty-five years of age, well-educated and of pleasing address. He had been a Union sol- dier and had in his possession his discharge papers. He had resided in San Jose for about six months and being short of money had worked at odd times for Dubois, his last en- gagement ending January 24, 1868. The evi- dence showed that during the last two weeks of his stay at the Dubois ranch he had induced Blanche to consent to an elopement, promis- ing to take her to New York and marry her, as under the laws of California he could not do so here without the consent of her parents. It was claimed that the grandfather of the girl was a party to the secret arrangement and carried messages from one to the other.

On Monday afternoon, January 27, Cooper called on Dr. Kline, an acquaintance, made a confident of him, said he expected trouble, as Dubois did not like him, and requested the loan of the Doctor's revolver. Kline refused to lend the weapon, but Cooper succeeded in borrowing a Derringer of Wesley Stevens, another acquaintance. In the meantime, Dr. Kline, from a sense of duty, communicated his knowledge to Police Officer Mitch Bellow and advised him to keep a watch on departing trains. Bellow immediately notified Dubois, and Blanche, under severe cross-questioning, admitted that Cooper was to come to the ranch house on a certain night, after the old folks were in bed and asleep, meet her and then proceed to carry out the arrangements for the elopement. She also said that she had agreed to leave the front door partly open and also that she had promised to gather all the money and jewelry she could lay hands on. Thus forewarned, Dubois watched for the in- truder the great part of Tuesday night. On Wednesday he came to town for the purpose of taking advice as to what he should do un- der the circumstances. He was advised to de- fend his premises, to treat Cooper as he would treat any marauder who should try to enter his house with felonious intent. On return- ing home, Dubois ordered Blanche to keep to her room after dark, for he intended to meet Cooper and have it out with the fellow. Night came and the hours passed until it was elose upon midnight. The house was still and Du- bois at the front door, which had been opened a few inches, waited, shotgun in hand, for

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Cooper to appear. His vigilance was re- warded. At the appointed time Cooper came up the walk, and was about to mount the steps to the porch when the door was thrown open and the shotgun spoke. Both barrels were discharged and as Cooper settled down to the ground, Dubois closed and locked the door and came out again no more that night. Both shots had taken effect in the side and stomach. Though mortally wounded, Cooper dragged himself through the Dubois grounds until he reached the home of a rancher named Reeves, half a mile away. He died an hour later. The next day Dubois drove to town and surren- dered himself to the officers. Pending exam- ination he was confined for a short time in the old jail. The court proceeding resulted in his discharge. Blanche married a few years after the tragedy and left San Jose never to return.

Shortly after the killing of Cooper, another man slayer was for a short time a cell occu- pant at the old jail. The man slain was Harry Love, alias "The Black Knight of the Sey- ante." He was a man of immense frame and of unquestionable bravery. He commanded the company that dispersed the notorious rob- ber band of Joaquin Murietta, the last fight on the San Joaquin plains resulting in Murietta's death. Love's wife was a wealthy landowner and the family home was near Santa Clara. For a number of years she refused to live with her husband on account of his cruelty. He was, so it was said, in the habit of beating her when he could find her alone and unpro- tected. It was partly to guard against such attacks that she employed Christian Elverson to work on the ranch and live in the house. Love spent most of his time in Santa Cruz County, leading a sort of a hermit's life and visiting his wife occasionally. He conceived a strong aversion to Elverson, pretending jealousy, which was wholly groundless, for Mrs. Love at that time was over seventy years of age. Finally Love ordered Elverson to leave the place, threatening to kill him if he stayed on. Mrs. Love earnestly urged him to stay and Elverson promised not to leave, but prudently armed himself. On the day of the shooting-it was in July, 1868-Mrs. Love went to San Jose to transact some business. She was accompanied by Elverson. Love, who had been staying in San Jose for a week or so, saw them together and immediately hurried to his wife's house and there armed himself with a double-barreled shotgun, a re- volver and a bowie knife. A step-daughter and a carpenter employed in repairing the house were the only persons at home when he arrrived there. He went out of the house with his weapons, locked the front gate and

took a position behind the fence to await the return of his wife and Elverson, swearing that if Elverson attempted to enter the premises he would kill him. The daughter, fearing danger to her mother, went into the road and when the carriage approached, motioned it back. Elverson, misinterpreting the girl's gestures, only approached the more rapidly. When within about seventy-five yards of the gate, Love discharged one barrel of his gun, a shot striking Mrs. Love. Elverson at once comprehended the situation. Leaping from the carriage he drew his revolver, and moved rapidly by side steps, upon the enemy, who was still crouched behind the fence and pro- tected by the gate post. When Elverson had come within a short distance of the fence, Love discharged the other barrel of his shot gun, a number of shots striking Elverson in the face and causing the blood to flow freely. But perfectly cool and undaunted, Elverson kept on his course, exchanging shot for shot until a bullet from Love's revolver disabled his right arm. Shitting his pistol to his left hand he rushed up boldly to the fence and sent a bullet through Love's right shoulder. Love, having exhausted his shots, immediate- ly took to his heels, shouting "murder," with Elverson in close pursuit. When near the house Elverson overtook Love and felled him with a blow from the butt end of the pistol. He was about to finish his work when the carpenter interfered. Love died shortly after- ward from the effects of an amputation of the shattered arm. Elverson was arrested, and confined in the old jail pending the prelimin- ary examination. At this proceeding the judge found that the killing was justifiable and Elverson was discharged.

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History of Santa Clara County, California, with biographical sketches of the leading men and women of the county who have been identified with its growth and development from the early days to the present, Part 17

Author: Sawyer, Eugene Taylor, 1846- Publication date: 1922 Publisher: Los Angeles : Historic Record Co. Number of Pages: 1928

Author: Sawyer, Eugene Taylor, 1846-
Publication date: 1922
Publisher: Los Angeles : Historic Record Co.
Number of Pages: 1928