Organization of Vigilantes
About the time of the execution of
Ives and shortly following the murder of Lloyd Magruder and his
four companions, the citizens of Bannack, Virginia City and its
twin settlement, Nevada, decided that some organization must be
effected to promptly punish the reckless criminals who were
carrying the communities with such a high hand. From the best
evidence at hand, the movement was started by five men in
Virginia City, four in Bannack and one in Nevada. A vigilance
committee was formed with Paris S. Pfouts as president, Wilbur
F. Sanders, official prosecutor, and Capt. James Williams,
executive officer. Then, in total darkness, standing in a circle
with hands uplifted, Colonel Sanders administered the following
oath: "We, the undersigned, uniting ourselves together for the
laudable purpose of arresting thieves and murderers and
recovering stolen property, do pledge ourselves on our sacred
honors, each to all others, and solemnly swear that we will
reveal no secrets, violate no laws of right, and never desert
each other or our standard of justice, so help us God." One of
the by-laws read: "The only punishment that shall be inflicted
by this committee is death." The vigilantes did not strictly
conform to this by-law, as it was thought advisable to banish
some of the minor criminals whose offenses did not warrant
death, but whose permanent absence was obviously conducive to
the well-being of Montana.
Hanging of Red and Brown
On the 23rd of December, 1863,
twenty-four members of the Vigilance Committee, which had just
been organized, started from Bannack City to run down the
criminals of the region. Each man carried generally a pair of
revolvers, a rifle or shotgun, blankets and some rope. The
cavalcade, mounted both on horse and mule back, went by way of
Stinking Water, on to the Big Hole and over the divide in the
main range. The weather was very cold and there was much snow
upon the ground. Fires could not be lighted when wanted at
night, for fear of attracting attention. The men leaving their
horses under a guard lay down in their blankets on the snow-"the
wisest of them, in it." On Deer Lodge Creek they commenced to
come in contact with the desperadoes. Red (Erastus Yager), the
letter carrier of the band, was finally captured as well as
Brown, the secretary.
The culprits were informed that they
should be taken to Virginia, and were given in charge to a
trustworthy and gallant man, with a detachment of seven,
selected from the whole troop. This escort reached Lorraine's in
two hours. The rest of the men arrived at sundown. The prisoners
were given up, and the leader of the little party, who had not
slept for four or five nights, lay down to snatch a brief, but
welcome repose. About 10 P. M., he was awakened, and the
significant, "We want you," announced "business."
The tone and manner of the summons at
once dispelled even his profound and sorely needed slumber. He
rose without further parley and went from the parlor to the
bar-room where Red and Brown were lying in a corner, asleep. Red
got up at the sound of his footsteps, and said, "You have
treated me like gentlemen, and I know I am going to die I am
going to be hanged." "Indeed," said his quondam custodian,
"that's pretty rough." In spite of a sense of duty, he felt what
he said deeply. "It is pretty rough," continued Yager, "but I
merited this, years ago. What I want to say is that I know all
about the gang, and there are men in it that deserve this more
than I do; but I should die happy if I could see them hanged, or
know that it would be done. I don't say this to get off. I don't
want to get off." He was told that it would be better if he
should give all the information in his possession, if only for
the sake of his kind. Times had been very hard, and "you know,
Red," said the vigilante, "that men have been shot down in broad
daylight, not for money, or even for hatred, but for luck, and
it must be put a stop to."
To this he assented, and the captain
being called, all that had passed was stated to him. He said
that the prisoner had better begin at once, and his words should
be taken down. Red began by informing them that Plummer was
chief of the band; Bill Bunton second in command and stool
pigeon; Sam Bunton, roadster, (sent away for being a drunkard);
Cyrus Skinner, roadster, fence and spy. At Virginia City, George
Ives, Steven Marshland, Dutch John (Wagner), Aleck Carter,
Whiskey Bill (Graves), were roadsters ; George Shears was a
roadster and horse-thief; Johnny Cooper and Buck Stinson were
also roadsters ; Ned Ray was council-room keeper at Bannack City
; Mexican Frank and Bob Zachary were also roadsters ; Frank
Parish was roadster and horse-thief ; Boon Helm and Club-Foot
George were roadsters; and telegraph men; George Lowry, Billy
Page, Doc Howard, Jem Romaine, Billy Terwilliger and Gad Moore
were roadsters. The password was "Innocent." They wore a necktie
fastened with a "sailor's knot," and shaved down to moustache
and chin whiskers. He admitted that he was one of the gang; but
denied, as they invariably did, that he was a murderer. He also
stated that Brown, his fellow captive, acted in the capacity
before mentioned.
He spoke of Bill Bunton with a fierce
animosity quite unlike his usual suave and courteous manner. To
him, he said, he owed his present miserable position. He it was
that first seduced him to commit crime, at Lewiston. He gave the
particulars of the robberies of the coaches and of many other
crimes, naming perpetrators. As these details have been already
supplied or will appear in the course of the narrative, they are
omitted, in order to avoid a useless repetition.
After serious reflection, it had been
decided that the two culprits should be executed forthwith, and
the dread preparations were immediately made for carrying out
the resolution.
The trial of George Ives had
demonstrated most unquestionably that no amount of certified
guilt was sufficient to enlist popular sympathy exclusively on
the side of justice, or to render the just man other than a mark
for vengeance. The majority of men sympathize, in spite of the
voice of reason, with the murderers instead of the victims; a
course of conduct which appears to us inexplicable, though we
know it to be common. Every fibre of our frame vibrates with
anger and disgust when we meet a ruffian, a murderer or a
marauder. Mawkish sentimentalism we abhor. The thought of
murdered victims, dishonored females, plundered wayfarers,
burning houses, and the rest of the sad evidences of villainy,
completely excludes mercy from our view. Honor, truth and the
sacrifice of self to consideration of justice and the good of
mankind, these claim, we had almost said our adoration; but for
the low, brutal, cruel, lazy, ignorant, insolent, sensual and
blasphemous miscreants that infest the frontiers, we entertain
but one sentiment aversion, deep, strong, and unchangeable. For
such cases, the rope is the only prescription that avails as a
remedy. But though such feelings must be excited in the minds of
good citizens, when brought face to face with such monsters as
Stinson, Helm, Gallagher, Ives, Skinner, or Graves, the calm
courage and penitent conduct of Erastus Yager have the opposite
effect, and loss of the goodly vessel thus wrecked forever, must
inspire sorrow, though it may not and ought not to disarm
justice.
Brief were the preparations needed. A
lantern and some stools were brought from the house, and the
party, crossing the creek behind Lorraine's ranch, made for the
trees that still bear the marks of the axe which trimmed off the
superfluous branches. On the road to the gallows, Red was cool,
calm and collected. Brown sobbed and cried for mercy, and prayed
God to take care of his wife and family in Minnesota. He was
married to a squaw. Red, overhearing him, said, sadly but
firmly, "Brown, if you had thought of this three years ago, you
would not be here now, or give these boys this trouble. "After
arriving at the fatal trees, they were pinioned and stepped on
to the stools, which had been placed one on the other to form a
drop. Brown and the man who was adjusting the rope, tottered and
fell into the snow; but recovering himself quickly, the
vigilante said quietly, "Brown we must do better than that."
Brown's last words were, "God
Almighty save my soul."
The frail platform flew from under
him, and his life passed away almost with the twang of the rope.
Red saw his comrade drop; but no sign
of trepidation was visible. His voice was as calm and quiet as
if he had been conversing with old friends. He said he knew that
he should be followed and hanged when he met the party on the
Divide. He wished that they would chain him and carry him along
to where the rest were, that he might see them punished. Just
before he was launched into eternity, he asked to shake hands
with them all, which having done, he begged of the man who had
escorted him to Lorraine's that he would follow and punish the
rest. The answer was given in these words, "Red, we will do it,
if there's any such thing in the book." The pledge was kept.
His last words were, "Good-bye, boys;
God bless you. You are on a good undertaking." The frail footing
on which he stood gave way, and this dauntless and yet guilty
criminal died without a struggle. It was pitiful to see one whom
nature intended for a hero, dying and that justly like a dog.
A label was pinioned to his back
bearing the legend:
"Red! Road Agent and Messenger."
The inscription on the paper fastened
on to Brown's clothes was:
"Brown! Corresponding Secretary."
The fatal trees still smile as they
don the green livery of spring, or wave joyfully in the summer
breeze; but when the chill blast of winter moans over the
snow-clad prairie, the wind sighing, and creaking through the
swaying boughs seems, to the excited listener, to be still laden
with the sighs and sounds of that fatal night.
The bodies were left suspended, and
remained so for some days before they were buried. The ministers
of justice expected a battle on their arrival at Nevada; but
they found the Vigilantes organized in full force,
Execution of Plummer, Stinson and Ray
When Dutch John Wagner was brought
back to Bannack City, after his attempted escape to Utah, the
Vigilantes of Virginia sent a communication to his captors,
containing an order for the execution of Henry Plummer, Buck
Stinson and Ned Ray, the first as captain, and the others as
members of the road agent band. That action was followed by the
formal organization of the Bannack Vigilantes, and Dutch John
was taken by his captors to an empty cabin of Yankee Flat, where
he was held, pending the more important affair in connection
with the fate of Messrs. Plummer, Stinson and Ray.
About dusk of the following day, the
three horses of the aforementioned outlaws were brought into
Bannack by the Vigilantes, and not long afterward the principals
were captured. The three details marched their men to a given
point, en route to the gallows. Here a halt was made. The leader
of the Vigilantes and some others, who wished to save all
unnecessary hard feeling, were sitting in a cabin, designing not
to speak to Plummer, with whom they were so well acquainted. A
halt was made, however, and, at the door, appeared Plummer. The
light was extinguished; when the party moved on, but soon
halted. The crisis had come. Seeing that the circumstances were
such as admitted of neither vacillation nor delay, the citizen
leader, summoning his friends, went up to the party and gave the
military command, "Company! forward inarch!" This was at once
obeyed. A rope taken from a noted functionary's bed had been
mislaid and could not be found. A nigger boy was sent off for
some of that highly necessary, but unpleasant remedy for crime,
and the bearer made such good time that some hundreds of feet of
hempen neck-tie were on the ground before the arrival of the
party at the gallows. On the road, Plummer heard the voice and
recognized the person of the leader. He came to him and begged
for his life; but was told, "It is useless for you to beg for
your life; that affair is settled and cannot be altered. You are
to be hanged. You cannot feel harder about it than I do! but I
cannot help it, if I would." Ned Ray, clothed with curses as
with a garment, actually tried fighting, but found that he was
in the wrong company for such demonstrations; and Buck Stinson
made the air ring with the blasphemous and filthy expletives
which he used in addressing his captors. Plummer exhausted every
argument and plea that his imagination could suggest, in order
to induce his captors to spare his life. He begged to be chained
down in the meanest cabin; offered to leave the country forever;
wanted a jury trial; implored time to settle his affairs; asked
to see his sister-in-law, and, falling on his knees, with tears
and sighs declared to God that he was too wicked to die. He
confessed his numerous murders and crimes, and seemed almost
frantic at the prospect of death.
The first rope being thrown over the
crossbeam, and the noose being rove, the order was given to
"Bring up Ned Ray." This desperado was run up with curses on his
lips. Being loosely pinioned, he got his fingers between the
rope and his neck, and thus prolonged his misery.
Buck Stinson saw his comrade robber
swinging in the death agony, and blubbered out, "There goes poor
Ed Ray." Scant mercy had he shown to his numerous victims. By a
sudden twist of his head at the moment of his elevation the knot
slipped under his chin, and he was some minutes dying.
The order to "Bring up Plummer" was
then passed and repeated; but no one stirred. The leader went
over to this perfect gentleman, as his friends called him, and
was met by a request to "Give a man time to pray." Well knowing
that Plummer relied for a rescue upon other than Divine aid, he
said briefly and decidedly, "Certainly; but let him say his
prayers up here." Finding all efforts to avoid death were
useless, Plummer rose and said no more prayers. Standing under
the gallows which he had erected for the execution of Horan,
this second Haman slipped off his neck-tie and threw it over his
shoulder to a young friend who had boarded at his house, and who
believed him innocent of crime, saying as he tossed it to him,
"Here is something to remember me by." In the extremity of his
grief, the young man threw himself weeping and wailing upon the
ground. Plummer requested that the men would give him a good
drop, which was done, as far as circumstances permitted, by
hoisting him up as high as possible, in their arms, and letting
him fall suddenly. He died quickly and without much struggle.
It was necessary to seize Ned Ray's
hand and by a violent effort to draw his fingers from between
the noose and his neck before he died. Probably he was the last
to expire, of the guilty trio.
The news of a man's being hanged
flies faster than any other intelligence, in a Western country,
and several had gathered round the gallows on that fatal Sabbath
evening many of them friends of the road agents. The spectators
were allowed to come up to a certain point, and were then halted
by the guard, who refused permission either to depart or to
approach nearer than the "dead line," on pain of their being
instantly shot.
The weather was intensely cold; but
the party stood for a long time round the bodies of the
suspended malefactors, determined that rescue should be
impossible. Loud groans and cries, uttered in the vicinity,
attracted their attention, and a small quad started in the
direction from which the sound proceeded. The detachment soon
met Madam Hall, a noted courtesan, the mistress of Ned Ray, who
was "making night hideous" with her doleful wailings. Being at
once stopped, she began inquiring for her paramour, and was thus
informed of his fate: "Well if you must know, he is hung." A
volcanic eruption of oaths and abuse was her reply to this
information; but the men were on "short time," and escorted her
toward her dwelling without superfluous display of courtesy.
Having arrived at the brow of a short descent, at the foot of
which stood her cabin, stern necessity compelled a rapid and
final progress in that direction.
Soon after, the party formed and
returned to town, leaving the corpses stiffening in the icy
blast. The bodies were eventually cut down by the friends of the
road agents and buried. The "Reign of Terror," in Bannack, was
over.
The Greaser and Dutch John Hanged
Commenting on this triple execution,
Professor Dimsdale says: "Men breathed freely; for Plummer and
Stinson especially were dreaded by almost every one. The latter
was of the type of that brutal desperado whose formula of
introduction to a Western bar-room is so well known in the
mountains: 'Whoop! I'm from Pike County, Missouri. I'm ten feet
high. My abode is where lewd women and licentious men mingle. My
parlor is in the Rocky Mountains. I smell like a wolf. I drink
water out of a brook like a horse. Look out you! I'm going to
turn loose!' A fit mate for such a God-forsaken outlaw was
Stinson and he, with the oily and snake-like demon, Plummer, the
wily, red-handed and politely merciless chief, and the murderer
and robber, Ray, were no more. The Vigilantes organized rapidly.
Public opinion sustained them."
On the Monday morning following the
hanging of these wholesale criminals, the Vigilantes determined
to arrest Joe Pizanthia, the Greaser, to see precisely how his
record stood in Montana. Outside of it, it was known that he was
a desperado, a murderer and a robber; but anything outside of
the territory was not the business of the Vigilantes. Two of the
party sent to arrest him were shot from his cabin, one of them
fatally. The other, though wounded, shot the desperado, whose
cabin was finally bombarded with a mountain howitzer directed by
some military members of the assaulting party, now beside
themselves with fury and unsatisfied vengeance. After the house
had been partially wrecked, the wounded Greaser was dragged
forth, again riddled with bullets, the body hoisted and fastened
to a pole and made the target for a hundred shots. As if this
were not enough, the crowd which had now become a mob set the
cabin afire and threw the corpse into the fierce blaze where it
was burned to ashes. And in the following morning, some women of
ill-fame panned out the ashes to see whether the desperado had
any gold in his purse. "We are glad to say," comments the
professor, "that they were not rewarded for their labors by
striking any auriferous deposit."
The evening after the death of
Pizanthia, the newly organized committee met, and, after some
preliminary discussion, a vote was taken as to the fate of Dutch
John. The result was that his execution was unanimously
adjudged, as the only penalty meeting the merits of the case. He
had been a murderer and a highway robber, for years.
One of the number present at the
meeting was deputed to convey the intelligence to Wagner; and,
accordingly, he went down to his place of confinement and read
to him his sentence of death, informing him that he would be
hanged in an hour from that time. Wagner was much shocked by the
news. He raised himself to his feet and walked with agitated and
tremulous steps across the floor, once or twice. He begged hard
for life, praying them to cut off his arms and legs, and then to
let him go. He said, "You know I could do nothing then." He was
informed that his request could not be complied with, and that
he must prepare to die.
Finding death to be inevitable,
Wagner summoned his fortitude to his aid and showed no more
signs of weakness. It was a matter of regret that he could not
be saved for his courage, and (outside of his villainous trade)
his good behavior won upon his captors and judges to an extent
that they were unwilling to admit, even to themselves.
Amiability and bravery could not be taken as excuses for murder
and robbery, and so Dutch John had to meet a felon's death and
the judgment to come, with but short space for repentance. He
said that he wished to send a letter to his mother, in New York,
and inquired whether there was not a Dutchman in the house, who
could write in his native language. A man being procured
qualified as desired, he communicated his wishes to him and his
amanuensis wrote as directed. Wagner's fingers were rolled up in
rags and he could not handle the pen without inconvenience and
pain. He had not recovered from the frost-bites which had moved
the pity of X. Beidler when he met John before his capture,
below Red Rock. The epistle being finished, it was read aloud by
the scribe; but it did not please Wagner. He pointed out several
inaccuracies in the method of carrying out his instructions,
both as regarded the manner and the matter of the communication;
and at last, unrolling the rags from his fingers, he sat down
and wrote the missive himself. He told his mother that he was
condemned to die, and had but a few minutes to live; that when
coming over from the other side to deal in horses, he had been
met by bad men, who had forced him to adopt the line of life
that had placed him in his present miserable position; that the
crime for which he was sentenced to die was assisting in robbing
a wagon, in which affair he had been wounded and taken prisoner,
and that his companion had been killed. (This latter assertion
he probably believed.) He admitted the justice of his sentence.
The letter, being concluded, was
handed to the Vigilantes for transmission to his mother. He then
quietly replaced the bandages on his wounded fingers. The style
of the composition showed that he was neither terrified nor even
disturbed at the thought of the fast approaching and disgraceful
end of his guilty life. The statements were positively untrue,
in many particulars, and he seemed to write only as a matter of
routine duty; though we may hope that his affection for his
mother was, at least, genuine.
Dutch John was marched from the place
of his confinement to an unfinished building, where the bodies
of Stinson and Plummer were laid out, the one on the floor and
the other on a work bench. Ray's corpse had been handed over to
his mistress, at her special request. The doomed man gazed
without shrinking on the remains of the malefactors, and asked
leave to pray. This was, of course, granted, and he knelt down.
His lips moved rapidly; but he uttered no word audibly. On
rising to his feet, he continued apparently to pray, looking
round, however, upon the assembled Vigilantes all the time. A
rope being thrown over a cross-beam, a barrel was placed ready
for him to stand upon. While the final preparations were made,
the prisoner asked how long it would take him to die, as he had
never seen a man hanged. He was told that it would be only a
short time. The noose was adjusted; a rope was tied round the
head of the barrel and the party took hold. At the word, "All
ready," the barrel was instantly jerked from beneath his feet,
and he swung in the death agony. His struggles were very
powerful, for a short time; so iron a frame could not quit hold
on life as easily as a less muscular organization. After hanging
till frozen stiff, the body was cut down and buried decently.
Captain J. A. Slade's Taking-Off
The execution of Capt. J. A. Slade is
in a class by itself; naturally, an able, likable man, when
sober, but a reckless rough and outlaw when drunk. If ever there
was a man of "two natures," under such conditions, that
unfortunate man was Slade. He came of a respectable Illinois
family and was for several years a law-abiding resident of
Clinton County. Subsequently he was a division manager on the
Overland Stage line and murdered and mutilated one of the
station agents on the Platte River, but under most aggravating
circumstances. Far from committing any bloody crime since coming
to Virginia City, in the spring of 1863, he had upheld the
vigilantes, when sober; when drunk, he flouted all evidences of
law and order, and rode rough-shod over everything and
everybody. From the fact that his influence was so strong with
the naturally lawless element, such manifestations formed a
menace to the entire region; and it was imperative that an
example be made of him. There has always been more or less of a
dispute as to whether his hanging was not beyond his deserts, as
based upon his record in Montana. Mark Twain, in his "Roughing
It," and Professor Dimsdale, J. X. Beidler and others have
pictured Captain Slade in the foregoing lines, and have
graphically described the events leading to his execution, as
well as his last moments on earth.
After the execution of the five men,
on the 14th of January, the vigilantes considered that their
work was nearly ended. They had freed the country from
highwaymen and murderers to a great extent, and they determined
that, in the absence of the regular civil authority, they would
establish a People's Court, where all offenders should be tried
by judge and jury. This was the nearest approach to social order
that the circumstances permitted, and, though strict legal
authority was wanting, yet the people were firmly determined to
maintain its efficiency, and to enforce its decrees. It may here
be mentioned that the overt act which was the last round on the
fatal ladder leading to the scaffold on which Slade perished,
was the tearing in pieces and stamping upon a writ of this
court, followed by the arrest of the judge, Alexander Davis, by
authority of a presented Derringer, and with his own hands.
On returning from Milk River, where
he had been unsuccessfully engaged as a freighter, he became
more and more addicted to drinking; until at last, it was a
common feat for him and his friends to "take the town." He and a
couple of his dependents might often be seen on one horse,
galloping through the streets, shouting and yelling, firing
revolvers, etc. On many occasions he would ride his horse into
stores; break up bars; toss the scales out of doors, and use
most insulting language to parties present. Just previous to the
day of his arrest, he had given a fearful beating to one of his
followers; but such was his influence over them that the man
wept bitterly at the gallows, and begged for his life with all
his power. It had become quite common, when Slade was on a
spree, for the shop-keepers and citizens to close the stores and
put out all the lights; being fearful of some outrage at his
hands. One store in Nevada he never ventured to enter, that of
the Lott brothers, as they had taken care to let him know that
any attempt of the kind would be followed by his sudden death,
and, though he often rode down there, threatening to break in
and raise, yet he never attempted to carry his threat into
execution. For his wanton destruction of goods and furniture, he
was always ready to pay, when sober if he had money; but there
were not a few who regarded payment as small satisfaction for
the outrage, and these men were his personal enemies.
From time to time, Slade received
warnings from men that he well knew would not deceive him, of
the certain end of his conduct. There was not a moment, for
weeks previous to his arrest, in which the public did not expect
to hear of some bloody outrage. The dread of his very name, and
the presence of the armed band of hangers-on, who followed him
alone prevented a resistance, which must certainly have ended in
the instant murder or mutilation of the opposing party.
Slade was frequently arrested by
order of the court whose organization we have described, and had
treated it with respect by paying one or two fines, and
promising to pay the rest when he had money; but in the
transaction that occurred at this crisis, he forgot even this
caution, and goaded by passions and the hatred of restraint, he
sprang into the embrace of death.
Slade had been drunk and "cutting up"
all night. He and his companions had made the town a perfect
hell. In the morning, J. M. Fox, the sheriff, met him, arrested
him, took him into court, and commenced reading a warrant that
he had for his arrest, by way of arraignment. He became
uncontrollably furious, and seizing the writ, he tore it up,
threw it on the ground and stamped upon it. The clicking of the
locks of his companions' revolvers was instantly heard and a
crisis was expected. The sheriff did not attempt his capture;
but being at least as prudent as he was valiant, he succumbed,
leaving Slade the master of the situation and the conqueror and
ruler of the courts, law and law-makers. This was a declaration
of war, and was so accepted. The Vigilance Committee now felt
that the question of social order and the preponderance of the
law-abiding citizens had then and there to be decided. They knew
the character of Slade, and they were well aware that they must
submit to his rule without murmur, or else that he must be dealt
with in such fashion as would prevent his being able to wreck
his vengeance on the Committee, who could never have hoped to
live in the territory secure from outrage or death, and who
could never leave it without encountering his friends, whom his
victory would have emboldened and stimulated to a pitch that
would have rendered them reckless of consequences. The day
previous, he had ridden into Dorris's store, and on being
requested to leave, he drew his revolver and threatened to kill
the gentleman who spoke to him. Another saloon he had led his
horse into, and buying a bottle of wine, he tried to make the
animal drink it. This was not considered an uncommon
performance, as he had often entered saloons, and commenced
firing at the lamps, causing a wild stampede.
A leading member of the committee met
Slade, and informed him in the quiet earnest manner of one who
feels the importance of what he is saying: "Slade, get your
horse at once, and go home, or there will be to pay." Slade
started and took a long look with his dark and piercing eyes, at
the gentleman. "What do you mean?" said he. "You have no right
to ask me what I mean," was the quiet reply. "Get your horse at
once, and remember what I tell you." After a short pause he
promised to do so, and actually got into the saddle; but, being
still intoxicated, he began calling aloud to one after another
of his friends, and, at last seemed to have forgotten the
warning he had received and became again uproarious, shouting
the name of a well-known prostitute in company with two men whom
he considered head of the Committee, as a sort of challenge;
perhaps, however, as a simple act of bravado. It seems probable
that the intimation of personal danger he had received had not
been forgotten entirely; though fatally for him, he took a
foolish way of showing his remembrance of it. He sought out
Alexander Davis, the judge of the court, and drawing a cocked
Derringer, he presented it at his head, and told him that he
should hold him as a hostage for his own safety. As the judge
stood perfectly quiet, and offered no resistance to his captor,
no further outrage followed on this score. Previous to this, on
account of the critical state of affairs, the committee had met,
and at last resolved to arrest him. His execution had not been
agreed upon, and, at that time, would have been negative, most
assuredly. A messenger rode down to Nevada to inform the leading
men of what was on hand, as it was desirable to show that there
was a feeling of unanimity on the subject, all along the gulch.
The miners turned out almost en
masse, leaving their work and forming in solid column, about 600
strong, armed to the teeth, they marched up to Virginia. The
leader of the body well knew the temper of his men, on the
subject. He spurred on ahead of them, and hastily calling a
meeting of the Executive, he told them plainly that the miners
meant "business," and that if they came up, they would not stand
in the street to be shot down by Slade's friends; but that they
would take him and hang him. The meeting was small, as the
Virginia men were loath to act at all.
The committee were most unwilling to
proceed to extremities. All the duty they had ever performed
seemed as nothing to the task before them; but they had to
decide, and that quickly. It was finally agreed that if the
whole body of the miners were of the opinion that he should be
hanged, that the committee left it in their hands to deal with
him. Off, at hot speed, rode the leader of the Nevada men to
join his command.
Slade had found out what was
intended, and the news sobered him instantly. He went into P. S.
Pfouts's store, where Davis was, and apologized for his conduct,
saying that we would take it all back.
The head of the column now wheeled
into Wallace Street and marched up at quick time. Halting in
front of the store, the executive officer of the committee
stepped forward and arrested Slade, who was at once informed of
his doom, and inquiry was made as to whether he had any business
to settle. Several parties spoke to him on the subject; but to
all such inquiries he turned a deaf ear, being entirely absorbed
in the terrifying reflections on his own awful position. He
never ceased his entreaties for life, and to see his dear wife.
The unfortunate lady referred to, between whom she and Slade
there existed a warm affection, was at this time living at their
ranch on the Madison. She was possessed of considerable personal
attractions; tall, well-formed, of graceful carriage, pleasing
manners, and was, withal, an accomplished horsewoman.
A messenger from Slade rode at full
speed to inform her of her husband's arrest. In an instant she
was in the saddle, and with all the energy that love and despair
could lend to an ardent temperament and a strong physique, she
urged her fleet charger over the twelve miles of rough and rocky
ground that intervened between her and the object of her
passionate devotion.
Meanwhile a party of volunteers had
made the necessary preparations for the execution, in the valley
traversed by the branch. Beneath the site of Pfouts's and
Russell's stone building there was a corral, the gateposts of
which were strong and high. Across the top was laid a beam, to
which the rope was fastened, and a drygoods box served for the
platform. To this place Slade was marched, surrounded by a
guard, composing the best armed and most numerous force that has
ever appeared in Montana Territory. The doomed man had so
exhausted himself by tears, prayers and lamentations that he had
scarcely strength left to stand under the fatal beam. He
repeatedly exclaimed: "My God! My God! Must I die? Oh, my dear
wife!"
On the return of the fatigue party,
they encountered some friends of Slade, stanch and reliable
citizens and members of the committee, but who were personally
attached to the condemned. On hearing of his sentence, one of
them, a stout-hearted man, pulled out his handkerchief and
walked away, weeping like a child. Slade still begged to see his
wife, most piteously, and it seemed hard to deny his request;
but the bloody consequences that were sure to follow the
inevitable attempt at a rescue, that her presence and entreaties
would have certainly incited, forbade the granting of his
request. Several gentlemen were sent for to see him, in his last
moments, one of whom (Judge Davis) made a short address to the
people ; but in such low tones as to be inaudible, save to a few
in his immediate vicinity. One of his friends, after exhausting
his powers of entreaty, threw off his coat and declared that the
prisoner could not be hanged until he himself was killed. A
hundred guns were instantly leveled at him; whereupon he turned
and fled ; but, being brought back, he was compelled to resume
his coat, and to give a promise of future peaceable demeanor.
Scarcely a leading man in Virginia
could be found, though numbers of the citizens joined the ranks
of the guard when the arrest was made. All lamented the stern
necessity which dictated the execution.
Everything being ready, the command
was given, "Men, do your duty," and the box being instantly
slipped from beneath his feet, he died almost instantaneously.
The body was cut down and carried to
the Virginia Hotel, where, in a darkened room, it was scarcely
laid out, when the unfortunate and bereaved companion of the
deceased arrived, at headlong speed, to find that all was over,
and that she was a widow. Her grief and heart-piercing cries
were terrible evidences of the depth of her attachment for her
lost husband, and a considerable period elapsed before she could
regain the command of her excited feelings.
Beidler's Account of Slade's End
While stirring up Virginia City in
his last drunken spree, Slade had come across Beidler (X, he was
called for short), who had done all in his power, both
individually and through friends, to induce the whiskey crazed
man to "go home and behave himself." Kiscadden, a friend, who
afterward married Slade's widow, was among the most earnest in
making these requests. They had no effect, and while Slade was
grossly insulting, a local storekeeper, at the latter's place of
business, "over two hundred honest, determined miners (says
Beidler), headed by Captain Williams (the executive of the
Vigilance Committee), were just turning the corner. They came up
to Pfouts's store and Captain Williams stepped up and arrested
Slade while he was holding up Pfouts, Fox and Davis with a
Derringer in each hand. Captain Williams was backed up by two
hundred miners, each of whom could have shaken two or three
dollars' worth of pay dust out of the rims of their hats and who
had rifles and revolvers in abundance.
"Slade looked around and said 'My
God!' He was informed that he had one hour to live and if he had
any business to attend to, he had better do it. I was well aware
of the approach of the committee, and was informed long before
that the boys rifles and revolvers were being cleaned and loaded
fresh, which meant business, and I had begged Slade to go home,
but I knew when he got off his horse and I made the remark to
Kiscadden (asking him to coax Slade homeward) that it was his
last ride. If Slade had gone off when he was told, the committee
would not have hung him at that time.
"Slade was taken into the back room
of the store to settle up his business and begged all the time
most piteously for his life. A party was sent to arrange a place
for the execution. They went down the gulch and found an empty
beef scaffold, made the noose and fixed everything for the
hanging. * * * While Slade was standing on the boxes under the
scaffold, with the rope around his neck, he asked for Col. W. F.
Sanders, and the boys around were afraid to do too much
shouting, and I said 'Pass the word along for Sanders,' which
was done, but he could not be found, and Slade then asked for
Alex Davis, who came up and talked with the doomed man. Slade
asked Davis to plead to the crowd for his life and Davis said,
'Mr. Slade, I can only repeat your words. I have no influence
but would gladly do so, if I had.' The two hundred miners were
getting impatient and shouted 'Time's up!'
"These men were running mines on
their own account and wanted to get back and clean up and attend
to their business, as they did not come on any child's play. A
noble German by the name of Brigham adjusted the rope around
Slade's neck and afterward left the territory, being afraid of
the Slade men. Dutch Charley selected the place for the
execution. Captain Williams, when he heard how impatient the
miners were getting, said: 'Men do your duty,' and Slade died!"
Justice, as backed by a preponderance
of honest public sentiment, was master of the situation.
The most notorious and dangerous of
the road agents had met their deserts through the Vigilantes and
the miner's courts, but the champions of law and order were not
satisfied and would have nothing but a thorough clean-up of
infesting criminals. On the evening of January 13, 1864, the
executive committee of the Vigilantes determined on hanging six
of the worst men still alive. The morning of January 15th came,
and the detachment of Vigilantes marched in from Nevada,
Junction, Summit, Pine Grove, Highland and Fairweather, and
halted in a body in Main Street of Bannack. Parties were
immediately detailed for the capture of the road agents, and all
succeeded in their mission except the one which went after Bill
Hunter, who temporarily escaped. The other five were "rounded
up" the same day and executed in front of the Virginia Hotel. It
will serve no purpose to enter into details as to the different
attitudes assumed by the criminals at their arrest and
execution. Some were cool, some profane, some furious, some
rebellious and some resigned almost to the point of repentance.
But the men paid the just penalty for their many crimes and the
days of outlawry were doomed in Montana.
The operations of the Vigilantes
were, at this time, especially, planned with a judgment, and
executed with a vigor that has never been surpassed by anybody,
deliberative or executive. On the 15th of January, 1864, a party
of twenty-one men left Nevada under the command of a citizen
whose name and actions remind us of lightning. He was prompt,
brave, irresistible (so widely did he lay his plans) and struck
when least expected. Bill Hunter had temporarily escaped and was
in hiding, but he was rooted out of his nest about twenty miles
above the mouth of the Gallatin River, and started with his
escort toward Virginia City. The captors proceeded on their way
in that direction for about two miles and halted at the foot of
a tree which seemed as if it had been fashioned by nature for a
gallows. A horizontal limb at a convenient height was there for
the rope, and on the trunk was a spur like a belaying pin, on
which to fasten the end. Scraping away about a foot of snow they
camped, lit a fire and prepared their breakfast. An onlooker
would never have conjectured for a moment that anything of a
serious nature was likely to occur, and even Hunter seemed to
have forgotten his fears, laughing and chatting gaily with the
rest.
After breakfast, a consultation was
held as to what should be done with the road agent, and after
hearing what was offered by the members of the scouting party,
individually, the leader put the matter to vote. It was decided
by the majority that the prisoner should not go to Virginia; but
that he should be executed then and there. The man who had given
Hunter to understand that he would be taken to Virginia, voted
for the carrying out of this part of the programme; but he was
overruled.
The earnest manner of the Vigilantes,
and his own sense of guilt, overpowered Hunter; he turned deadly
pale, and faintly asked for water. He knew, without being told
that there was no hope for him. A brief history of his crimes
was related to him by one of the men, and the necessity of the
enforcement of the penalty was pointed out to him. All was too
true for denial. He merely requested that his friends should
know nothing of the manner of his death, and stated that he had
no property; but he hoped they would give him a decent burial.
He was told that every reasonable request would be granted; but
that the ground was to hard for them to attempt his interment
without proper implements. They promised that his friends should
be made acquainted with his execution, and that they would see
to that. Soon after, he shook hands with each of the company,
and said that he did not blame them for what they were about to
do.
His arms were pinioned at the elbows;
the fatal noose was placed round his neck, and the end of the
rope being thrown over the limb, the men took hold and with a
quick, strong pull, ran him up off his feet. He died almost
without a struggle; but, strange to say, he reached as if for
his pistol, and went through the pantomime of cocking and
discharging his revolver six times. This is no effort of fancy.
Every one present saw it, and was equally convinced of the fact.
It was a singular instance of "the ruling passion, strong in
death."
The place of the execution was a lone
tree, in full view of the travelers on the trail, about twenty
miles above the mouth of the Gallatin, The corpse of the
malefactor was left hanging from the limb, and the little knot
of horsemen was soon but a speck in the distance.
Bill Hunter was the last of the old
road agent band that met death at the hands of the Committee. He
was executed on the 3rd of February, 1864. There was now no
openly organized force of robbers in the territory, and the
future acts of the Committee were confined to taking measures
for the maintenance of the public tranquility and the punishment
of those guilty of murder, robbery and other high crimes and
misdemeanors against the welfare of the inhabitants of Montana.
Last Work of the Vigilantes
On looking back at the dreadful state
of society which necessitated the organization of the
Vigilantes, and on reading these pages, many will learn for the
first time the deep debt of gratitude which they owe to that
just and equitable body of self-denying and gallant men. It was
a dreadful and disgusting duty that devolved upon them; but it
was a duty, and they did it. Far less worthy actions have been
rewarded by the thanks of Congress, and medals glitter on many a
bosom, whose owner won them, lying flat behind a hillock, out of
range of the enemy's fire. The Vigilantes, for the sake of their
country encountered popular dislike, the envenomed hatred of the
bad, and the cold toleration of some of the unwise good. Their
lives they held in their hands. "All's well that ends well."
Montana is saved, and they saved it, earning the blessings of
future generations, whether they receive them or not. * * *
Very little action was necessary on
the part of the Vigilance Committee, to prevent any combination
of the enemies of law and order from exerting a prejudicial
influence on the peace and good order of the capital ; in fact,
the organization gradually ceased to exercise its functions,
and, though in existence, its name, more than its active
exertions, sufficed to preserve tranquility. When Chief Justice
Hosmer arrived in the territory, and organized the Territorial
County Courts, he thought it his duty to refer to the
Vigilantes, in his charge to the Grand Jury, and invited them to
sustain the authorities as citizens. The old guardians of the
peace of the territory were greatly rejoiced at being released
from their onerous and responsible duties, and most cheerfully
and heartily complied with the request of the Judiciary.
For some months no action of any kind
was taken by them; but, in the summer of 1865, news reached them
of the burning and sacking of Idaho City, and they were reliably
informed that an attempt would be made to burn Virginia, also,
by desperadoes from the West. That this was true was soon
demonstrated by ocular proof ; for two attempts were made though
happily discovered and rendered abortive, to set fire to the
city. In both cases, the parties employed laid combustibles in
such a manner that, but for the vigilance and promptitude of
some old Vigilantes, a most destructive conflagration must have
occurred in the most crowded part of the town. In one case the
heap of chips and whittled wood a foot in diameter had burnt so
far only as to leave a ring of the outer ends of the pile
visible. In the other attempt a collection of old rags were
placed against the wall of an out-building attached to the
Wisconsin House, situated within the angle formed by the
junction of Idaho and Jackson Streets. Had this latter attempt
succeeded, it is impossible to conjecture the amount of damage
that must have been inflicted upon the town, for frame buildings
fifty feet high were in close proximity, and had they once
caught fire, the flames might have destroyed at least half of
the business houses on Wallace, Idaho and Jackson Streets.
At this time, too, it was a matter of
every-day remark that Virginia was full of lawless characters,
and many of them thinking that the Vigilantes were officially
defunct, did not hesitate to threaten the lives of prominent
citizens, always including in their accusations, that they were
strangling. This state of things could not be permitted to last;
and, as the authorities admitted that they were unable to meet
the emergency, the Vigilantes reorganized at once, with the
consent and approbation of almost every good and order-loving
citizen in the territory.
The effect of this movement was
marvelous; the roughs disappeared rapidly from the town; but a
most fearful tragedy, enacted in Portneuf Canyon, Idaho, on the
13th of July, roused the citizens almost to frenzy. The overland
coach from Virginia to Salt Lake City, was driven into an
ambuscade by Frank Williams, and though the passengers were
prepared for road agents, and fired simultaneously with their
assailants, who were under cover and stationary, yet four of
them, viz: A. S. Parker, A. J. McCausland, David Dinan and W. L.
Mers, were shot dead; L. F. Carpenter was slightly hurt in three
places and Charles Parks was apparently mortally wounded. The
driver was untouched, and James Brown, a passenger, jumped into
the bushes and got off, unhurt. Carpenter avoided death by
feigning to be in the last extremity, when a villain came to
shoot him a second time. The gang of murderers, of whom eight
were present at the attack, secured a booty of $65,000 in gold,
and escaped undetected.
A party of Vigilantes started in
pursuit, but effected nothing at the time; and it was not till
after several months patient work of a special detective from
Montana, that guilt was brought home to the driver, who was
executed by the Denver committee, on Cherry Creek.
The last offenders who were executed
by the Vigilance committee of Virginia City, where two horse
thieves and confessed road agents, named, according to their own
account, John Morgan and John Jackson, alias Jones. They were,
however, of the "alias" tribe. The former was caught in the act
of appropriating a horse in one of the city corrals. He was an
old offender, and on his back were the marks of the whipping he
received in Colorado for committing an unnatural crime. He was a
low, vicious ruffian. His comrade was a much more intelligent
man, and acknowledged the justice of his sentence without any
hesitation. Morgan gave the names and signs of the gang they
belonged to, of which Rattlesnake Dick was the leader. Their
lifeless bodies were found hanging from a hay-frame, leaning
over the corral fence at the slaughter house, on the branch,
about half a mile from the city. The printed manifesto of the
Vigilantes was affixed to Morgan's clothes with the warning
words written across it, "Road Agents, beware!"
Montana Days of Outlaws
| Execution of
George Ives

Return to
Montana AHGP
Source: Montana its Story and Biography,
by Tom Strout, Volume 1, The American Historical Society, 1921
|