She stumbled down the darkened street, her face bloody and swollen. This was an industrialized section of San Francisco and no workers were around at such an early morning hour, particularly on that day because it was Thanksgiving. Nearly two blocks away she found an apartment building on a cross street where she roused a middle-age couple and begged them to telephone the police.
The woman was 22 year-old Jean Stanley. She had just escaped from a gang hangout where her friend, Jessie Montgomery, had been repeatedly raped. The public outrage following that vicious assault would set into motion the events which would soon lead to six men dead in Santa Rosa, three of them slain by a gangster's bullets and three hanging by their necks in the Rural Cemetery.
This is the second part of the series, "THERE WILL BE PRICES PAID" about the 1920 Santa Rosa lynchings. Although everything described below happened in San Francisco, this chapter aims to clear up misinformation concerning the crime and its victims, which were the sparks that lit a very short fuse.
For research I scoured all news coverage in the San Francisco Examiner and San Francisco Chronicle between November 1920 and February 1921. I found almost everything written about the events since then relied upon the earliest accounts - which often had errors large and small. More trustworthy details appeared in trial testimony and particularly the summary prepared by the state Attorney General's office (transcribed below for the first time), although even that report didn't cover some critical and shocking facts that came out late in the proceedings.
A broader goal is to offer context about what else was going on around the time of the lynchings, particularly to show the vigilante act in Santa Rosa happened amid a wave of vigilantism which suddenly swept across other cities in the state. And finally, before we get started, please note the stories about the gangsters who committed the crime and their punishments are not found here; for that background I again point Gentle Reader to the e-book, "The Fall of San Francisco's Notorious Howard Street Gang." Only two of the six men are mentioned here by name; from the viewpoint of our narrative, the rest can be thought of as interchangeable, faceless monsters.
The rest of this article can be read at the SantaRosaHistory.com website. Because of recurring problems with the Blogger platform, I am no longer wasting my time formatting and posting complete articles here. I will continue to create stubs for the sake of continuity, but will be publishing full articles only at SantaRosaHistory.com.
- Jeff Elliott
Yay, sesquicentennial! So what was Sonoma county really like in 1868? If a movie was made of Santa Rosa in those days, would it have the flavor of the sweet little town in "The Music Man" or the sort of rough place seen in "Gunfight at the O.K. Corral?"
I recently visited the Midwest and while waiting at the St. Louis airport I met a very nice Dutch family (Jan, if you're reading this, please get in touch; I lost your business card). They found it novel to meet someone from the West Coast, then became excited when they learned I was a local historian - to them, this place called Santa Rosa was somewhere between Deadwood and Dodge City.
Jan used to follow the Wild West festival circuit around Europe (yep, that's really a thing). He even had a custom-made Indian costume which he said was authentic down to the eagle feathers. (NOTE: the feathers were probably imitations, as it's illegal to sell them in the U.S.)
He peppered me with questions: Does our history museum have any guns of famous outlaws? (Uh, I doubt it.) Was Billy the Kid ever here? (No.) Jesse James? (No.) Wild Bill Hickok? (No.) Buffalo Bill? (Yes, but only with his circus.) Was there an army fort? (No.) Did Indians go on the warpath? (Oh, please.) Were there gunfighter shootouts? (No.) Were there lynchings? (Sure, the last being in 1920 - which gave him such pause that he asked me to write down the year to make sure he understood correctly.)
There never really was a "Wild West" here, I explained; Sonoma county was mostly settled by farmers from Missouri, and as a result the people in Santa Rosa and the rest of the county acted pretty much like, well, Missouri farmers. Yeah, it was unusual that Santa Rosa cheered for the Confederacy to win the Civil War and anti-Chinese racism was virulent, but there was never exceptional violence or lawlessness in Sonoma county during the latter 19th century. Then reflecting on our conversations during my long flight back to California, I regretted portraying that our history was ever so clear cut.
First, Sonoma county indeed had the sort of Old West outlaws that so intrigued my friend from Holland - he even might have heard of the poetically-inclined “Black Bart” who robbed three stage coaches here. B.B. gets all the press, but there was also the Cloverdale-based Houx Gang in 1871 and just a bit further north there was the cattle rustling and stage robbing Buck English Gang in the mid-1870s (and yes, Jan, his gun is in a museum). This pattern of stick-em-ups continued through the next decade with Dick Fellows and others whose names were never known.
As per Missouri: Sure, Santa Rosa's love of Dixie came from Missouri families often having deep ties to the Old South - but it was simplistic to say those Missouri immigrants hung on to all their Midwestern values once they were here. Even a deeply-rooted belief in civility can be degraded when someone is dropped into a frontier situation, where there are loose rules for conduct and weak institutions. All of the tales told below show the result; there are acts of impetuous behavior which never would have been tolerated back in their hometowns - including person-on-person violence and community vigilantism.
Historian Frederick Jackson Turner discussed this across several essays about the unique problems of the American frontier. When people are "unchecked by restraints of an old social order," it didn't matter if the frontier was the Carolinas during the 1730s, Missouri in the 1810s or California in the 1850s. The pattern was the same: American pioneers were quick to take the law into their own hands instead of waiting for the legal system to preserve order. "If the thing was one proper to be done, then the most immediate, rough and ready, effective way was the best way." That often meant lynching or pulling out a pistol.
Turner also pointed out that "a crime was more an offense against the victim than a violation of the law" and an insult or show of disrespect could swiftly lead to violence. Add the presence of firearms and a confrontation which might never have gone beyond shouting or bloody noses can become a deadly situation. And that brings us to the first tale from our Wild West days.
This is the "half" tale, which means I'm only summarizing it because you should read the whole story in John Schubert/Valerie Munthe's Hidden History of Sonoma County. It's a gripping yarn and well told by them; the book also has a chapter that reveals the history of Houx Gang (I once tried to figure out their doings, but there was so much confusing info I gave up). All together, "Hidden History" is easily the best book on Sonoma county history published in ages. My only quibbles are the lack of footnotes/endnotes, and the title grossly overpromises - a full "hidden history" would fill bookcases. As of this writing, it's even on sale at the Santa Rosa Costco.
In 1867, Charles Henley killed James Rowland. The two farmers lived about a half-mile apart near Windsor, and there was bad blood between them because Henley's pigs kept getting loose. Rowland corralled some of those hogs and Henley went over to fetch them, carrying a shotgun; there was a confrontation inside the pig pen and Rowland was shot dead at close range. The animals would mutilate his body until it was later discovered.
Later that night Henley visited a friend, confessed to the shooting and sought advice. The friend urged Henley to ride over to Windsor and surrender to the authorities, though he was hesitant because "they are all Odd Fellows," as was Rowland. Henley also asked the friend not to tell his hired hand because he was likewise a I.O.O.F. member, but the man had overheard Henley's confession anyway. Henley turned himself in the next morning and later that day, members of the Windsor Odd Fellows Lodge showed up to claim the body. Lodge members wore their badge of mourning for thirty days.
Henley was taken to the county jail to await trial. Exactly thirty days after the killing, Santa Rosa's night watchman was surprised by four masked men. "Keep quiet," he was told, "there are 150 of us, well-armed, and we have come to take a certain man out of jail." The watchman was held captive and soon joined by the jailer. Another of the masked vigilantes encountered a policeman on patrol and held the officer at gunpoint.
The jailer was forced to open Henley's cell and the prisoner was bound and gagged before being carried away. His body was found hanging about a mile west of town in what's now the Roseland district.
There was an outcry over the lynching in both the local press and the big San Francisco newspapers, with a reward of $2,000 offered for information on the identity of the mob. Any suggestion that the masked men were Odd Fellows was met with fierce denial and the pursuit of the guilty was soon forgotten.
Then just a few days after the lynching there was another killing in Santa Rosa.
Around midnight on the night of June 20, 1867, Byrd Brumfield used his pocket knife to slash John Strong to death at Griffin's Saloon. The number of wounds varied between 7-16, depending on who was telling the story. Although witnesses testified that Strong was running for the door at the time, the Coroner's Jury ruled that Brumfield had killed him in self defense. Testimony also revealed Strong had a six-shooter that he may (or may not) have attempted to draw, but the verdict seemed to come down to the jury being told that nobody liked Strong and Brumfield was a good guy.*
Between the slashing and the lynching, we can all probably agree 1867 was a pretty violent year in Santa Rosa (and remember, that was the year just before the one which we are about to sesquicentennial-ly celebrate). Still, the Sonoma Democrat boasted after Brumfield was acquitted, "to the credit of our town, that this is the first man ever killed in Santa Rosa. Few California towns can say as much." That of course was technically true, as Henley had been just strung up outside of city limits and when Michael Ryan had buried the point of a pickaxe in his poor wife's head two years earlier, his murder victim was not male.
Brumfield apparently decided that a pocket knife was no longer adequate for his needs. The following year he had an argument with Captain L. A. Norton and both men drew their guns. Brumfield fired four times before Norton's sidearm left his holster and the Mexican War vet was shot in the left hand. A jury again ruled Brumfield merely acted in self-defense.
In his youth Byrd had worked on the big Brumfield family farm, somewhere in the Russian River valley. By the 1870 census he appears at age 32 with the profession of "sporting man," by which we can assume means he was a professional gambler. By 1875 he found himself blacklisted by all saloon owners around Healdsburg; we don't know if that was because he was a card shark or just a violent alcoholic.
“Byrd’s on a big drunk today,” Harry Truitt warned those sitting in front of a Healdsburg Hotel on an afternoon that November. Brumfield was more than just liquored up - he was looking for a fight.
"There’s been a big poker game in town,” Byrd told a friend. “I'm going to play poker in this town,” adding he had been kept out of the bars long enough.
“They don’t treat me right in this town,” he told another, who asked, “Who don’t treat you right?”
“These Zane boys; they’ve got rich now and don’t notice a common man. I knew them when they didn't have a cent: then they treated me all right. I’m going into Will Zane’s saloon today or die; and I'll get away with it if I go in.”
Byrd held some sort of grudge against Willis Zane; six months earlier, Brumfield had borrowed Zane's revolver only to turn it on the owner and attempt to kill him (or so the "special reporter" for the Sonoma Democrat wrote). Zane was warned that Byrd was drinking and telling people he intended to show up at the bar. "I'll let them know that I'm not dead yet, but don't care a damn how soon," said the drunken Brumfield.
Shortly before sunset, Byrd staggered into Zane's saloon. Willis told him twice to get out. Byrd didn't say a word, but moved towards Willis (it was unclear whether his gun was drawn or his hand was still reaching under his coat). Zane drew his pistol from a pocket and shot three times. Byrd Brumfield was dead.
The Coroner's Jury acquitted Zane, declaring it was justifiable homicide, but much of the testimony was a mirror image of the 1867 inquest - only this time, nobody liked Brumfield and Zane was the good guy.
The takeaway from the story is not that Byrd Brumfield was a bad guy (which is pretty indisputable); it's how every time he had a beef with someone, he expected that other person to be armed. And he was right.
Scholars like to point out communities in the Wild West had strict no-gun laws, requiring those entering town to check firearms with a peace officer - remember the plot of "Gunfight at the O.K. Corral." While that's true, our local newspapers also show there were multiple "shooting affrays" every year in Sonoma county, although rarely did the incidents end in a death or even injury.
It's doubtful anyone ever walked the mean streets of Healdsburg or Santa Rosa with a gun holstered on his hip (other than lawmen), but all those affray items reveal some people were packing under that Victorian garb. Often they were the Usual Suspects (see Male: young, drunkenness of) but others would probably be surprising. Captain Lewis A. Norton, the man Brumfield shot in the hand, was not a cocky ne'er-do-well; he was a middle-aged Healdsburg lawyer and local Democratic party bigwig, a former Justice of the Peace who ran for county judge the year before he was shot, then state senate a year after.
And sometimes the shooters were even women.
| J. G. Hill of Forestville, better known as “Sock” Hill, while on his way to church at Forestville last Sunday evening, was fired at twice by Miss Georgia Travis. The first shot passed close to his left ear and through the rim of his hat, the second shot missing him entirely. Miss Travis was arrested Monday morning, on a charge of assault with intent to commit murder... |
That little item appeared in the Healdsburg Enterprise and other local papers in September 1879. (The item right below it, incidentally, was another shooting affray, describing a 21 year-old Lakeport bartender killing a patron who was told to leave but went for his gun instead.)
Details emerged a few days later: Sock - whose real name was Joshua - along with two young women, were walking to a Sunday night church service, as was Georgia. As they passed Faudre's Chair Factory (there's a reference sure to excite Forestville historians), Georgia drew her "bull-dog" pistol and began shooting at him. After firing both shots, she handed the gun over to a man who intervened. Sock and his women friends sat through the entire service (!) then went to Santa Rosa to file a complaint. He said Georgia had been threatening to kill him for over a year and he was afraid. The Grand Jury dropped the charges for lack of evidence, and it was never explained why she wanted the 42 year-old man dead. All she ever said was that she had been "slandered" by him.
Another month passed and there was a meeting of the Forestville Blue Ribbon Club, part of a very popular nationwide evangelical temperance movement. Although it was a night of heavy rain, 60-70 still turned out including women and children. Sock Hill attended as did Georgia Travis and her brothers, Wirt and John.
John was seated two rows behind Hill, and Wirt was the same distance in front. John reached over and punched Hill in the face. Sock Hill jumped up and confronted John Travis, drawing his gun. Wirt Travis then shot Hill point blank in the base of his skull. Amazingly, he would remain conscious until he died about fifteen hours later.
Panic ensued. John Travis apparently fired his own gun and Wirt shot again, wounding a bystander in the leg as he fled the room along with the dozens of other attendees. In court testimony there would be the usual claims and counterclaims - Hill fired his gun, John did not, John socked Hill because he turned around "made a face at me," Wirt claimed he shot Hill because he believed his brother's life was in danger, &c.
Wirt was found guilty of manslaughter and sent to San Quentin. The jury returned a verdict of not guilty for his brother John. "One of the most exciting trials ever had in Sonoma county," sighed the Sonoma Democrat, having stretched the sensationalist coverage over two issues.
So there you are, Jan; I was mistaken to tell you at the airport that we were just a bunch of boring ol' Missouri farmers. There absolutely was a true gun culture here in Sonoma county, and our communities - with somewhat of an exception for Petaluma - were very much gun-toting "Wild West" towns. Here I've only describe some of our frontier-type violence over a dozen years, but there could be dozens of essays like this to document all our uncivil behavior in the latter 19th century.
And don't presume the pistol-packin' days ended with the Gaslight Era. As documented here earlier, it was common to carry a “bicycle revolver" at least through the 1910s. There was also a dramatic four-way shootout in 1907 that managed to avoid hurting anyone seriously because no one knew how to aim.
A final note: Lest anyone rush to claim that crimes were deterred in those 50+ years of locals carrying concealed weapons, let it be known that I've never found an incident where a good guy with a gun stopped a bad guy with a gun. Instead, it's a miserable chronicle of holdup men using them to scare victims, fools and drunkards wielding these deadly toys at times of heated emotions, plus a hearty portion of gun owners shooting themselves by accident. Just tragedies with a dose of farce.
| * Later that year Byrd's sister, Jane, married an Alfred Strong, who is listed in the 1860 census as a farmer living in the Brumfield family home. I cannot find any family connection between him and John Strong. Byrd was living with the Alfred Strongs in the 1870 census. |
Quick Work.—Santa Rosa might be called a fast place in some respects. This week a man was killed, buried, and the perpetrator examined and discharged, all in less than twenty-four hours. We may remark, to the credit of our town, that this is the first man ever killed in Santa Rosa. Few California towns can say as much.
- Sonoma Democrat, June 22 1867
Disgraceful. —We regret to see in the San Francisco Police Gazette a disgusting wood cut, purporting to represent Byrd Brumfield in the act of killing John Strong in Santa Rosa on the night of the 20th of June. The Gazette was grossly deceived by its informant in regard to the relations of the parties, circumstances of the killing, and burial of Strong. The latter, we learn, was buried under directions of a relative, had a good coffin, and was decently interred.
- Sonoma Democrat, July 6 1867
Testimony in the Case of the People vs Brumfield
[inquest]
- Sonoma Democrat, October 26 1867
Death of Byrd Brumfield.
[inquest]
- Russian River Flag, November 18 1875- Sonoma Democrat, November 20 1875
From Forestvllle. Our regular correspondent writes us November 11th, as follows; "Forestvllle against the world. We have said this before and have occasion to reiterate it now. Saturday night last, 8th Inst., was one of our dark limes, and we were pained to witness such scenes as then occurred in our usually quiet village. As our tempetauce club was about to be called to order its peace and quiet was disturbed and the lives of women and children endangered by two brothers, Wirt and John Travis, who assaulted and shot to death J. G. Hill. The meeting was of course broken up for the evening, and the Society will hereafter convene at the Christian Church instead of the hall. Mr. Hill’s funeral took place at 2 o’clock on Monday, and the high esteem in which he was held by the community was manifested in the unusually large number of persons who attended the obsequies, over three hundred persons escorting his remains to the grave. He was a kind hearted man; one who was always ready to help the needy and to accommodate his neighbors. During an acquaintance of twelve years your correspondent always found him correct in his dealings, and his neighbors generally deplore his untimely death.
- Sonoma Democrat, November 15 1879
People Vs. Wirt Travis
[testimony]
- Sonoma Democrat, March 20 and 27 1880
Credit our last century ancestors with this: When they fought, they fought with conviction, and in 1909 there were more dust-ups reported than in preceeding years. Not that those tangles were unusually violent; it would be hard to compete with the year 1907, when there was a point blank shootout that wounded only bystanders, or 1908, when a brawl ended with one contestant trapped in a barber's chair where a variety of bones were broken.
Some of the 1909 tangles could have ended in fatalities, certainly. James Maloney was lucky to survive when his fellow woodcutter attacked him with an axe in the kitchen of their cabin (although that 9-inch gash in his chest must have hurt a bit). And then there were the two Sebastopol lawyers whose fight ended up in court, one claiming that he punched the other because he was just about to be bashed in the head with a hammer. Attorney L. G. Scott conceded to the judge that yes, he was indeed carrying a tack hammer at the time, but had no intent of wielding it as a weapon against the party of the second part. Ah, lawyers.
Also in court that year was Mrs. Emma Fetters, charged with "flourishing a dangerous weapon in a threatening manner" and disturbing the peace. The plaintiff was her husband's mother, who lost some of her hair in a battle between the two. The paper didn't identify the dangerous weapon - unless it was presumed to be Mrs. Fetters' disturbingly firm grip and tugging skills - but did note she was fined for disturbing the peace because the woman was "accustomed to use a great deal of profane language." Some of the cussing may have been because Emma and husband George had recently opened their Fetters Hot Springs resort and starting any new business is stressful, even without the helpful presence of moms-in-law.
But probably the strangest fight of 1909 started over a family breakfast on West Third Street in Santa Rosa, when a father chided his 22 year-old son for using too much sugar in his coffee. Son Harry spitefully dumped half the sugar bowl into his cup, then began pitching chunks of bread at his father and brother. Papa John followed suit by swearing out an arrest warrant against his kid for disturbing the peace. Your obl. believe-it-or-not twist: The feuding family members were the father and brother of Blaine G. Selvage, who has been honored here as one of the very first U.S. aviators, having made his maiden flight a few months earlier.
USES SUGAR TO EXCESSDisturber Escapes Before Serving of Warrant
Harry Selvage, a warrant for whose arrest had been sworn to Friday, by John Selvage, his father, before Justice Atchinson, on the charge of disturbing the peace, had quietly left town. In some way he got wind of the fact that he was scheduled for arrest and when Constable Boswell came upon the scene with the warrant, Selvage had gone hence. The latter does not bear the best of repute, having been given a "floater" in the justice court some time ago.
The present trouble all began over a few morsels of sugar. Harry Selvage had been reprimanded at the family table for putting several spoonfuls of sugar in his coffee. To show how cheerfully he received the admonition and reproof, he dumped half of the contents of the bowl into his beverage receptacle. He then started throwing pieces of bread at the heads of his various kinsmen. Whereupon the warrant referred to above was issued.
- Santa Rosa Republican, August 5, 1909
HAIR PULLING MATCH HELDYoung Woman Lost Hair; Old Lady Lost Natural Hair
Mrs. Emma Fetters, of Fetters' resort near Agua Caliente, appeared before the justice court at Glen Ellen Wednesday and was fined ten dollars in each of two cases for which warrants had been sworn out against her. One of the charges was that of flourishing a dangerous weapon in a threatening manner last Sunday and the other charge was that of disturbing the peace, which arose from a quarrel resulting in the committing of the first offense. The testimony in the two cases showed that Mrs. Fetters, Jr., in a quarrel with her husband's mother, got into a hair-pulling match in which the elder woman lost some of her natural hair and the younger woman had her artificial coiffure severely handled. From the testimony induced it appeared that the woman fined is accustomed to use a great deal of profane language. District Attorney Clarence F. Lea attended the session of the court for the county.
- Santa Rosa Republican, August 19, 1909
USED AXE ON BREASTJohn Riley Chops Anatomy of James Maloney
For cutting James Maloney on the breast with an axe, John Riley has been held to answer to the Superior Court on the charge of assault with a deadly weapon, with intent to commit murder. The men were wood choppers employed on the J. K. Bigelow ranch, near Sonoma, and after a quarrel in the cabin had apparently patched up their differences.
Maloney subsequently went into the kitchen of the cabin, and there Riley is alleged to have followed and made the assault with the axe. A gaping wound nine inches in length was made on the breast of Maloney. Tbe wonder is that the man was not killed by the blow from the axe.
Riley fled, but was captured later in the night in a box car at El Verano. He was asleep when Constable Joe Ryan found him, but made no denial of his guilt.
Before Justice J. B. Small of Sonoma the preliminary examination of Riley was held Wednesday afternoon. District Attorney Clarence F. Lea and Court Reporter Harry A. Scott were present from this city.
- Santa Rosa Republican, January 28, 1909
LAWYERS FALL OUT AND HAVE A FIGHT
Attorneys L. G. Scott and Joseph Rafael, exponents of the law of Sebastopol, having been mixed up in a manner decidedly contrary to law. Rafael struck Scott, and the latter alleges it was without cause or excuse. Rafael paid the sum of ten dollars in Justice Harry B. Morris' court having been arrested on a charge of battery, which was later raised to a higher misdemeanor, Rafael alleged that Scott had attempted to strike him with a hammer, but this is indignantly denied by Scott. The latter admits having had in his possession a small tack hammer, but denies he ever thought of using it on Rafael's cranium or any other portion of his anatomy.
- Santa Rosa Republican, July 22, 1909
No anarchists were in 1908 Santa Rosa, but it seemed like they were under rocks everywhere else in America that spring as new incidents of terrorism kept roiling through the headlines. If you read the Press Democrat along with one of the San Francisco newspapers, here's what you knew:
The terror spree began late February in Denver, when an anarchist gunned down a Catholic priest during mass. A few days later, it was reported nationwide that "Denver police are working on theory of a plot," in part because a witness saw "two foreigners, apparently Italians, at the church, one of whom pointed out the clergyman." Police discovered that the Italian killer was part of a gang of forty anarchists who had recently come to America, and men in six other cities were part of the plot.
On the very same day as the priest's funeral, a young man rang the doorbell of George Shippy, Chicago's chief of police. Shippy was immediately suspicious; the mayor had just banned famed anarchist Emma Goldman from speaking in Chicago, and authorities expected retaliation. The police chief grabbed the visitor and ordered his wife to search for weapons. A scuffle resulted and the chief's adult son and chauffeur raced into the room. Shots were fired, and the son and driver were wounded. The visitor was struck by six bullets and soon died. Police quickly linked him to an anarchist group and a plot to also assassinate the mayor and captain of the detective bureau.
Rumors flew that the attacks on the Denver priest and Chicago police chief were part of a single conspiracy. In the weeks that followed, police were posted at Catholic churches in Chicago and elsewhere, and police chiefs in several cities received death threats.
The Secretary of Commerce and Labor directed immigration inspectors to work with local police to round up and deport suspected anarchists, a move applauded by newspapers nationwide. The Washington Post went furthest and called for "the scum of foreign countries" to be executed. The government suppressed an anarchist newspaper and President Roosevelt personally ordered the postmaster general to ban another publication from the U.S. mails. Teddy denounced anarchists as "the enemies of mankind" and their philosophy "an offense far more infamous than that of ordinary murder."
At the end of March came the worst violence yet, as a card-carrying anarchist tried to throw a bomb into a crowd of policemen who were maintaining order in New York's Union Square following a "desperate socialistic riot." The explosive went off in the bomb-maker's hands instead, maiming him fatally and killing a bystander. Identified as a "Williamsburg Anarchist" (a section of Brooklyn said to be a hotbed for socialists and anarchists), the police searched his rooms and found letters from famed anarchists Alexander Berkman and Emma Goldman. To many, this was proof of a wide-reaching terror conspiracy against the United States.
Those were the facts as you believed them from reading the newspapers available in Santa Rosa, March, 1908. But here's the believe-it-or-not twist: By the end of the month, every single actual link to the anarchist movement was proven false.
 | The man who murdered the Denver priest said in a rambling first statement - translated from Italian, since he spoke no English - that he killed the Catholic priest because he really, really, hated Catholic priests: "I have grudge against all priests in general...my only regret is that I couldn't have shot a whole bunch of priests in the church." He told authorities that if he hadn't been apprehended he was intending to visit four other churches and kill the priests there. Was he an anarchist? In another statement, he explained his political views were guided by the elderly shoemaker whom he had served as an apprentice in Sicily: "I had been inclined to anarchy, but I never understood its teachings thoroughly." The reporter also noted "his talk is not coherent and he is evidently inventing stories as he goes along--stories that do not fit together." |
| In Chicago, the coroner found that police chief Shippy had killed his would-be assassin in self defense. The jury heard no testimony that the deceased was an anarchist, despite stories that had appeared in the press describing in great detail his role in a conspiracy (San Francisco Call headline: "CHICAGO REDS IN BIG MURDER PLOT"). Shippy said he had premonitions that someone would try to kill him, and testified that he was suspicious of the man because he thought he saw the bulge of a weapon under his coat, and "he looked to me like an anarchist...there was overspread his face the most vindictive look I ever saw upon a human countenance." (According to the New York Times' coverage, another reason for suspicion was because "[he] apparently had dressed himself for death. He wore black clothes and overcoat, a new hat, and clean linen, all of fairly good quality.") No evidence was presented that the bullets that wounded Shippy's son and driver were shot by the visitor and not Shippy himself, firing wildly. The reason for the visit remains a mystery today, but the best explanation was that Lazarus Averbuch, a Russian Jew, was planning to return to his homeland and wanted to ask the chief of police for a letter stating that he was not a criminal, as was the custom when leaving a European city. Chief Shippy did not return to his position and resigned two months later. He died in 1911 from syphilis, the final stage of which can result in hallucinations and paranoia. |
| The Union Square bomber was not connected to the demonstration earlier that day, when mounted police had brutally suppressed a crowd of up to 25,000 who had gathered to protest the desperate unemployment situation. (Because of the 1907 bank panic, unemployment in New York state had reached 36 percent, with 200,000 estimated to be out of work in New York City alone.) The bomber instead was a 19 year-old Russian immigrant who had lived in the U.S. most of his life and who had a grudge against police because he had been recently clubbed by an officer. "The police are no good," he said before he died of his wounds a month later. "I hate them. I am sorry that I did not make good...It was the police that I wanted." The incriminating letters found in his apartment from anarchist leaders turned out to be mimeographed fund-raising appeals. |
But not many knew that the anarchy conspiracy was bunk; few papers at the time ever published followup articles to correct errors, no matter how whopping. The public was left with the assumption that a dangerous cabal of murderous anarchists was plotting an ongoing campaign of terror. In truth, by 1908 the winds of anarchism had mostly blown through in America, with only six newsletters nationwide - and one of them lasting only a single issue. Of that dwindly group of true believers, only a tiny sliver still advocated violence as a means to an end. No one was deported under the Secretary of Commerce and Labor's anarchy crackdown edict.
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In those days the Press Democrat didn't offer much coverage of national news events except for a paragraph or so on the front page; for the attacks blamed on anarchists, the PD offered four short items, an op/ed reprinted from another paper and the three inflammatory editorial cartoons shown here. No updates corrected the wildly inaccurate earlier stories, but again, that was typical. Readers nationwide were left with the muddled impression that anarchists, certain immigrants, organized labor, and anti-clerical fanatics all fit under the same umbrella of "Reds." Most dishonest of all was trying to also wedge in the large Socialist Party - the PD's wire story about the Union Square unemployment protest called it a "desperate socialistic riot...of the anarchists," for example. The main threat the Party posed was to the Democratic/Republican status quo, as over 420,000 ballots were cast later that year for the Socialist presidential candidate, about three percent of the popular vote.
If scholars wanted to pinpoint the beginning of the Red Scare that consumed the remainder of the American 20th century, March 1908 would be a good choice. (This was also the year that there were fears that Japan was planning to invade.) The country was so riven with fear of anarchist bogeymen that the Indiana town of Wawaka (pop. 800) received a letter demanding $750 or the whole town would be blown up. The letter was signed "Anarchists." Unbelievably, this obvious prank was taken seriously.
Make no mistake: The phony anarchist scare was entirely the fault of yellow journalism and not an actual threat. Nor was it a scheme by the government, police, church, or politicians to demonize the "Reds," although each of these groups made stuff up or repeated rumor as fact. But at the same time, those organizations benefited by channeling the public's fear into more popular support for violent police suppression of protest and free speech by reformers. And that in turn generated more headlines about the lurking Red Menace. A classic analysis of this period, "The Search for Order," sums up how the country became more divided as a result:
| "Straws in the wind appeared everywhere around 1908. Critics who had only grumbled about national reform earlier now cried "socialism" and "communism.' Organized labor received particularly heavy abuse, with each hint of violence reported as the first gun of civil war...the various organizations that brought unionists and businessmen together for conversation and adjustment were dying from disuse. In grays rather than purples, the atmosphere surrounding labor relations darkened a bit year by year." |
RECOMMENDED FOR FURTHER READING
America, 1908 by Jim Rasenberger
The Anarchist Scare of 1908 by Robert J. Goldstein
The Search for Order, 1877-1920 by Robert H. Wiebe
Even before Konocti Harbor became synonymous with oldie rock bands, the North Bay was a popular stop for fading has-beens. In the first decade of the 20th century, not a single top name musical act played near Santa Rosa, with the arguable exception of John Philip Sousa's Band in 1904 (and even his group could be viewed as an oldies touring band, as the March King's glory days had passed). Instead, the little theaters north of the Golden Gate churned through a procession of unpolished - and often cringe worthy - vaudeville acts, novelty athletic exhibitions such as the man who roller skated on stilts, and those geriatric tours of names once famous on Victorian stages, back 20, 30, even 40 years before.
One group that played Santa Rosa in 1908 had been quite famous less than a decade earlier: The Richards & Pringles Original Georgia Minstrels. The Press Democrat interviewed their manager, asking if he had read a recent newspaper article about declining audiences for minstrel shows. Manager Jack Holland predictably dismissed the idea as "the veriest rot," conceding that a few minstrel touring companies had folded, but the recent theatrical season had been rough for everyone. "The good old style of entertainment still holds a warm place in the hearts of the American people," he assured the reporter.
Some of this was braggadocio and whistling past the graveyard; minstrel shows were being slowly squeezed out by the modern and always-changing vaudeville bills, as discussed here in an earlier essay. The Richards & Pringles show wouldn't fold until around 1916, and a few companies would hang on for another two decades beyond that, booking halls in smaller and smaller rural communities in the Deep South and performing for audiences that were mostly African-American.
Sadly, the PD interview with manager Holland begins with that single insipid question and ends with his predictable and banal answer. Even a Journalism 101 student today would have probed a bit, and realized that this man had stories enough to fill the newspaper for days. (Nor was this the only time that year a clueless local reporter had flubbed the shot at a big, newsmaking interview.) Jack had worked for several circuses before becoming an agent for Richards & Pringles, and by the turn of the century, he and his financial partner simultaneously owned that famous minstrel troupe and three others, all using only African-American performers. For showmen they were remarkably successful, and that should have led an astute reporter to drill down to the fundamental questions: Why is your famous company playing a dinky theater in a remote California farm town? Where's Billy Kersands? And where were you on that night in Missouri, six years ago?
John Holland started working for Richards & Pringles in 1891, about three years after the company was founded. Billy Kersands was already the star of the show. Holland greatly owed the success of his shows to this black showman, who was possibly the most charismatic stage performer of the late 19th century and could be considered the first crossover act, as wildly popular with black audiences as white. Kersands was renowned as a comic genius and also created - or at least, popularized - a dancing style known as "Virginia Essence," which was the direct ancestor of tap dance. He was universally admired and respected; when the group toured England and Europe, Queen Victoria awarded him a diamond pin. A good biography - and a Ken Burns-quality documentary, even a motion picture (he looked remarkably like Eddie Murphy) - is long overdue.
The money-making Kersands/Holland machine might have chugged along for another decade if not for what happened February 16, 1902, on the outskirts of New Madrid, Missouri. A day earlier, the Richards & Pringles company had come to town and that afternoon, a few well-dressed black performers were taking a stroll when a couple of local young men began pelting them with snowballs. One of the performers cussed at them. At the sold-out performance that night, local youths heckled the performers and at the end of the show, charged the stage. One of the minstrels fired a revolver and at once there were a half-dozen guns firing in both directions. The audience panicked but when order was restored, the only serious injury was a bullet in the leg of a performer. Members of the troupe suspected of firing weapons were taken to jail, where they were beaten. The next evening, mask-wearing men attacked the sheriff's office. The mob singled out Louis F. Wright, a 22 year-old trombone player, as the performer who began the shooting. He was dragged from his cell and hanged from a tree at the edge of town. His body was cut down the next morning and shipped C.O.D. to his mother. No one was arrested for involvement with the murder. Wright's friends and family in Chicago raised money for a lawyer to sue the county, but nothing apparently came of it.
A one -paragraph AP wire story on the lynching appeared in many newspapers, including the San Francisco Call, but there was no followup in the press about the incident, much less comment from the owners or players in the troupe. Judging by ads found in digitized newspaper archives - always a hit-or-miss proposition - the company had few bookings for the rest of the season, and almost all of them were in Northern cities with no habit of lynching black men: Places like Minneapolis, Seattle, and Salt Lake City. When they ventured again into the Deep South at the end of the year, their newspaper advertisements downplayed the Richards & Pringles brand, most of the ad space filled with a photo of Billy's big grin.
Kersands might not have been in New Madrid that night; some sources place him working that year at another of Holland's touring groups, "Rusco & Holland's Big Minstrel Festival." Nonetheless, he severed all ties with Jack Holland's minstrel empire at the end of the 1902-1903 season. He next performed a solo act, headlined in a stage comedy and formed "Billy Kersands' Minstrels." Later with his wife he renamed the troupe "Billy and Louise Kersands' Minstrels," and he broke from the minstrel tradition to create a variety show that was the precursor to vaudeville. (In an interesting switch, it was reported that whites were segregated into a corner of the balcony at these performances.) That he was also the owner of these shows and traveled on his private railway car was unprecedented for an African-American entertainer .
Billy Kersands died in 1915, immediately after closing an engagement in New Mexico. He was 73 and had spent the greater part of fifty years in the spotlight. Newspaper clippings showed he toured major cities in the East and Midwest in his last decade, but reference books are contradictory as to his movements and success (one otherwise-respected source has him performing for Queen Victoria nine years after her death). At the time Jack Holland was being interviewed by the Press Democrat in 1908, he was again part of a traditional minstrel show, headlining for the "Dandy Dixie Minstrels" in a swing through small cities in the Texas panhandle and adjoining states. But that doesn't mean his stardom was in descent; at the same time, a top white vaudeville act, The Three Leightons, were performing an ersatz minstrel routine that centered upon an imitation of Kersands.
Between the 1902 lynching and its closure in 1916, the Richards & Pringles Minstrel Show apparently rarely performed below the Mason-Dixon Line. Perhaps Southern theater owners were skittish that local yokels would want to "finish the job" and string up other members of the company, or maybe they feared that the African-American performers were troublemakers. For whatever reason, the show toured mainly in the West, Southwest, and Upper Plains states, where audiences would be mainly white.
So this was this answer to the question that the Press Democrat reporter didn't ask: They were in Santa Rosa because they now just performed outside the South in places where a sentimental view of "Dixie" prevailed. And without a bi-racial audience, they undoubtedly cut or "whitened up" sections of the program that appealed directly to blacks, leaving only a parody of the original show with a supersized portion of racism. What appeared here was probably more like "A Tribute to the Richards & Pringles Original Georgia Minstrels," not so different from those ghost bands that tour under a once-famous name. Had they stuck around another seventy years, they undoubtedly would've been playing at Konocti.
JACK HOLLAND TALKS ON MINSTRELSY
A reporter recently met "Jack Holland," for many years the business manager of Richards & Pringles famous minstrels who appear here on Monday night, and called his attention to an article in a recent issue of a metropolitan paper on the decadence of minstrelsy as a form of entertainment.
Mr. Holland replied with a smile: "Oh, yes, I read the article with a great deal of amusement. Every once in a while you will read an article by some misinformed writer about the passing of the minstrel show. That Americans have tired of the form of amusement that used to make their grandfathers, and yes, even their great grandfathers, laughed till the tears rolled down their cheeks.
"But such talk is the veriest rot. Minstrelsy was never in a more flourishing condition than at this very day.
"This is a progressive age, and one must keep abreast of the times if he is catering to the public. The season of 1907-08 was a particularly disastrous one. Scores and scores of dramatic shows and musical comedies were obliged to close for lack of patronage. Very few indeed were the minstrel shows that gave up the fight. There were two or three minstrel shows closed, to be sure, but they were inferior companies, and scarcely worthy [of] the name.
"None of the leading organizations closed, which proves conclusively that the good old style of entertainment still holds a warm place in the hearts of the American people."
- Press Democrat, October 31, 1908
Rule of thumb: While you're getting beat up, it's never a good idea to become trapped in a barber's chair.
The brawl that started at the Blue Wing saloon in downtown Santa Rosa spilled over into the barber shop next door. One fighter was caught in the chair, where his leg was broken in two places and an arm broken as well. So frenetic was the action that even someone who tried to break up the scuffle was thought to have a broken arm.
BONES BROKEN IN A FIGHT
George Cogswell Sustains Several Injuries
In a fight at the Blue Wing saloon at First and Main streets Sunday afternoon between George Cogswell and James Campion, the former sustained a number of broken bones. One of his legs was broken in two places, and he is said to have also had one bone of his right arm broken. He became entangled in a barber chair and it was while thus entangled that the bones of the leg were broken. The man's injuries were dressed by Dr. J. W. Jesse after which he was taken to his home near this city.
A peacemaker, who endeavored to separate the combatants, was also injured, and for a time it was believed he had sustained a broken arm.- Santa Rosa Republican, November 16, 1908
FIGHT IN BARBER SHOP
The fight Sunday evening in which George Cogswell sustained a broken leg took place in a barber shop adjoining the Blue Wing saloon. S. H. McKee, of the Blue Wing, declares this barber shop has no connection with the business whatever.- Santa Rosa Republican, November 19, 1908
Sounds of summer night, Santa Rosa 1907: Crickets, someone's barking dog, lowing of cattle in the stockyard, a freight train whistle, the blamma-blamma of two guys shooting away at each other at close range outside a popular downtown restaurant. Note to the next Broadway producer who revives "The Music Man:" Clue us in that most of the respectable citizens in those cute little nostalgic towns usually carried loaded pistols.
In one of the most sensational events of the year, 31 year-old barber Andy Carrillo was out late Friday night and discovered his wife drunk, apparently flirting with another man. Carrillo socked him in the face and drew blood; the man stumbled back into the restaurant. A friend of the bleeding man charged outside and hit Carrillo who drew his pistol, shooting this man in the chest. Carrillo fired a second shot that broke a window and grazed the cheek of Frank Miller, yet another man inside the restaurant. Miller charged outside with his own gun drawn. He and Carrillo fired at each other at point blank range, but mirabile dictu, neither of them were wounded, and the man shot in the chest was not seriously injured. Carrillo fled with Miller still firing away. Police arrived and began searching for Carrillo, who they found hiding in his bed as if nothing were amiss.
Carrillo was out the next day on $1,000 bail, which was paid in part by saloon man Jake Luppold. It was decided he would appear in Superior Court on charges of assault with a deadly weapon. His wife Jennie, meanwhile, was sentenced to 30 days in jail "as a result of being drunk the night in question."
When the case came to trial, no details were disputed except that the man allegedly hit in the face by Carrillo testified "he was not certain who had struck him." But after three ballots the jury could not decide on guilt, although the votes always leaned heavily towards acquittal.
Why Carrillo was able to shoot someone in the chest yet even not be found guilty of assault is a mystery. Also odd is that his wife served a month in jail for drunkenness, while the usual sentence at the time was 10-14 days. Another woman arrested for public drunkenness paid $5.00 and no jail time, according to the October 29 Republican, and a man arrested the same day was sentenced to five days in jail because he could not pay the $5 fine.
FIGHT DUEL AT EARLY HOUR ON THIRD STREET
Andy Carrillo Engages in Desperate Battle
W. N. Hall Shot in Breast and Frank Miller in Face During Melee Resulting From Attack on Charles Majors
Andy Carrillo who had just shot W. N. Hall fought a pistol duel in front of the Campi restaurant [on Third street, near the corner of B -ed.] shortly before one o'clock this morning with Frank Miller. Both men marvelously escaped injury and although Carrillo escaped from the scene quickly and hid at home he was captured by Officers Yeager and Lindley and locked up in the county jail within half an hour.
There had been a banquet in progress at the Campi, which about 45 members of the Bricklayers and Plasterers' Union were attending. Mrs. Jennie Carrillo, who was under the influence of liquor, had been hanging about the place trying to interest some of the men without result. Finally Charles Majors went out to go home, but discovered that his wheel had been stolen. He reported the loss to the men inside and returned to the walk. Mrs. Carrillo was talking to him when her husband came around the corner and seeing them together walked up and struck Majors a brutal blow in the face, laying open a great gash in his cheek.
Majors rushed back into the restaurant with blood streaming from his face, and when his companions were told of the assault they rushed out with W. N. Hall in the lead. When Hall reached the sidewalk he was met by Carrillo who he struck for assaulting Majors. Carrillo jumped back, drew his revolver and fired at Hall, the bullet striking him just over and dangerously near the heart [then] crashed through the window in the restaurant, imbedding itself in the wall. Hall jumped behind a tree and the others not being armed rushed back. Carrillo fired another shot which passed through the window grazing Frank Miller's cheek.
Miller, who was back in the restaurant, was forcing his way to the door and in an instant was face to face with Carrillo. Seeing him with a weapon Miller pulled his and the two fired almost instantaneously. That one or both were not hit seems marvelous, as they were right upon one another. Carrillo turned and ran up Third street and Miller again fired at him without effect.
Officer Yeager was standing in front of Germania Hall at the time and rushed to the scene of the shooting at once. Officer Lindley and Skaggs were eating supper in the Boston restaurant and were on the scene within a few moments. Their first effort was to capture Carrillo, and taking the direction of his disappearance a hurried run was made up through First, Second, and Third streets as far as E and back. Then Yeager proposed that Carrillo's home be examined. He and Officer Lindley went to the house, where after some delay the door was opened. Carrillo was found and placed under arrest and taken to the county jail where he was locked up.
Dr. Jesse was called and arrived on the scene in his auto within a few minutes. He took Majors and Hall to his office where he dressed their wounds. Neither are dangerously injured, but it was a close call for Hall. The bullet struck him a glancing blow which saved his life. He remained at the restaurant for some time after the affair discussing it with other members of the union. Miller's face was cut by the bullet which narrowly missed ending his life before he left the restaurant.
- Press Democrat, July 28, 1907
CARRILLO IS FACING JURY
Charged With Assault With a Deadly Weapon
Andy Carrillo, charged with assault with a deadly weapon, was brought to trial Wednesday before Judge Emmet Seawell and a jury. The jury is composed of...
...The first witness was Charles W. Majors, who narrated how he had been banged in the face when he started out of the restaurant where the shooting occurred on the night of the alleged offense. Majors declares he was not certain who had struck him. He returned to the restaurant with blood streaming from his face, and this sight broke up the banquet which was being enjoyed there.
Fred Forget, the second witness, testified to being at the banquet. He saw Majors come in covered with blood, and with other rushed out to the front door of the restaurant. Outside the witness saw Andy Carrillo standing with his hands in his pockets. Walter Hall forged ahead of witness and Carrillo raised his hand containing weapon, and with a string of oaths began firing. Hall need no air breaks [sic] to stop the speed at which he was traveling toward Carrillo. He reversed himself quickly and sped into the restaurant. He had walked right out, turned right around and run back in again.
Hall followed Forget in the narrative being give the jury, and his version of the affair tallied exactly with that of Forget.
Officer I. N. Lindley and Chief of Police Fred J. Rushmore testified to the arrest of Carrillo and the finding of the weapon with which the shooting had been done. Rushmore testified the weapon was still warm when he picked it up in Carrillo's room on First street.
- Santa Rosa Republican, December 11, 1907
THE CARRILLO JURY FAILS TO AGREE
Discharged by Judge Seawell Thursday Night--Stood 10 for Acquittal, 2 for Conviction
The jury in the case of the state against Andy Carrillo failed to reach a unanimous verdict in Judge Seawell's department of the Superior Court and was discharged by the court in the evening when the jurors had announced that it would be impossible for them to agree.
The first ballot taken by the jurors after they had retired was eight for acquittal and four for conviction. Then it was nine for acquittal and three for conviction. Then it went to ten for acquittal and two for conviction, and this is how the jury hung.
The case went to the jury after arguments by District Attorney Clarence Lea and Attorney T. J. Butts, and the instructions of the court, about half past three. The jurors asked to have certain portions of the testimony read to them, and for this purpose were brought into court twice. When supper time came they were taken to the California Oyster Market for supper, accompanied by Deputy Sheriff Don McIntosh. After supper they returned to court and remained in their room until discharged.
- Press Democrat, December 13, 1907
Violent deaths were almost weekly news in Sonoma County a century ago, but I've never encountered a story quite as disturbing as this. Usually the cause is accidental death by stupidity (falling asleep on the railroad tracks) or gruesome suicide, such as the lumberjack and father of five in Occidental who chopped his head open with an axe then disemboweled himself (yet still lived for two days). This tale, however, reminds me of Frank Norris' great novel "McTeague," as a situation pinwheeled completely out of control.
In summary: A Santa Rosa carpenter and his wife visited a man near Cloverdale. They all drank a few glasses of wine. Mr. Cloverdale offered beer, which his guests refused. That made Cloverdale angry, and he threw the glasses and cussed at them. A fight ensued, and the carpenter smashed the other man's skull with his fists. Amazingly, the coroner's jury ruled it to be self defense.
SAYS HE ACTED IN SELF DEFENSE
Bilderdack Will Probably Not Be Prosecuted For the Fatal Beating He Gave J. McMillen
It is probable that there will be no prosecution of J. Bilderdack, the Santa Rosa carpenter, who administered a beating to J. P. McMillen, from which the latter died on the Brown ranch, a few miles from Cloverdale last Sunday night. At the inquest it was shown by evidence that Bilderdack had to fight for his life before he beat McMillen into insensibility. The Coroner's jury found that McMillen died from the blows inflicted by Bilderdack. At the conclusion of the inquest Bilderdack was allowed to have his liberty, and he has left the scene of the occurrence. At the inquest he was represented by Attorney George W. Hoyle of Cloverdale.
According to the statements made by Bilderdack and other witnesses they had gone to the carpenter's cabin to have some wine and several toasts were proposed. Finally when Bilderdack refused to drink any more McMillen poured out two glasses of wine and demanded that he and his wife drink it anyway. In order to have harmony they drank the wine, and then McMillen is said to have seized a bottle of beer and filled the glasses with the beverage. This the Bilderdacks say they positively declined to consume and this angered McMillen more than ever and he is said to have thrown both glasses and its contents at Bilderdack and to have followed it up with some abusive language directed towards Bilderdack and his wife. Then the fight was on and Bilderdack avers that he had to defend himself. McMillen died several hours after the beating. The injuries causing death were blows beside the head.- Press Democrat, September 14, 1906