The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, February 19, 1899, Page 19

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 1899 g 19 Owenty-Five Years’ Cxperience As a Shotgun Wlessenger 4 Reason E. McConnell, Who was Recently Held Up by Stage Robbers and Escaped From Them After an Exchange of Shots, Recounts Some of His Adventures. In the early days, bering stage coaches were the means of transportation for passengers and valuables, the “road agent” was a| xed feature in the life of the great West They were a regular bonanza of the mountains was first disturbed | Br: by the miner's pick and the treasure was being shipped out of the moun- wcisco and other set- tair 1 F tlements. n occasional report from the moun- | tain counties of a stage robbery serves to remind the public that the mountain | bandit still exists, and that the rail- to § s not entirely replaced the old | e vehicle as a means of com- cation with the miners. C last week the news came down from Jack- gon that two desperate robbers had at- | tacked the driver and ‘“shotgun” | guard as the Jackson and Ione stage was bowling down the mountain side near a point known as Slate Rock. The story of this attempt has again brought before the public a heroic fig- | ure “who has ridden with Wells- Fargo's treasure boxes for a quarter of a century and carried them through adventures both numerous and excit- | g This man cason B. Me- | Connell. guard he was in his accustomed place, as the stage own the grade, on the seat by driver, with his trusty gun, well charged with buci his ar idenl 1st as the men on the s ‘were ‘opposite the ‘big black roc n rose up and let drive at them with ad of BB shot. McConnell and the ver were both struck. The major- it 1 of the bullets pa , but some st iV left filled wi his overcoat the als 2 of the m nger was | t hand dropped be- | and as he glanced | sin_a second = B while urvey of the nded by set the hc ssenger could ¢ bers the Stage a wild ride down h man had but blood was run- 1d freezing in the . Each man grasped uninjured hand, but less to check the team ing the stage to os they were all gh seat dashing into men on the box, od and with clothes v bul, presented a t gight. The plucky messenger sist in hunting down | mento On July 4.1 er train ched kton and Copperopolis | > from the le be- ne Hill and the railroad | along on the| stopped | dly had the complied. 2700 for his the from s County, e o Ferguson & McConr never met this , but his name proved to be h 5, 1872, a bandit named topped McConnell at the same named Jarvi man th in his ove fourths of out and le Jarvis, gave the com- d hands up.” He then | to throw out box, quick,” in the away the d > robber cailed out, if you look back here r later ventured another| Lawton made good his threat The bullet cut the long company Th r the of not ov: ut it paid $500 for the > robber and gave McCon- hich he still ear- was Bob | -d » window ¢ out the fellow w r was making the » man waiting dov robber was at hi iver found him ve fires. h E hooter and | r to go ahead and he At the same time tvould fix th the robher his gun. The T the ominous: cli ¢ directions. About | old man Wheat of Double rtook the stz He was on | McConnell hastily told Wh there w robber down the road waiting for | them. He then told Everson to get out and get behind a tree, as his presenee | In the coach with a disposition to fight | might cause the robber to fire on his | wife and child. Wheat said he would ride around and take up a position on thé hill in or¢ e that the robber did not get aw McConnell told his | men to hold th till he se- | cured further aid, and wheeling his| was soon jolting back over horses he He got Captain | ad to America. the r Tyler and some other men, three guns In all arted back to the scene W seen the man wash his face “ind then disappeared in the chaparral, | The driver then went to Jennv Lind | and found considerable trouble in zet- | tiig Constable Trenton to organize a p and ro to the scene. Having got the posse on the trail, the driver took | Everson and his family on through to Milton. When he got back the man 1d been captured, sixteen being in at round up. A member of the posse shot the fellow with a shotgun. in- ing a bad but not fatal wound. gave him some whisky, and when ame to asked him to have another| when the big, lum- | drink, but he replied: sole | never State prison under the name of Law- ton. and No, thanks. I drink.” The man went to the McConnell first met Black Bart dur- ing Christmas week of 1876 at Billings, one mile from Elkhorn station. for the bandits when the virgin wealth | ¢ He had ly one passenger, a man named ndt Greely, but there was $7000 in £& (ONHELLS «The Stage Was Stopped by a Lone Highwayman, Who Asked for the the treasure box, tax money going to San Andreas. When held up, the driver threw out a strong box which contained hing but way bills, and on being re- ed took the stage through an hour a half ahead of time, with noth- ng but some letters and wa ir most interesting adven- At Reynolds Ferry there was a v named Rogalira, with which > quite friendly. shot, and eve Bart had the! the The about Novembe he had see rformed the b on the up trip tha nice deer, and on being y the voungster that he was out of ammunition took him a box of car- zes the next trip. The boy got on ze, and about quarter of a scene where the adven- ok place, got off to hunt awhile, then to return The driver w: nt or the horses ed clump of tr their ears une y. McConnell sized up situati>n and saw some one mov- n the brush. The fellow had s on his feet, another dropped down over his head with eye holes pro- vided, and over this an old slouch hat. The robber came bold out now, but stepped sidewise across the road, evi- dently being on the lookout for some one he supposed was behind the stage. “What are you looking for?” asked McConnell. “I want to know where that man is that minutes ago,” flour sacks. “Oh, he was only a boy looking for his cows. He has gone home,” turned the driver. “Wall, then, get down and unhitch your team,” commanded the robber, still looking suspiciously down the road. After some work the team was got out and|Bart went to the brush and got his tools. He pointed the gun at McConnell and ordered him to hurry up. The driver, thinking the robber in- tended to blow up the strong box, got the team around a turn in the road. vas on the seat with you a few returned the man in the latter being easily dupl ik Hill, four miles out from | polis, McConnell and Black re- | Looking across country he saw the boy | with the gun. Black Bart was at work on the box now and was hammering away with a great deal of noise. It must have attracted the attention of the boy, as he glanced back and re- sponded to the driver’s signal to return. Securing the gun, McConnell told the boy to follow. He crept along through \ \ Treasure=Box.”” the brush and saw Bart leisurely leav- ] ing the scene with_his gun under one | arm and a sackful of treasure under the | other. The driver got a bead on the | fellow and then fired. Bart glanced | hastily around and made two or three | By the time a sec- the robber was big jumps forward. | ona’shot was ready | tacking his course toward a clump of | brush. It wi afterward found that | the first shet had cut the lapels of | Bart’s two coats and taken off a vest | button. Bart then ran and got out of | range of the fighting driver. The boy, | however, exclaimed that he coumid get his range, and, taking the gun, fired | a shot. The pursuers got within sixty vards of Bart before he was lost in tha brush. As the robber ran the driver saw him drep something, which after- ward proved to be a handkerchief. Mc- Connell picked it up and also the rob- ber’s tools, which, with the broken treasure boxes, were taken on to Cop- peropolis as fast as the team could pull the stage. McConnell reported the affair first to Sheriff Thorn of Calaveras County and then to J. B. Hume. Orrin Langmaid and Thacker with Tom Cunningham’s bloodhounds arrived at 2 o'clock Sun- day morning. When Thacker found the laundry marks on the handkerchief he remarked to McConnell: “That will land his becat.” On July 29 of that year Dorsey and Shinn stopped McConnell at Funk Hill. They got an empty box and a few dol- lars from a passenger. McConnell got so used to getting robbed, or rather be- ing stopped that he ceased to make anything but a mental note of it | Other drivers and messengers would | lose money and get killed on other lines, but he bore a charmed existence and never in his twenty-five years’ ex- perience was he injured until last week. Black Bart robbed his first stage in | July, 1875, and John Shine, the present | United States Marshal, was the driver. | He robbed his last near the same place | on November 3, 1883, and McConnell was the driver. Shine and McConnell are great friends and spin yarns by the hour when they get together now. | Shine has had experiences similar to those of McConnell. Four men once stopped him at Browns Flat, between | Columbia and Sonora. ‘During the at- | tempt of one of the robbers to enter a sleepy passenger pushed the fellow off the brake, thinking him a tramp. The robber’s gun went off and the team started. Shine urged them forward and got away with the treasure. The robbers in the brush shot the bow off immediately behind him. John was on the go, however, and hit only the high places on the run.to Columbia. This was before daybreak. He has had many other adventures and carries a Wells-Fargo watch. —_— A coin recently discovered in Paris, the property of a well known numismatist, M. Boyer d’Agen, has attracted much atten- tion, as it is believed that it is of the Mes- sianic period, and worn by Jewish Chris- tians in Jerusalem during the first cen- tury after Christ. On one side of the coin there is a portrait of the Savior, with the name of Jesus in Hebrew letters; on the reverse this motto: “The Messiah, the King, will come in peace. He is the in- carnate living light of men.” Later research shows that there is al- most an exact duplicate of this coia in an English collection. This coin has a curious history. It was unearthed in 1812 in County Cork, Ireland, by a girl while digging for potatoes. The plece is of bronze. On one side is the head of Christ; on the other, in Hebrew: “The Messiah | has reigned. He came in peace, and being | made the light of man, he lives.” Numismatists agree that this coin must be of great antiquity, because there is no nimbus around the head, the aureole hav- ing come into Christian art after the sev- | enth centur: ORANGE GROVES Frozen IN FLORIDA. Special to The Sunday Call. ELAND, Fla., Feb. 16.—Since the frosts of 1895 and 189 Florida orange growers have begun to realize that if they would make orange growing an assured suc- cess they must in some way guard against the uncertain visits of Jack Frost. To have a crop of fruit worth thousands of dollars completely at the mercy of the temperature, with the knowledge that a fall of a few degrees during a cold snap may, in an hour, convert deliclous oranges into solid balls of ice, or even Kkill his trees to the ground, making them useless for several years to come, is a situation which causes the grove owner many Charles amaijy Smeth Gells | Fow to Succeed in Chis World The Postmaster General Was Remarkably Successful in a Number of Avocations and Never Stopped Till He Had Worked His Way to the Forefront of Public Men. Postmaster General Charles Emory Smith, now reaping the richest re- wards of journalism and statesmanship, has fulfilled the ambition of his boyhood. The boy editor and orator has by constancy and concentration achieved brilliant success along the very lines he laid down as a lad. Each step in a career full of interest has carried him higher. Mr. Smith began life, as he told Horace Greeley, “a country editor. “In all these years, as Minister to Blaine and McKinley, as platform writer and Cabinet officer, been your words?” he was asked. “Concentration and constancy.” Special to The Sunday Call. HE first seven years of my life were spent on a farm near Mans- field, Conn. That the farm exer- cised any particular influence on me I am unaware, unless it was to breed a distinct resolve not to be a farmer. From the time I began to read and think of the future I wanted to be a journalist or a lawyer, to achieve the right to have my name mentioned among public characters. My parents removed to Albany, N. Y., in 1849, and soon afterward the first indications of my decided bent came. I had not been at the Albany Acad- emy long before I started my first newspaper, the Academy Record, one copy to the edition, all written out by hand, but made up as far as possible like the printed newspapers of the day. By this time I had decided that journal- jsm was my goal; the law was no long- er in question. When I tried to find out what I should do to fit myself specially for the career I had selected, I groped in the dark. Journalism was not a pro- fession; nor had the intimate relations of to-day been at that time established between journalism and statesmanship. I felt sure, however, that Horace Gree- ley was a model for any boy. I knew he must be a scholar as well as a sleepless nights during the winter months. der fayorable conditions that the growers, instead of becoming discouraged by the recent setbacks, are now casting about for some cheap and sure means of protecting their trees. Many are the schemes devised and the experiments being tried this winter, with the result that the winter visitor finds many of the old groves robbed of their picturesque beauty, some of them with piles of lightwood knots stacked between the rows of trees, ready to be lighted whenever the mercury gets dangerously close to the freezing point, while many younger groves are almost hidden from view with sand; the trees being “banked up,” with perhaps a branch or two stick- ing out here and there, to remind one that there is vegetable life below. These, however, are only _the more simple meags of protection, for, as one drives through the country: he'will sce many more elaborate methods in use. In some groves are row after row of sheet- iron stoves, all filled with wood and ready for the match. One planter has more than 500 stoves in his orchards. But these, while they raise the temperature enough on a still night, might not be ef- fective if there was a high wind, so the more cautious growers are covering their trees up entirely, either with cloth or waterproof paper, tacked on wooden frames and to be ‘warmed within by oil lamps or heater made especially for this purpose. These groves, with their long rows of white tents, look more like mili- tary camps than afything horticultural; and on a_cold night, when the tents are all lighted up within, and the grove tend. ers v::mngl around like silent sentrymen, semblance wou 3 e 1d be still ~more ut probably the most effectiv and certainly the most costly 5’::: ;ise:'}f:i adopted by John B. Stetson, the million- aire hatter, who owns about 600 acres in groves in ‘the vicinity of Delano. Fla e has recently purchased a sawmill and employed a large crew of carpenters and is proceeding to build a house over each one of his orange groves. He has already inclosed a I3-acre piece in this way, and where once there was a beautiful ex- panse of shnrelr trees, with glossy leaves and golden fruit, one is now confronted with a large, low, flat shed of the plain- est possible ‘architecture and absolutely without the least claim to grace or beau. ty. Inside are the trees, deprived of sun- shine, their branches intermingled with beam’ and rafters, while at intervals on the ground are piles of wood in readiness to furnish heat for this great conserva- tory. After the danger of frosts has pass- ed “the sides and roof of the structure will be removed and the groves allowed to enjoy the open air again until the next season of uncertainty. s f ‘WARD GOULD. speaker. a statesman as well es a writ- er. There was certainly no time to lose if T set myself such an imposing task. The politics of Albany, the capital city of the Emvire State, Is always in- teresting. I learned all I could about it while I was at the academy. The presidential campaign of 1852, when the famous old Whig party of Webster and Clay went to pieces, found me with rather more than the boy's ordinary interest in national affairs. I began reading the history of my own country, which to this day I find the most fasci- nating as well as fruitful of studies. Fervid Politician at 14. The excitement of the Fremont cam- paign in ’56 appealed to me as strongly a8 to most of the electors. A boy of 14, with my studies to look after, I attend- ed all the meetings, listened eagerly to the speaking, took part in the rarades. The Republican organization formed to support Fremont was full of the vital- editor.” In reality he began as a boy Russia, on the national stump with what have ity of youth, fervid with the solemnity of conviction. It voiced the growing anti-slavery sentiment which was strong in the country. The feeling of national unrest, the presentiment of national disaster, inflamed the imagin- ation even of the schoolboy. ‘The party. which seemed to be founded on right- eousness and justice, which had sprung from the ruins of the once grand old Whig party and now appealed to the conseience of the country, was the po- litical organization with which I de-f sired above all things to be connected. Its orators became my instructors, its principles as announced on the stump were so many new text books. Politics was a part of my education. Beginning Newspaper Work. So it came about that when I had finished my academy course I was able to offer to the Albany Transcript. edit- ed by one of my former teachers. edit- orials which the editor liked well enough to warrant his engaging me to go on writing them. The conditions of journalism were so different then and now that it is hardly necessary for me to say my engagement on the Tran- seript did not establish a precedent. Few outsiders get into the sanctum nowadays. The newspaper business has broadened out on the lines of other successful business organizations and the beginner must start at the bottom as a rule. 1 had a year of this work, which was also a vear of the study and practice of politics, and then I went to Union Col- The war fever I went into the and stumped the counties adjacent to the college, and acquired a marked taste for political speaking, a taste unmarred by the stage fright of most untried lege at Schenectady. was already in the air. Presidential campaign of 1860, orators. Yet in the more recent years I have experienced time and time again a feeling of apprehension or hesitation when rising to speak on some theme of grave import. That this feeling was not experienced .in 1860 it seems to me must have been due to the deep per- sonal interest I took in the canvass. In all the neighboring parades and pro- cessions of that, eventful time, when the Wide Awakes began to cut a figure in the public eye, the college campaign club, of which I was captain, took an active part. ‘While I was active as aid to General Rathbone in raising and organizing vol- unteer regiments, the next three or four vears of my life were also devoted to political study, organization and ac- tivity. By 1864 I had become familiar with open air campaign speaking. My leisure time I employed in the study of general history, American history and economics, wfih a_ continuation of activity in writing, which resulted in 1865, when I was 23, in my becoming editor of the Albany Express, in which I soon acquired an interest. The Trans- cript, on which I had begun my jour- nalistic career, had been purchased by the owners of and merged into the Ex- press. Public Men Cannot Be Convivial. . The years immediately following the conclusion of the war between the States were now developing those in- teresting changes in American publie and public men which have become fairly characteristic, it seems to me. of the last half of our century. The Amer- ican statesman is no longer a senti- mentalist. Economic questions have gradually become the most important. ‘With the decline of sentiment in states- manship, sentimental oratory has also become largely a thing of the past. Our national life has become serious and practical. Great problems of organiza- tion have gradually occupied the fore- most minds. Economic questions nat- urally do not need to be exploited by the fiights of oratory. While the power to make an effective speech still re- mains a desirable accomplishment—for there are occasions and topics that can in no other way be so impressed on an audience as by eloquence, speechmak- ing has become a minor part of the equipment of a successful public man. The interests after which the average Representative in Congress now has to look have become so diverse, so compli- cated, so important that he has all he can do to attend to them. The demands on his time are so great that he finds leisure for little, if any, of that social if convivial life which in ante-bellum days was so characteristic of public men in Washington. Conviviality and a high order of public usefulness are no longer compatible. “Concentration and Constancy.” ‘Whatever success I have met with is due primarily to concentration and con- staney. I felt that I could not afford to give up journalism for officeholding, so I declined in Albany to take the nomination for Congress, or for any of- fice. While continuing my newspaper work, I endeavored each ar to make a substantial addition to my equipment. American biography I found stimulat- ing as well as instructive. In fiction, “Vanity Fair,” “David Copperfield” and the “Three Musketeers” delighted me. I have always been fond of the theater, but I found little time to go. Fortunately, I have found my chief pleasure in my work. Greeley, Raymond and the elder Ben- nett were the powerful personalities in American journalism when I was grow- ing up. People read Greeley’s newspa- per, for example, to find out what Gree- ley thought. But one interesting devel- opment of our time has been the prac- tical annihilation of this nersonal ele- ment in journalism. There is no one newspaper that so far excels the others as to overshadow their infiuence in their own fields. Journalism is so much broader and more exacting that it re- quires many personalities instead of one to produce and maintain the new: paper. At the same time the contribu- tions of journalism to statesmanship in the United States have notably in- creased in the generation past. Law remains, of course, the school of pub- lic men. Yet in no other country save France have so many public men left the editorial sanctum for the halls legislation. Representative Nelson . whose recent death was a loss to his party and his country, never abandoned entirely, I believe, his life- ton Journal, which began in 1856. Mr. Blaine, the greatest of America's editorial statesmen, was identified with the Kennebec Journal. Senator Anthony with the Providence Journal, Hon. Whitelaw Reid and Hon, John Hay with the New York Tribune and so on. Journalism and Public Life. In England Junius and later John Wilkes demonstrated the force of jour- nalism in public life. Delane held no of- fice, but preferred to be the power be- hind the placeholder. William Henry Smith, the head of the great News com- pany, was for years the leader of the House of Commons. Labouchere is a conspicuous example of the journalist statesman of to-day. In France the names of Gambetta, Thiers and Cavail- lac naturally suggest themselves. ‘While cditing the Albany Express I was introduced to Horace Greeley. It was soon after he had gone on Jefferson Davis’ bail bond and had provoked from over the country a fire of criti- cism which had drawn out his charac- terization of country editors as “those insignifcant fellows that God in his in- scrutable wisdom permits to edit the country papers.” A Greeley Anecdote. Mr. Greeley came to Albany and Gov- ernor Fenton presented me to him, at a reception in the executive mansion, as the editor of the Express. “Yes, Mr. Greeley,” I said, as I grasped his hand, “I am one of.those insignificant fel- lows that God in his inscrutable wis- dom permits to edit the country news- papers.” He laughed heartily and we became good friends. Not long after- ward I went to New York on a confi- dential mission from Governor Fenton, and saw Mr. Greeley at that historic desk of his in the Tribune office, writing away with his hand up under his chin as he followed his pen with his eyes. As to the turning point in my career? I was taking a grave risk when, in 1880, I translated myself from New York State to Pennsylyania. In 1870 I had become joint and in 1877 sole editor of the Albany Evening Journal. I was at home in New York public life, and had been asked In State conventions time after time to frame the resolutions em- bodying the platform of the party. I had been secretary of the platform committee of the national Republican convention of 1876 and had come to an- ticipate only one possible removal from Albany, that to New York. When I ac- cepted the edijorship of the Philadel- phia Press, the leading Republican journal of a famous old Republican commonwealth, I found myself face to face with life under new conditions, not in a new.State, but in a long-estab- lished civilization. But I accepted the risk and have not regretted it. _— e Admiral Schley recently sat in a box in one of the Philadelphia theaters, and every movement he made was watched by the thousands in the place. If he bowed to an acquaintance, they applauded. If he smiled, they applauded. In fact, the whole evening was an incessant ovation. But Schley’s defeat came at the end of the second act. He arose and started to the next box to call on friends, but he had not taken two steps before a deep bass voice from the upper gallery rolled forth, “Let's all go out and take a beer,” placing the accent on the “all.” The hero col- lapsed, sank into a chalir, and shook with laughter, while the audience shrieked. —_————————— “Oh, spare me, spare me, Mr. Burglarl Think of your dear mothe “No use, mum; didn't have one. ‘I was reared in an incubator.”—Colored Comia. L