EX-SHERIFF MURDERED.
'"The discovery of new placer fields in British Columbia and Oregon caused a large influx of miners and camp followers to flow into those regions during the years 1861-1862, taxing the steamers plying between San Francisco, Portland and Victoria, to their utmost capacity. On one of the regular voyages between the California port and the two last named cities, the passenger list, which was a large one, included a party of so-called sporting men and women, who, after the vessel had cleared the harbor and was fairly out at sea, took possession of the card-room and began to ply their trade, three-card monte and other games being introduced, while in the social saloon orgies were enacted which drove all the other passengers outside. Among these bacchanalians was a man named Patterson, who wore without attempt at concealment a large ivory-handled revolver and a formidable bowie-knife to match.
He seemed to be the recognized leader of the party, and the woman who passed as his wife was equally as proficient as he in dealing three-card monte—which seemed to be their specialty. They were a couple to attract attention in any place. He was in height above six feet, with a well-knit muscular frame, weighing over two hundred pounds, without any appearance of being stout or fleshy. He had sandy, or red hair, and a florid complexion, which bore marks of dissipation; heavy, bushy eyebrows partially concealed a pair of restless blue eyes, which never seemed to center on one object, but continually shifted as if expecting some kind of a hostile demonstration. He wore a pair of high-heeled boots, which fitted his shapely feet to perfection, and a pair of plaid trousers which had been reinforced, or foxed, with buckskin, after the manner of similar garments worn by cavalrymen in our army. He also wore a cassimere shirt, a fancy silk vest, across the front of which dangled a heavy gold chain, made from specimens of native California gold. A long frock coat of heavy pilot-beaver cloth, trimmed with the fur of the sea-otter completed a wardrobe typical of the man who wore it. He was about forty years old, and being destined to play a prominent part in the then unborn history of Idaho, the foregoing description is given.
The woman who claimed recognition as his wife was perhaps twenty-eight years of age, though dissipation and the continued use of cosmetics had caused her to appear older. She had a figure to which even the modern mantuamakers' art could add no line of symmetry, a brunette in complexion and in form a Venus, tall and willowy in her movements. Mate to such a man as Patterson, they were the observed among the observers. The steamer arrived abreast the Columbia river bar too late in the evening to cross in safety and the captain concluded to lie off and on till morning. Complaint was made to the officers of the ship during the night, by a committee of passengers, who demanded that the boisterous conduct and the profane language being used in the presence of ladies and children be stopped. Whereupon the captain visited the card-room, where he found the sporting fraternity assembled and addressing them courteously, requested that they retire, as the hour had arrived when the lights must be extinguished. To this request Patterson, who had probably been drinking more than was his usual custom, replied in an insulting manner, causing the captain to threaten to put him in irons if he did not behave. The party then dispersed, Patterson saying that he would see the captain after the ship landed in Portland.
The vessel crossed the bar the following morning, and after discharging freight and a few passengers at Astoria, proceeded on its way up the river to Portland, arriving there during the night. After the ship was docked and secured in her berth, although the hour was late, the passengers, weary of being confined, went ashore and were soon distributed throughout the city. The following morning after the crew, under the direction of the second and third officers, had begun to discharge the ship's cargo, the captain proceeded up town to call on some of his late passengers who had gone to the Cosmopolitan Hotel. That old time hostelry was then the best in the city of Portland, or for that matter, on the northwest coast, and stood on the north side of Stark street between Front street and the river. The main entrance was into the office, or large reception room, which occupied the first or ground floor fronting on Stark and Front streets. There being no hall or elevator, access to the hotel parlor, which was located on the second floor, was gained by ascending a broad spiral stairway which arose from the office floor; hence no visitor or guest could come or go without their movements being noted by the bookkeeper or landlord, one of whom was always present. The captain, after arriving at the hotel, sent his cards to those he desired to see, and was at once shown up to the hotel parlor. A few minutes later Patterson entered the office door and proceeding to the clerk's desk inquired for the captain and upon being told that he had gone up stairs but would soon come down, he took a seat directly opposite the stairway, remarking that he would wait. But a short time elapsed before the captain and the friend he had called to see, appeared at the upper landing of the stairway, and after good-bye had been said, he began to descend. Patterson had been watching the parting of the friends from where he sat, and when the captain had descended about half way down the stairs, he arose and shot him dead, the limp body bumping from step to step until it reached the office floor. The murderer surrendered to a policeman, who entered at the moment the shot was fired, but too late to prevent the tragedy. It has often been said that none other than Deity can foretell the verdict of a jury, and such was the case in the trial which followed the death of the captain. He was shot by a ruffian in revenge for an imaginary insult and a jury of "good men and true" exonerated the murderer and turned him loose on society to seek other victims, the first of whom was the woman he had flaunted as his wife on the incoming voyage of the steamer. Suspecting her of disloyalty, he became enraged, and seizing in one hand the coil in which she always wore her hair, drew his bowie-knife, which was as sharp as a razor, with the other, and attempted to cut it off close to her head at one stroke, but aiming too low, when the hair came off in his hand a large piece of scalp clung to it. A policeman, hearing the woman scream, entered the house and placed the offender under arrest. Again Patterson was in the hands of the Portland authorities, and again as quickly released. He then made his final departure from Oregon, vowing vengeance on the officer who had arrested him for scalping the woman. The foregoing biographical sketch is pertinent to this narrative only for the reason that its hero, Patterson, after leaving Oregon went direct to Idaho, where he soon became a prominent luminary among the bravos who controlled the body politic of that territory for years.
One of the characteristics peculiar to all communities alike, is that there are but few men who are willing to take the risk of interfering with the riotous actions of characters such as are sometimes found in frontier towns, not alone in mining districts, but in all others, where the surrounding country is sparsely settled. The men to whom I refer are by nature divided into two classes, both of which believe it to be the acme of human enjoyment to load up with "red liquor" and proceed to terrorize the inhabitants. They generally go on their periodical debauches in parties of three or more, and in towns where, as is often the case, only a city marshal with one assistant is employed, the rioters generally run their course.
The difference which distinguishes the classes mentioned is so pronounced as to be readily recognized, one class being composed of young men of the cow-boy order, whose talent runs to riding wild horses, drinking the before-mentioned "red liquor" and firing off their pistols; using as targets the lamps in saloons, dance-halls and like places. These sportive ones are really not bad men, they simply pose as such; but when they start in to amuse themselves, a cyclone cellar, such as are found in Nebraska and South Dakota, would be a desirable annex to the average residence, as the bullets discharged by these hilarious gentlemen sometimes puncture the walls of houses, greatly to the alarm of the occupants. They do not intend to fatally injure anyone, although accidents on such occasions have sometimes occurred. They are similar to the old-fashioned alarm clock that when it once went off, or started to strike, could not be stopped until it ran down, and the average marshal is powerless to check the festivities of this class of fellows until their steam is exhausted.
The other class is composed of men who, when aroused to a certain pitch by drink, start on a carousal not for fun, not merely to intimidate and drive off the streets and thoroughfares the residents, but generally with the well-digested purpose of using as a target for-pistol-practice, not lamps, as do the others, but the anatomy of some one who has become offensive by non-concurrence with their methods. When this class of men start on a rampage, their numbers may not exceed two or three individuals; yet their purpose being usually well known, and the danger of interference so thoroughly understood that seldom does anyone interpose to protect their intended victim—nor is it to be wondered at, as interposition would probably mean death to the intruder. Thus it was and is, even today a few desperate men can terrorize an entire mining camp or frontier town. But their reign is usually short, for emboldened by continued immunity, they at length commit some crowning act that arouses the indignation of all good men and most men are good. When such a time arrives the voice of the people becomes the voice of God and the agents of the devil had better take notice.
From the time the first county officers were appointed in Boise county, until after Lee's surrender at Appomattox, civil government presented a strange anomaly. The territory, for judicial purposes, was divided into three districts, to each of which was appointed a judge by the then president of the United States, Abraham Lincoln, and for the territory at large was appointed a United States marshal, who in turn appointed a deputy in each judicial district. The officers thus appointed were Union men, while the sheriffs and their deputies, as well as all other elective officers in the territory, were usually adverse to the government and the laws which they were expected to enforce. Especially was this true in Boise county, which embraced Boise Basin.
To the fact that no fellow-feeling, no community of political and social interest existed between the judge on the bench and the elective officers of his court may be attributed at least in part the failure in most cases to even bring to trial those who had taken or attempted to take the lives of their fellow-men; and in the few cases where such offenders were brought to trial, juries were summoned at least a part of whom considered the offense for which the prisoner was being tried an act deserving of commendation rather than punishment. As evidence of this condition of affairs, the case of James Pinney, the first postmaster in Idaho City, may be quoted. Pinney was a quiet, unobtrusive young man, considerate of the feelings of others, yet he was shot at his place of business, miraculously escaping death, the would-be assassin escaping the punishment his act justly merited.
There were in Boise county during the foregoing period a few men who were as staunch and loyal to the government as others were disloyal; men who never hesitated to declare themselves and who always were prepared to meet emergencies as they might arise; men who, in fact, courted the danger of conflict. Prominent among this class was a man named Pinkham, who was the first sheriff by appointment in Boise county, serving only until an election was held and his successor qualified. He was one of Nature's noblemen, six feet two inches tall, with the frame of an athlete. Although he was yet in the prime of vigorous manhood, his hair and beard were almost snow-white, while his cheeks were as rosy as a boy's. Not only physically, but mentally, he was a leader among men, and although he had been marked from the first for the bullet of an assassin, the seasons there as elsewhere came and went for more than two years before a man could be found to undertake the desperate enterprise. Finally, Ferd Patterson who had gained notoriety in Portland, Oregon, by killing the captain of the steamship and scalping his erstwhile mistress, and who had been a sojourner in Idaho since that time, expressed a willingness to add another nick to the handle of his revolver by killing Pinkham, provided the "boys" would stand in and secure his acquittal by being present when the killing occurred and testifying afterward that Pinkham drew his weapon first, or attempted to do so, thus showing that Patterson acted in self-defense.
An arrangement was accordingly made one Sunday during the forenoon, accompanied by those who were to appear at the anticipated trial, Patterson went down to the Warm Springs, a bathing resort located on the Boise City stage road about one mile below Idaho City. Prior to their starting, however, they knew that Pinkham had been invited to ride down to the Springs by a Boise City man who was there with a team and buggy. As he had planned, Patterson and party arrived first at the Springs. At once they repaired to the bar-room where liquors were dispensed.
The building in which the bath rooms were located was erected above the road on ground which sloped into the gulch, or ravine, which carried into Moore's Creek the overflow from a large hot spring, which flowed out of the side of a steep hill above. Along the front of the house which was the end of the building, ran a porch, or piazza, and it being elevated above the ground except at one end, was surrounded by a railing as a precaution against accidents, while entrance to the house was made via the porch, access to which was gained by means of a short flight of steps at the end where it was near the ground. The room which was entered from the porch was used as a bar-room and a door in the rear of this room opened into a hall which extended the entire length of the building, and on both sides of the hall were bath rooms, while above the house on the hillside was a swimming pond filled with warm water.
The foregoing explanation of the premises is necessary that the future reader who may not have visited this resort will more fully understand the tragedy which was enacted there. When the buggy in which Pinkham rode arrived at the Springs he alighted and entering the bar-room found Patterson and his party there. Having had no previous intimation of their presence, accustomed .as he was to the methods of Patterson and his friends, it doubtess flashed on his mind in an instant that the crowd was there to murder him. Patterson began an attempt to start a quarrel, but Pinkham, realizing that he was alone, among unscrupulous enemies, would not be drawn into a difficulty and remarking "That's all right, Patterson," brushed past him and entered one of the small bath-rooms and closed the door. Patterson and his friends soon afterwards went out through the hall, and on up to the swimming pond, where they all proceeded to take a swim.
Patterson related the succeeding events to a friend who made the story public after those who were parties to the affair left the country.
Patterson said that he and his companions were so long in the swimming pond that he thought Pinkham would be gone before they returned to the bar-room, and he hoped he was gone, as he knew that if he did not continue his efforts to force a quarrel the men who were with him would think he had weakened, and he said that he knew that if a quarrel was precipitated, he must get Pinkham quickly, or Pinkham would get him; so upon entering the hall he drew his revolver and carried it cocked in his hand as he entered the bar-room, and Pinkham not being there, he walked directly to the open door leading to the porch, and found Pinkham standing waiting for the hack which conveyed passengers to and from the Springs; raising his pistol, he said,
“Will you draw, you Abolition son of a b---- ?"
And as Pinkham turned his side toward him he fired. The smoke of his pistol, he said, partially obscured his view, and dropping on one knee, he leveled the pistol across his arm and fired the second shot, both bullets taking effect, although the first shot caused a mortal wound. Pinkham instinctively reached for and drew his weapon, evidently cocking it by the same motion, and as he was falling, it discharged into the ceiling. The murdered man fell to the floor and immediately expired. Thus was completed the mission on which they came.
Arrangements having been made for his speedy departure, Patterson at once mounted a horse and started to leave the country, but Pink-ham's former deputy, Rube Robbins, followed by the sheriff, were soon in pursuit, and the murderer was overhauled by Rube who came up on him first before half the distance to Boise valley was covered. His arrest was accomplished without difficulty, when, joined by the sheriff, they started back to Idaho City, and making a detour to avoid difficulty with a large force of miners who had assembled and were threatening to hang Patterson, they arrived at the county jail and succeeded in placing him behind the bars without interference, although at least a thousand men were clamoring for his blood.
But the danger-point had been reached. Meetings were quietly assembled in all the mining towns for several successive nights and couriers were kept continually on the move, carrying news from one point to another. Men gathered in whispering groups on the hillsides and in the miners' cabins. A spirit of mystery and secrecy pervaded the atmosphere, culminating finally in a delegation from all the mining towns being sent to Idaho City for the purpose of holding a conference, looking to the organization of a vigilance committee similar to that which had accomplished such effective work in the Payette valley. The conference was held in a large fire-proof cellar used for storage purposes, and it was concluded that before perfecting an organization a messenger should be sent to the captain of the Payette Vigilance Committee, and if possible, secure his attendance at a subsequent meeting which would be called in Idaho City at such time as would be convenient for him to attend. Orlando Bobbins, or Rube Robbins, as he was generally known, was accordingly dispatched to find the captain and if possible persuade him to come to Idaho City at once. Robbins was successful in his mission and two days afterward returned with his man.
Arrangements were at once made for a meeting consisting of a few reliable men to be held the succeeding night in the fire-proof cellar which had heretofore been used for meetings. As secrecy was to be observed until an organization was perfected the cellar was wisely chosen. Ten o'clock that night was the hour named, and when the time arrived approximately two score of the most prominent men in the Basin were present, to whom was introduced the captain, who upon being informed of the object of the gathering, at the request of the chairman, gave those present an outline of the constitution and by-laws of the Payette committee, stating that it was the fault of the citizens of Boise Basin that conditions such as had heretofore prevailed were allowed to continue. In the aggregate the men who had committed all the crimes in Idaho were few in numbers, and he thought the time had arrived for the people to put a stop to such atrocious murders as had been of frequent occurrence in the past. He stated that as the first object of the proposed organization was the punishment of Patterson, the murderer of Pinkham, he would like to be present when that event took place, and assured them that while his own affairs would prevent him from becoming a member of their organization, he would come to Idaho City at any time on receiving notice that they were ready to act.
The meeting then proceeded to organize on the same lines as the Payette committee had followed, adopting for its name "The Idaho City Vigilance Committee." A blacksmith who had a shop on Buena Vista Bar was chosen as captain, and an executive committee of five elected who were to have entire control of the organization, issuing their orders direct to the captain whose duty it was made to carry them out. A committee on enrollment was also appointed, the duty of which was to enroll as members all persons who would be willing to act with the organization in suppressing crime and punishing murderers and robbers.
At the meeting a Methodist minister presided and none of those present ever forgot his opening address; and while the average minister is generally considered out of place in mining camps where the Sabbath is respected no more than any other day, his bold stand in favor of suppressing the lawless class did more to elevate the churches in the minds of his hearers than all the sermons they were likely to hear. Among other things he said "He could fight or he could pray, as occasion required." The man was Reverend Kingsley, who became a permanent resident of Idaho and lived many years of usefulness to his fellows and when his final call came took his departure, loved and respected by all.
Two weeks were consumed in preparation, at the end of which time a membership of nine hundred were enrolled. Among the number were two men who had served in the navy and were familiar with explosives. They were detailed to prepare a number of hand-grenades which were intended to demolish the gates of the prison. It had been determined by the executive committee that the entire force would advance to the door of the jail where Patterson was confined and demand that he be delivered up to them, and if denial was made then the walls were to be scaled and the place captured by assault.
For the purpose of carrying out the foregoing plan, the members were notified to appear fully armed at the city cemetery at two o'clock on a morning named, it being the object to advance on the jail at daybreak. The cemetery was located but a short distance above the jail but it was doubtless chosen as a rendezvous not solely on account of its contiguity to the object of their attack. The leaders apparently counted on the effect which the newly-made graves, and they were all comparatively new, would have on the friends of the murdered men who slept beneath those sodless mounds, as it was well known to the executive committee that many of those who slept their last sleep in that hallowed ground had died from the knife or bullet of an assassin, and from the hearts of a hundred friends, those who were assembled in the haze of that star-lit morning, meeting around those silent mounds, arose a cry for vengeance. At least an hour before the time named in the call the men, in groups of two, three or more, began to arrive, and by two o'clock nine hundred men were on the ground awaiting the order to advance, while on the side nearest to the jail, an emergency field hospital was improvised, with two surgeons in attendance, showing that the serious nature of this enterprise was fully understood by all.
The assembling of so many men could not be accomplished secretly even in the night time—in a place like Idaho City, where many of the inhabitants were night-hawks, men who worked on the night shift, and, while doing so, worked the other fellow. Consequently, as so many men were noticed slipping out in little groups, it was readily surmised that their object was an attack on the jail, so the sheriff was at once apprised. It is more than probable that the news of the intended movement had leaked, and that he was informed in advance. Consequently, in line with his duty, he had garrisoned the jail with practically all the thugs and tin-horn gamblers in the city, and was prepared to defend his prisoner, Patterson. Thus a comical side was presented by even the serious condition that existed at that moment, and this was, that the majority of the men whom the sheriff had engaged as defenders of the jail, and consequently of the law, were many of them, for the first time in their lives, its defenders. But the sheriff was unquestionably right in employing such help as was at hand, it being clearly his duty, as an officer of the law, to protect his prisoner.
The men who were expected to defend the jail from assault were ensconced behind its walls and were provided with arms, besides, judging by the yells and pistol shots, they were also furnished an ample supply of nerve tonic, "the cup that cheers." Immediately prior to the time set for the advance, a man who had been reclining on the ground, well to the rear of the others, arose, and threading his way carefully toward the center of the cemetery, mounted a log and in a voice that could be distinctly heard by all present, said, "Gentlemen: You all know me— at least by reputation; I am the man whom the Payette Vigilance Committee calls captain; I am here tonight upon invitation of your executive committee. Up to the present time I have taken no part in advising, or managing your affairs, but the time has arrived when human lives are in the balance, and I feel that although there are many older and, doubtless wiser men here than I, yet I feel that at this critical moment that it is due you that I should express my views, and whether you concur with me or not, my duty so far shall have been performed.
"You have assembled here for the purpose of demanding from the sheriff and his deputies in charge of the jail, their prisoner, Patterson, your object being not only to punish him for the murder of Pinkham, but in so doing, impress upon the lawless classes the certainty that, hereafter, no murderer shall escape. The only object you could have in assembling here in the night and advancing on the jail at daybreak was that you might surprise the guard and capture them without resistance, but as is evident, your plans are known and the sheriff has made provisions for the defense of his charge. You can storm the place and take it by assault, but in so doing many lives will be lost, and I cannot see the philosophy of sacrificing perhaps forty or fifty good men's lives to hang one criminal. A mistake has been made in calling out so many men; I can take Idaho City with ten men; I would go through it like a cyclone, and take whomever I wanted."
Some one in the crowd immediately spoke up and said "That is the man for our captain." The words were scarcely uttered when they were repeated by hundreds of voices. The man who had been in charge up to this time was a blacksmith who worked at his trade on Buena Vista Bar. He at once came forward and asked the Payette visitor to take charge, stating that he was "not qualified for such work."
To this he replied: "Gentlemen, under the circumstances I will assume the responsibility and issue my first orders now. They are that you all go home. When I want any of you, I shall let you know. Before you separate, however, I desire to say that Patterson killed my friend, and the earth is not big enough to hide his murderer."
The crowd at once began to disperse, and when day dawned there was no evidence that such a gathering had taken place, except the trampled weeds and ground in the cemetery.
Thus ended the first crisis in the history of Idaho. Had an attack been made on the prison many lives would have been lost in the battle that would have followed, and it would not have ended until vengeance had been wreaked upon every man in Boise Basin who had unlawfully taken human life.
It was Saturday morning when the gathering dispersed. During the day following business was practically suspended. Men gathered in groups in the streets and in the miners' cabins, the one subject of their discussion being what was likely to occur now that a new leader had been chosen. It was generally believed that a way would be found to punish Patterson, but how was it to be accomplished? No one seemed to be informed on that subject.
During the day warrants were issued for the arrest of Rube Robbins, Elder Kingsley and one other, and they were placed under arrest. It was generally believed that the arrests were made under the impression that the new captain would undertake to rescue the prisoners, in which event it was probably planned that he would be shot by some one concealed for the purpose. But he paid no attention to the matter, in fact did not appear in the crowd that immediately gathered. The prisoners were at once paroled by the federal judge who was in the city. Thus, under high tension, passed that day and the succeeding night. That the leader had formulated some plan which was known to not more than two or three persons, was considered certain. But what was the plan? All was shrouded in mystery. Sunday afternoon he and Rube Robbins appeared on the street, both mounted, and rode across to Buena Vista Bar and down the road past the warm springs toward Boise City—the cynosure of all eyes. Soon afterward a group of miners and others began to assemble at the blacksmith shop on Buena Vista Bar, owned by the former captain, and when the assemblage had grown to such a size as to attract attention, the sheriff approached and demanded that they disperse within thirty minutes, or he would arrest them all.
They were doing nobody any harm, being merely there on the public road, each one being intent to learn all he could concerning the probable outcome of the pending difficulty. Some of those present were doubtless members of the Idaho City Vigilance Committee, but many were not, and as the observations of all alike had caused them to have but little respect for sheriffs and their deputies as peace officers, they did not
propose to be ordered off the public highway, or arrested, because they did not see fit to go. So they at once began the erection of barricades along ditches that crossed near the shop. John C. Henly, an attorney, happening along on horseback, took in the situation at a glance, and at once galloped down the road after Robbins and the captain. Fortunately, he met them on their way back to town, and spurring up their horses, they were soon at the scene of the proposed hostilities. From here could be seen the sheriff and his deputies assembling their forces on a sawdust pile near the jail, preparatory to making a descent on the miners. Attracted by the unusual sight of a large force of men tearing down ricks of cordwood and building barricades, many persons had congregated, who knew nothing about the approaching conflict. Among this number was a company from Payette Valley, consisting of, approximately, twenty men, all of whom were members of the Payette Vigilance Committee, who had come to Idaho City to look for their captain, fearing something had happened to him. On their arrival they had placed their saddle animals in a feed-yard and started out in quest of the object of their search, arriving at Buena Vista Bar in time to meet him at the barricade. A hurried conference followed, in which he requested them to take no part in the coming conflict, if one occurred, but to remain where they were, and they would probably see the prettiest fight they had ever witnessed. He told them his plan was to draw his men off to the other side of Moore Creek and take possession of a large dry ditch which girdled an ox-bow point, and there make a stand, since the ditch was a breastwork already prepared, and, furthermore, if a battle ensued, it was far enough removed from town or dwelling houses to insure the safety of non-combatants. He would listen to no remonstrance, but turning from them to the trenches and barricade, sang out, "Boys, this is no place to make a stand; I will show you a better one; follow me," and immediately started across the creek bottom for the ditch on the opposite side. Arriving there he instantly threw his men into line and dividing them into three squads, placing Rube Robbins in charge, of one, and Al Hawk another, while he took command' of the third, placing them in front at the apex of the bend, sending Rube to guard one flank with his men and Hawk the other. By the time these dispositions were made the sheriff had started his men on the double quick from where they were assembled, to make an attack. When they reached Moore Creek they were halted by the captain, and told "if they had an officer to send him forward to talk matters over, and if not, they had best come no nearer." A man who was mounted on a horse at once rode out and across to where the captain stood awaiting him, and on gaining speaking distance, exclaimed, "The only terms I have to propose to you is that you stack your arms and disperse, or the last divvil of you will be kilt." To this salutation the captain responded: "The h--- you say. What is your name?" the answer being, "My name is German; I am under-sheriff." The captain then said: "Mr. German, you had better return to the ranks; you and I cannot settle anything—send your chief up here. I will talk to him." Mr. German quickly complied with the suggestion, and within a few minutes the sheriff approached, exclaiming as he came near, "My God, cannot this be stopped?" To this the captain replied, "It is stopped. I've stopped right here. Don't you think I've got a good place? If you had wanted to arrest me, or any of my men, we respect your duty as an officer, and would submit to your authority, as was done yesterday; or, if you had needed a posse, and had secured one composed of respectable citizens, I or any of my men would surrender to you, but instead of such a posse, you come with all the cutthroats in the country." To this the sheriff answered that "when he chose men with a fight in view, he picked fighting men." The captain replied that there had always been a doubt in his mind "as to whether blow-hards and murderers could fight better than decent men. We have a chance to settle the matter now. The responsibility rests upon you—fire the first gun and not a man of you will ever cross that bar alive."
The sheriff then proposed that "they all deliver up their arms to him, and he would pledge his word of honor that in thirty days they would be returned, and the men could all go home." The captain in reply said, "I have a very pretty gun here; it was sent me by a friend in Centerville when he learned that these boys had chosen me to be their captain. He thought, when he sent me the gun, that I would not surrender it while I lived, and he was not the least bit mistaken.
"You have sent Holbrook around with a body of men to get in my rear, and I have sent some boys over there who will hurt him, and we shall be obliged to hold another election. You had better send men to call him off at once, and you go back to town with all your force, and try to make them behave. I am not going to attack your jail. You may rest easy on that score—for I would not sacrifice the life of even one man for the sake of hanging a murderer. You may give Patterson his trial without hindrance, and, since the evidence has been arranged to secure his acquittal, he can go forth into the world, but the world is not big enough to hide him." Thus ended the second crisis. The sheriff withdrew his force and left the captain and his men in undisputed possession of the field.
A calamity was happily averted, for, had a single hostile shot been fired that day, the few decent men who were with the sheriff's party would have paid the penalty for being in bad company, because it would have been impossible, in the battle which would have ensued, to distinguish them from their allies; and as a force even larger than that with the captain had assembled on Buena Vista Bar, and joined the company from the Payette, the sheriff's force would have been between two fires—meaning their total extermination. The promise made to the sheriff, not to attack the jail and allow the trial to proceed, became generally known during that and the following day, hence the excitement subsided and business was resumed.
A short time afterward court convened and the trial of Patterson began,
culminating, as he had prearranged, in his acquittal. That he would eventually
receive punishment for his crimes merited, no one doubted; but when or where he
was to pay the extreme penalty was known only to the executive officers. He took
his departure from Idaho City soon after his acquittal, going to Walla Walla,
where there happened to be, at the time of his arrival, the man who was on the
police force in Portland when Patterson scalped his paramour, and whom he had
threatened to kill for arresting him. The ex-policeman having faith in
Patterson's intent, as well as ability to keep pledges of that character, was on
the lookout for him, and seeing him enter a barber-shop soon after his arrival
in Walla Walla, followed him in, and finding Patterson seated in a barber-chair,
shot and killed him instantly—after the same manner he had been in the habit of
killing his victims. Thus ended a career of crime, relieving the Idaho City
committee of the task they had set for themselves.The writer of the foregoing narrative was the captain of the Payette Vigilance Committee, hence he was in a position to know the details of what transpired during those turbulent days and nights.
W.J. McConnell
Captain of Vigilantes, 1864.