This execution occasioned a great storm of indignation among the adherents of law and order. Serious-minded men, like Judge Shattuck, admitted the essential justice rendered, but condemned strongly the method.
"Of course they were murderers," cried the judge, "and of course they should have been hung, and of course the city is better off without either of them. I'm not afraid of their friends, and I don't care who knows what I think! And some very worthy citizens, wrongly, are involved in this, some citizens whom otherwise I greatly respect. It is better that a hundred criminals should escape than that the whole law of California should be outraged by an act that denies at once the value and the authority of our government. The energy, the talent for organization, that this committee has displayed in the exercise of usurped authority, might have been directed in aid of the courts, consistently with the constitution and the laws, with, equal if not greater efficiency."
But very few were able to see it in this calm spirit. The ruling class, the "chivalry," the best element of the city had been slapped in the face. And by whom? By a lot of "Yankee shopkeepers," assisted by renegades like Keith, Talbot Ward, and others. The committee was a lot of stranglers; they ought to be punished as murderers; they ought to be shot down, egad, as revolutionaries! It was realized that street shooting had temporarily become unsafe; otherwise, there is no doubt that the hotheads would have gone forth deliberately abrawling. There were many threats made against individuals, many condign--and lawless--punishments promised them.
As an undercurrent, nowhere expressed or even acknowledged, was a strong feeling of relief. Any Law and Order would have fought at the mere suggestion; but every one of them felt it. After all, the law had been surprised and overpowered. It had yielded only to overwhelming odds. With the execution of Cora and Casey accomplished, the committee might be expected to disband. And, of course, when it did disband, then the law would have its innings. Its forces would be better organized and consolidated, its power assured. It could then apprehend and bring to justice the ringleaders of this unwarranted undertaking. Like dogs at the heels of a retreating foe, the hotheads became bolder as this secret conviction gained strength. They were in favour of using an armed force to take Coleman and his fellow-conspirators into the custody of the law. Calmer spirits held this scheme in check.
"Let them have rope," advised Blatchford. "I know mobs. Now that they've hung somebody, their spirit will die down. Give them a few days."
But to the surprise, and indignation of these people, the Vigilantes showed no of an intention to disband. On the contrary, their activities extended and their organization tightened. The various companies drilled daily until they went through evolutions and the manual of arms with all the perfection of regular troops. The committee's books remained open; by the last of the week over seven thousand men had signed the rolls. Vanloads of furniture and various supplies were backed up before the doors of headquarters, and were carried within by members of the organization--no non-member ever saw the inside of the building while it was occupied by the Vigilantes. The character of these furnishings and supplies would seem to argue an intention of permanence. Stoves, cooking utensils, cot beds, provisions, blankets, bulletin boards, arms, chairs, tables, field guns, ammunition, were only some items. Doorkeepers were always in attendance. Sentinels patrolled the streets and the roof. The great warehouse took on an exceedingly animated appearance.
The Executive Committee was in session all of each day. It became known that a "black list" of some sort was in preparation. On the heels of this orders came for the Vigilante police, instructing them to arrest certain men and to warn certain others to leave town immediately. It was evident that a clean sweep was contemplated.
Among the first of those arrested was the notorious Yankee Sullivan, an ex- prize fighter, ward heeler, ballot-box staffer, and shoulder striker. He had always been a pillar of strength to those engaged in corrupt practices. This man went to pieces completely. He confessed the details of many of his own crimes but, what was more important, implicated many others as well. His testimony was invaluable, not necessarily as final proof against those whom he accused, but as indications for thorough investigations. Finally, unexpectedly, he committed suicide in his cell. It seems he had been accustomed to from sixty to eighty drinks of whiskey a day, and the sudden, complete deprivation had destroyed him. Warned by this, the committee henceforward issued regular rations of whiskey to its prisoners!
Trials in due order, with counsel for defence and ample opportunity to call witnesses, went on briskly. Those who anticipated more hangings were disappointed. It became known that the committee had set for itself the rule that capital punishment would be inflicted only for crimes so punishable by the regular law. But each outgoing ship carried crowds of those on whom had been passed the sentence of banishment. The majority of these were, of course, low thugs, "Sydney ducks," hangers on; but a very large proportion were taken from what had been known as the city's best. In the law courts these men would in many cases have been declared as white as the driven snow. But they were undesirable citizens; the committee so decided them; and bade them begone. Charles Duane, Wooley Kearney, William Carr, Edward Bulger, Philander Brace, William McLean, J.D. Musgrave, and Peter Wightman were well-known and influential names found on the "black list," Peter Wightman, James White, and our old friend, Ned McGowan, ran away. Hundreds of others left the city. A terror spread among the ignorant and vicious of the underworld. Some of the minor offenders brought in by the Vigilante police were by the Executive Committee turned over to the regular law courts. _Every one of such cases was promptly convicted by those courts_!
This did not look much like disbanding, nor did any opportunity for wholesale arrest of the anarchists seem imminent. The leaders of the Law and Order faction were at last aroused.
"This is more than anarchy; it is revolution," said Judge Caldwell. "It is a successful revolution because it is organized. The people of this city are scattered and powerless. They in turn should be organized to combat the forces of disorder."
In pursuance of this belief--that the public at large needed only to be called together in order to defend its institutions--handbills were printed and newspaper notices published calling a meeting for June and in Portsmouth Square. Elaborate secret preparations, involving certain distributions of armed men were made to prevent what was considered certain interference. This was useless. Immediately after the appearance of the notice the Committee of Vigilance issued orders that the meeting was in no manner to be disturbed, and hung out placards reading:
"Members of the Vigilance Committee: Order must be maintained."
"Friends of the Vigilance Committee: Keep out of the Square," etc.
The meeting was well attended. Enormous crowds gathered, not only in and around the square itself, but in balconies and windows and on housetops. It was a ribald, disrespectful crowd, evidently out for a good time, calling back and forth, shouting question or comment at the men gathered about the speaker's platform.
"What kind of a circus do you call this show, anyway?" roared a huge, bare- armed miner in red shirt.
"This is the Law and Murder meeting," instantly answered some one from a balcony.
This phrase tickled the crowd hugely. The words were passed from man to man. Eventually they became the stereotyped retort. "Stranglers!" sneered one faction. "Law and Murder!" flung back the other.
On the platform stood or sat the owners of many of the city's proud names-- judges, jurists, merchants, holders of high political office, men whose influence a month ago had been paramount and irresistible. Among them were famed orators, men who had never failed to hold and influence a crowd. But two hundred feet away little could be heard. It early became evident that, though there would be no interference, the sentiment of the crowd was against them. And, what was particularly maddening, the sentiment was good- humoured. Even the compliment of being taken seriously was denied them!
Colonel Ed Baker came forward to speak. The colonel's gift of eloquence was such that, in spite of his known principles, his lack of scruple, his insincerity, he won his way to a picturesque popularity and fame. Later he delivered a funeral oration over the remains of David Broderick that has gone far to invest the memory of that hard-headed, venal, unscrupulous politician with an aura of romance. But the crowd would have little of him this day. An almost continuous uproar drowned his efforts. Catch words such as liberty, constitution, _ habeas corpus_, trial by jury, freedom, etc., occasionally became audible. The people were not interested.
"See Cora's defender!" cried someone, voicing the general suspicion that Baker had been one of the little gambler's hidden counsel. "Cora!" "Ed Baker!" "Ten thousand dollars!" "Out of that, you old reprobate!" jeered the audience. He spoke ten minutes against the storm, then yielded, red faced and angry. Others tried in vain. A Southerner named Benham, while deploring passionately the condition of the city which had been seized by a mob, robbed of its sacred rights, etc., happened inadvertently to throw back his coat, thus revealing the butt of a Colt's revolver. The bystanders caught the point at once.
"There's a pretty Law and Order man!" they shrieked. "Hey, Benham! Don't you know it's against the law to go armed?"
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