Captain Bill McDonald, Texas Ranger: A Story of Frontier Reform

by Albert Bigelow Paine

It was a careful dignified letter, entirely justified by the conditions. It is true the Revenue Agent did not fully explain in that last clause just what would be likely to cause the "embarrassment" when he appeared upon the scene "for the purpose of making an investigation," and the thoughtful assessor who had followed Bill McDonald's career and remembered some of his former investigations may have inferred that it would have something to do with guns.

Certainly that letter made those assessors mad. Also it made the people mad. And the newspapers. Even the people and newspapers of the counties that would benefit by the Full Rendition law—not quite understanding, at first—got mad as a preparation for further enlightenment. Never, since Joseph laid a twenty per cent. levy on the Egyptians, after first taking away all of their land, was there such a general madness over any tax order under the sun. In all the history of Texas there had been no such commotion—such a cyclone of indignation as that which had its storm center in the State Revenue Agent's office at Austin. Newspapers that only a week before had been praising Bill McDonald as the bravest man since Bowie and Travis—a fit successor to those heroes of the Alamo—now denounced him as a bloodthirsty desperado, who proposed to hold up the people of Texas as he had held up bad men—at the point of a six-shooter. They declared that his sole purpose was to fill the State Treasury to bursting with the people's money, so that it might be an easy prey for grafters, already lying in wait with schemes. Then they denounced Governor Campbell for appointing such a man, and prophesied his political ruin and general downfall. Some of them could not, and others would not, see that a full assessment for all was the only fair system, and that, if the values increased, the general rate of levy would lower accordingly. None so blind as those who will not see, and property owners, public and private, in counties where assessments had long been far too low to give them a fair share of the State's burdens, were naturally blinded by that self-interest which was stirred in with Adam's dust.

Indignation meetings prevailed. Assessors elected "by the people," told their constituents that they would "obey the will of the people," and tell any petty Revenue Agent that he could go to, with his bluff—that the "people" of Texas were bigger than any individual in it and knew what they wanted in the way of assessments, regardless of any fool laws to the contrary.

Perhaps the coolest man in the State sat in the State Revenue Agent's office at Austin, and smiled that bland winning smile of his as he greeted the reporters and declined to get mad or to recede from his position, merely referring them to the law as set down; dictating, between times, answers to excited assessors in which he assured them that his first letter was quite genuine and meant what it said, and that furthermore if they had—as some of them stated—already turned in their assessment rolls for 1907, they must go back and do it again, observing the law both in letter and spirit, in order to avoid, that little "embarrassment" when he should call somewhat later in the year. And this kicked up the dust worse than ever.

There was, however, a percentage of public sentiment in favor of the law and justice, regardless of personal interest. There were men in high places who stood boldly for the new order of assessment, and there were newspapers, even in the old rich counties that for a principle were willing to lose subscribers and pay the additional tax, besides. The names of those men and of those newspapers Texas should inscribe on a roll of honor in her State Capitol, for it was by such as those that some seventy years ago her independence was won.

Governor Campbell, assailed on every side, breasted the storm and stood firm. If his political structure must go down to ruin because of an effort to secure justice and the enforcement of the statutes as laid down, then perhaps the ruin would be better than the edifice. He discussed the matter thoughtfully and earnestly, here and there, when called upon, and was listened to with respect though with uncertain approval. Other officials throughout the State were inclined to be governed by the temper of their constituents. Yet there were notable exceptions. In February, 1907, at a convention of county judges, in Dallas, the statement was made that an attempt to carry out the instructions of the State Revenue Agent in the matter of the Full Rendition law would mean the political death of such county judges or commissioners as engaged in that effort. This statement, though wide, was not general. Among others to dissent was Judge Hill of Eastland County, who declared that if the people of Texas did not want a man in office who would carry out the law he, for one, would be glad to resign. That was a fine brave statement and had its effect. A resolution pledging the members of the association, individually and as a whole, to support and maintain the letter and spirit of the Full Rendition law, to the end that the taxes of the entire State might be equal and uniform, was unanimously adopted. The right word from the right source had been spoken. It began to be echoed in public places.

It was along in March, 1907, that the State Revenue Agent decided that he would not wait to call on the assessors during the year, but that he would gather them in Austin where he could talk to them, all together. A meeting of the State Association of Assessors, near the end of the month, was the result.

The assessors came together in many frames of mind, but mainly belligerent. Some of them had given it out to their constituents before they started that they were going down to tell that old Ranger that he might be able to round-up cattle-thieves and Mexicans, but that a bunch of county assessors would be a different matter. When these officials began to collect around the Capitol there was plenty of talk—not always complimentary. The State Revenue Agent loafed around among them. It was noticeable how the criticism subsided in the various groups as he sauntered in their direction. It was rumored that, though a civil officer, he still wore a "forty-five" in a holster and carried an "automatic" in his hip-pocket. When the members were finally assembled in general meeting, and "Captain Bill" rose to address them—they were quite still. He did not make a long speech, but it was to the point.

"We have been assessing in this go-as-you-please sort of a fashion a good while," he said, "and now we are going to do it the other way. We've been assessing by custom—now we're going to do it by law. The present tax rate is twenty cents on the hundred. We want to get it down to five cents on the hundred and adjust it so that every man will pay what he should—no more and no less. I don't want to pay out money any more than the next one, but I want to pay what is right, and I know you men want to do what is right, with your people, when you find out what the right thing is. This law is right, and just because we've been going according to an old unjust custom, is no reason now, why we shouldn't go according to an old and just law."