This incident occurred many years ago, but Mr. Vincent, now the dignified and courteous manager of the Western Union Telegraph Company, of Oakland, Cal., loves to linger over the memory of the happy days he spent in Arizona.
[A Governor for Fifteen Minutes Took the Bull by the Horns.]
It was ten minutes past the midnight hour; the last train for the night had pulled out, and J. Frank Howell, the night operator at Tin Cup, Ariz., began preparations for a little rest.
It was in the month of August, and the full harvest moon beamed down through the clear atmosphere resplendent and as bright almost as the midday sun. Glancing out towards the south trail Howell could see a horseman coming at full speed towards the lonely station. A few minutes later an active, fine looking man hurried in.
“I have a very important telegram to send to the Governor. I must get an answer in half an hour or an innocent man perishes. Come, do all you can and as quickly as you can!”
The speaker was Lee Henniger, the sheriff of Dos Cabezas. He had ridden forty miles since nine o’clock over the sandy desert to Tin Cup hoping to obtain a reprieve for Bob Beecher, who was under sentence to die at daybreak for murder.
A few hours previous a dying Mexican had confessed to the murder of which Beecher was to suffer. Frank Howell spent five minutes in vain to raise “Px.” He knew that the night operator there was taking press reports and could not hear him. Being, however, full of resources he called up the St. Louis office and sent the following message: “Chief operator, San Francisco: Have Phoenix answer on local quickly, a man’s life is in jeopardy.” Signed, “Howell, Tin Cup.”
It was with great joy that he heard an answering tick, tick from “Px” a few minutes later, and the following telegram was put on the wire: “Governor Smithers, Phoenix: Information just elicited that proves that Beecher condemned to be executed at daybreak this morning is innocent. Please wire reprieve, not a minute can be lost.” Signed, “Lee Henniger, sheriff.”
The operator at “Px,” Paul G. Tompkins, realized the importance of the message and standing San Francisco off for a few minutes hastened to deliver the telegram.