Memoirs of Orange Jacobs

by Orange Jacobs

I have never been a believer in Divine interposition or impulsions, but I must confess that on that fatal evening, and on a few other occasions my rationalism was somewhat shaken. My usual route from my residence on Fourth Avenue to my office on James Street was down Marion Street. On that evening, arriving at Marion Street, under the influence of some occult force, or power, I stopped, looked down Marion Street, and saw the assassins of George Reynolds standing near the west end of the block and leaning against the wall of the Stacy premises. Impelled by this mysterious force, I involuntarily went on to Columbia Street, and, when nearly opposite on the block to the south, heard the report of the shot that ended the life of Reynolds. Soon after I arrived at my office, I was informed that Reynolds had been shot and that he was dying; that many citizens were assembling at the engine-house, and that my attendance was requested. I accompanied my informant to the engine-house and found there assembled from seventy to a hundred men, greatly excited and determined. We quickly formed ourselves into a Committee of Ways and Means, and resolved to spare no expense, nor to omit any means for the apprehension and punishment of the guilty parties. I was elected Chairman of that meeting. We also immediately sent out twenty-five armed men to patrol the streets leading out of town, and to guard, in boats, the water front. We soon after added to the patrol twenty-five more men; soon after, fifty more; and within an hour-and-one-half after the firing of the fatal shot, we had at least one hundred armed men, and detectives in the field, besides the active, vigilant, willing and intelligent regular police-force of the town. In addition, a select committee, headed by the Honorable William H. White, was appointed to investigate the circumstances of the shooting, and to ascertain, as nearly as possible, the facts and circumstances identifying the guilty parties. I remained in the engine-house until after one o'clock, listening to the reports, made by patrolmen concerning suspicious characters, which were summarily examined and in most cases were dismissed as unfounded; but in a few cases the order was made to keep these suspects under strict surveillance, awaiting further developments. Between one and two o'clock a. m. the report came in that the guilty parties had been arrested, delivered to the sheriff and by him locked up in the County jail. They had been found concealed under bales of hay on Harrington's wharf. One had in his possession a pistol, but recently discharged. There were two of them. The news of their capture spread like wildfire. The patrolmen and other citizens came rushing in to the engine-house; and when the captors gave an account of their success, they were angrily asked, why they had delivered them to the sheriff, and why they had not brought them to the engine-house? The question was ominous. They were told that the captives were in the proper custody; and they were asked what they wanted the captives brought to the engine-house for? The reply was, that they wanted to look at them. This was still more ominous. I saw that so firm was the conviction that the parties arrested and in the rightful custody of the sheriff, were the guilty parties, that if the populace could get hold of them they would be strung up, without examination or trial. To this threatened act I was opposed, and I left the meeting and went down to my office. The light was still burning in the front room; I extinguished it, and, leaving the front door unlocked, went to the rear or consultation-room, locked the door and sat in a chair to meditate in the darkness on the situation, or condition of affairs. I had not been there long before two persons whom I recognized by their voices came into the front room and called me by name. I did not answer. They then came to the door of the consultation-room, rapped on the door, called me by my name and gave their own names. I finally admitted them. They told me that they had just left the crowd at the engine-house, and that the determination was fast approaching unity, and, if its culmination was not prevented, the captured men would be taken out of the jail and hung that night. They thought that I might prevent such an unnecessary and unwarranted ending of our grand and successful work. Knowing that the sheriff was a man of nerve and courage, and fearless in the discharge of his official duty I dreaded the result of such an undertaking, and I finally consented to go.

Upon arriving at the engine-house I found it filled by an excited yet joyous crowd. I made my way through this crowd to the rear of the large assembly-room, and while working my way through, received something of an ovation. While yet standing, someone said: "Judge, we thought you had thrown off on us." "Never," I replied. "But to illustrate my position," I said, "let me tell a story: Three negroes, passionately fond of hunting, and whose ambition in that regard was not fully satisfied by the capture of deer, turkey and quail in their native State, decided on a hunting-trip in the Rocky Mountains, to add the capture of larger and more dangerous game to their trophies. Being fully equipped, they bought tickets for a recommended point in the mountains. Arriving there, they left the train and went up into the dark woods, the sunless canyon, the silent coves and snow-crowned mountains, where the denizens of the wild were supposed to dwell. On the second day of their camping-trip, they came upon a large grizzly bear in a mountain cove. They fired at the grizzly and wounded him. Then the scene changed, and the bear commenced to hunt them fiercely. Two of them succeeded in climbing trees, but were unable to take their guns up with them. Sam, the other, was pushed so closely that he was unable to tree. He ran in a circle, with the bear in close and hot pursuit. His companions, safely perched in their tree, halloed to him to run. 'Sam, for God's sake, run.' One of the companions slipped down from the tree and, as Sam and the bear approached him, made a successful shot and finished the race so far as bruin was concerned. Sam, as soon as he could get his breath, says: 'What did you niggers mean by crying out to me, run Sam, for God's sake, run? did you suppose I was such an enormous fool as to throw off on that race?'" I told two more of the most ludicrous and laughable stories that I could think of; the object being manifest: I wanted time for the sober second thought to assert itself. I continued somewhat thus: "Are you afraid that the sheriff will send away the prisoners tonight, or that they will escape? If so, that can be prevented by sending twenty-five or fifty, or if you please, one hundred men, to keep watch and guard until nine o'clock tomorrow morning, when the justice has promised me to hold a public examination of the prisoners in the Pavilion, where all may come and see them and hear the examination." The Honorable William H. White, who was present, made a clear, earnest and forcible speech in favor of the proposition, and it was carried by a good majority.

The Pavilion was on the Southeast corner of Front and Cherry Streets. It was used as a church, as a Court House, as a theater, and for all public meetings. It was over a hundred feet in length and about thirty feet in width. Its entrance was from Front Street.

At the appointed time Justice Samuel Coombs was in his seat and the prisoners were present. They both pleaded not guilty. Honorable William H. White and myself acted as prosecuting attorneys. A Mr. Holcomb, a lawyer of good standing and ability, appeared for the prisoners and sharply cross-examined the witnesses sworn on the part of the Territory. The Pavilion was full of spectators, among them was his Honor Roger S. Greene, the then Chief Justice of the Territory. When the evidence was all in, the Territory waived its opening, but the prisoners' counsel made a brief argument in their behalf. The Territory waived its right to reply. During the progress of the examination, the windows in the rear of the Pavilion had been quietly removed.

The Justice, after a few moments of reflection, declared that the evidence of the prisoners' guilt was clear and convincing beyond a reasonable doubt, and the order of the Court was, that they be held for trial without bail. When the Justice had ceased speaking, someone—I have never learned who it was—slapped his hands together three or four times; and that immense audience rushed with one accord to the open windows in the rear, taking the prisoners along with them. Judge Greene, at first, seemed dazed by this sudden rush, but in a short time he started to follow the crowd. A man standing near seized him as he attempted to go, pulled down the theater curtain, threw it over the Judge's head, and securely held him until the crowd was nearly all out of the building, whereupon James McNaught quietly said: "Let him go." The Judge quickly rushed out of the building and down the alley to where the hanging was taking place. He seized one of the ropes and attempted to cut it, but he was soon hustled out of the crowd. Governor Elisha P. Ferry then advised him, as he could do nothing, to go home. This he did. The man who had thrown the theater-curtain over the Judge's head was asked why he did so; his answer was, that Justice ought to be blind, on such an occasion especially.

There were on the north side of James Street two large-sized maple shade trees standing eight or ten feet apart. It was in these trees that a strong scantling had been placed, to which the prisoners were hung. As soon as the two men had been swung up, someone in the crowd cried out: "Our work is not yet completed; let us hang the murderer of old man Sires to the same scantling." The idea was immediately seconded, and about one-half of the crowd went up to the County jail, broke down its doors, took the murderer who was awaiting his trial, put a rope about his neck and quickly returned with him to the fatal scantling. The rope was thrown over it, and he was swung into eternity.

I left the Pavilion soon after the crowd had retired, and walked slowly down to James Street. I arrived there just as the crowd was running down the hill with the murderer of Sires. A gentleman rushed up to me as I was slowly walking across James Street and said: "Judge, how do you feel about this proceeding?" I answered: "As a member of Judge Greene's Court, I feel terribly indignant; but as a private citizen, I think that I will recover."

Sires, who had been killed about a month before by a ruffian of the name of Payne, was an aged pioneer. His life for many years had been a rough one, and slightly bordering on toughness; but he had reformed and joined the church; and as he was a man of good ability, he occasionally preached. Confidence in his sincerity and genuine reform was general. He was poor, and, to aid in his support, he was given the office of policeman. While in the discharge of his duties as such, he was shot down by Payne. There was no doubt of Payne's guilt.

A coronor's jury on the hanging was summoned. Of this body I was a member and its foreman. We examined, I think, twelve witnesses. They all testified that John Doe and Richard Roe and Payne came to their death by hanging. Who were present, aiding, or abetting, or counselling, or advising, or actually doing the said hanging, or in any manner participating in the same, they all swore that they did not know. Finding that other and further investigation would be futile, we ceased taking testimony and joined in a verdict embodying what has been stated, with the addition that while we regretted the mode of their taking-off, yet we were certain in the death of the prisoners that the Territory had lost no desirable citizens, and Heaven had gained no subjects.

Court convened in a few days and Judge Greene gave the grand jury a well-prepared, able and elaborate charge, stating that everyone who participated in, or counselled, or advised, or actually performed the acts resulting in the death of these three men was at least guilty of manslaughter. He earnestly urged the grand jury to fearlessly investigate the matter, and if they were convinced that any person participated in the hanging of the three persons in any way spoken of by him, they ought to find indictments accordingly. Everybody honored the Judge for the faithful, fearless and full discharge of his duty in the matter; but his brave charge resulted in nothing. Thus ended the second, most tragic event in the history of the City of Seattle.