[2] Root and Connelley's Overland Stage to California.
[3] So called because it was about half way between the Missouri River and Denver.
[4] Reports as to the precise hour of starting do not all agree. It was probably late in the afternoon or early in the evening, no later than 6:30.
[5] Authorities differ somewhat as to the personnel of the first trip; also as to the number of letters carried.
[6] On account of the Mormon outbreak and the troubles of 1857-58, there was at this time much ill-feeling in Congress against Utah. Matters were finally smoothed out and the bill in question was of course dropped. Utah was loyal to the Union throughout the Civil War.
[7] Eastbound the first rider carried about seventy letters.
[8] The idea of a Pony Express was not a new one in 1859. Marco Polo relates that Genghis Khan, ruler of Chinese Tartary had such a courier service about one thousand years ago. This ambitious monarch, it is said, had relay stations twenty-five miles apart, and his riders sometimes covered three hundred miles in twenty-four hours.
About a hundred years back, such a system was in vogue in various countries of Europe.
Early in the nineteenth century before the telegraph was invented, a New York newspaper man named David Hale used a Pony Express system to collect state news. A little later, in 1830, a rival publisher, Richard Haughton, political editor of the New York Journal of Commerce borrowed the same idea. He afterward founded the Boston Atlas, and by making relays of fast horses and taking advantage of the services offered by a few short lines of railroad then operating in Massachusetts, he was enabled to print election returns by nine o'clock on the morning after election.
This idea was improved by James W. Webb, Editor of the New York Courier and Enquirer, a big daily of that time. In 1832, Webb organized an express rider line between New York and Washington. This undertaking gave his paper much valuable prestige.
In 1833, Hale and Hallock of the Journal of Commerce started a rival line that enabled them to publish Washington news within forty-eight hours, thus giving their paper a big "scoop" over all competitors. Papers in Norfolk, Va., two hundred and twenty-nine miles south-east of Washington actually got the news from the capitol out of the New York Journal of Commerce received by the ocean route, sooner than news printed in Washington could be sent to Norfolk by boat directly down the Potomac River.
The California Pony Express of historic fame was imitated on a small scale in 1861 by the Rocky Mountain News of Denver, then, as now, one of the great newspapers of the West. At that time, this enterprising daily owned and published a paper called the Miner's Record at Tarryall, a mining community some distance out of Denver. The News also had a branch office at Central City, forty-five miles up in the mountains. As soon as information from the War arrived over the California Pony Express and by stage out of old Julesburg from the Missouri River--Denver was not on the Pony Express route--it was hurried to these outlying points by fast horsemen. Thanks to this enterprise, the miners in the heart of the Rockies could get their War news only four days late.--Root and Connelley.
On entering the service of the Central Overland California and Pike's Peak Express Company, employees of the Pony Express were compelled to take an oath of fidelity which ran as follows:
"I, ----, do hereby swear, before the Great and Living God, that during my engagement, and while I am an employe of Russell, Majors & Waddell, I will, under no circumstances, use profane language; that I will drink no intoxicating liquors; that I will not quarrel or fight with any other employe of the firm, and that in every respect I will conduct myself honestly, be faithful to my duties, and so direct all my acts as to win the confidence of my employers. So help me God."[9]
It is not to be supposed that all, nor any considerable number of the Pony Express men were saintly, nor that they all took their pledge too seriously. Judged by present-day standards, most of these fellows were rough and unconventional; some of them were bad. Yet one thing is certain: in loyalty and blind devotion to duty, no group of employees will ever surpass the men who conducted the Pony Express. During the sixteen months of its existence, the riders of this wonderful enterprise, nobly assisted by the faithful station-keepers, travelled six hundred and fifty thousand miles, contending against the most desperate odds that a lonely wilderness and savage nature could offer, with the loss of only a single mail. And that mail happened to be of relatively small importance. Only one rider was ever killed outright while on duty. A few were mortally wounded, and occasionally their horses were disabled. Yet with the one exception, they stuck grimly to the saddle or trudged manfully ahead without a horse until the next station was reached. With these men, keeping the schedule came to be a sort of religion, a performance that must be accomplished--even though it forced them to play a desperate game the stakes of which were life and death. Many station men and numbers of riders while off duty were murdered by Indians. They were martyrs to the cause of patriotism and a newer and better civilization. Yet they were hirelings, working for good wages and performing their duties in a simple, matter-of-fact way. Their heroism was never a self-conscious trait.
The riders were young men, seldom exceeding one hundred and twenty-five pounds in weight. Youthfulness, nerve, a wide experience on the frontier and general adaptability were the chief requisites for the Pony Express business. Some of the greatest frontiersmen of the latter 'sixties and the 'seventies were trained in this service, either as pony riders or station men. The latter had even a more dangerous task, since in their isolated shacks they were often completely at the mercy of Indians.
That only one rider was ever taken by the savages was due to the fact that the pony men rode magnificent horses which invariably outclassed the Indian ponies in speed and endurance. The lone man captured while on duty was completely surrounded by a large number of savages on the Platte River in Nebraska. He was shot dead and though his body was not found for several days, his pony, bridled and saddled, escaped safely with the mail which was duly forwarded to its destination. That far more riders were killed or injured while off duty than when in the saddle was due solely to the wise precaution of the Company in selecting such high-grade riding stock. And it took the best of horseflesh to make the schedule.
The riders dressed as they saw fit. The average costume consisted of a buckskin shirt, ordinary trousers tucked into high leather boots, and a slouch hat or cap. They always went armed. At first a Spencer carbine was carried strapped to the rider's back, besides a sheath knife at his side. In the saddle holsters he carried a pair of Colt's revolvers. After a time the carbines were left off and only side arms taken along. The carrying of larger guns meant extra weight, and it was made a rule of the Company that a rider should never fight unless compelled to do so. He was to depend wholly upon speed for safety. The record of the service fully justified this policy.
While the horses were of the highest grade, they were of mixed breed and were purchased over a wide range of territory. Good results were obtained from blooded animals from the Missouri Valley, but considerable preference was shown for the western-bred mustangs. These animals were about fourteen hands high and averaged less than nine hundred pounds in weight. A former blacksmith for the Company who was at one time located at Seneca, Kansas, recalls that one of these native ponies often had to be thrown and staked down with a rope tied to each foot before it could be shod. Then, before the smith could pare the hoofs and nail on the shoes, it was necessary for one man to sit astride the animal's head, and another on its body, while the beast continued to struggle and squeal. To shoe one of these animals often required a half day of strenuous work.
As might be expected, the horse as well as rider traveled very light. The combined weight of the saddle, bridle and saddle bags did not exceed thirteen pounds. The saddle-bag used by the pony rider for carrying mail was called a mochila; it had openings in the center so it would fit snugly over the horn and tree of the saddle and yet be removable without delay. The mochila had four pockets called cantinas in each of its corners one in front and one behind each of the rider's legs. These cantinas held the mail. All were kept carefully locked and three were opened en route only at military posts--Forts Kearney, Laramie, Bridger, Churchill and at Salt Lake City. The fourth pocket was for the local or way mail-stations. Each local station-keeper had a key and could open it when necessary. It held a time-card on which a record of the arrival and departure at the various stations where it was opened, was kept. Only one mochila was used on a trip; it was transferred by the rider from one horse to another until the destination was reached.
Letters were wrapped in oil silk to protect them from moisture, either from stormy weather, fording streams, or perspiring animals. While a mail of twenty pounds might be carried, the average weight did not exceed fifteen pounds. The postal charges were at first, five dollars for each half-ounce letter, but this rate was afterward reduced by the Post Office Department to one dollar for each half ounce. At this figure it remained as long as the line was in business. In addition to this rate, a regulation government envelope costing ten cents, had to be purchased. Patrons generally made use of a specially light tissue paper for their correspondence. The large newspapers of New York, Boston, Chicago, St. Louis, and San Francisco were among the best customers of the service. Some of the Eastern dailies even kept special correspondents at St. Joseph to receive and telegraph to the home office news from the West as soon as it arrived. On account of the enormous postage rates these newspapers would print special editions of Civil War news on the thinnest of paper to avoid all possible mailing bulk.
Mr. Frank A. Root of Topeka, Kansas, who was Assistant Postmaster and Chief Clerk in the post office at Atchison during the last two months of the line's existence, in 1861, says that during that period the Express, which was running semi-weekly, brought about three hundred and fifty letters each trip from California[10]. Many of these communications were from government and state officials in California and Oregon, and addressed to the Federal authorities at Washington, particularly to Senators and Representatives from these states and to authorities of the War Department. A few were addressed to Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States. A large number of these letters were from business and professional men in Portland, San Francisco, Oakland, and Sacramento, and mailed to firms in the large cities of the East and Middle West. Not to mention the rendering of invaluable help to the Government in retaining California at the beginning of the War, the Pony Express was of the greatest importance to the commercial interests of the West.
The line was frequently used by the British Government in forwarding its Asiatic correspondence to London. In 1860, a report of the activities of the English fleet off the coast of China was sent through from San Francisco eastward over this route. For the transmission of these dispatches that Government paid one hundred and thirty-five dollars Pony Express charges.
Nor did the commercial houses of the Pacific Coast cities appear to mind a little expense in forwarding their business letters. Mr. Root says there would often be twenty-five one dollar "Pony" stamps and the same number of Government stamps--a total in postage of twenty-seven dollars and fifty cents--on a single envelope. Not much frivolity passed through these mails.
Pony Express riders received an average salary of from one hundred dollars to one hundred and twenty-five dollars a month. A few whose rides were particularly dangerous or who had braved unusual dangers received one hundred and fifty dollars. Station men and their assistants were paid from fifty to one hundred dollars monthly.
Of the eighty riders usually in the service, half were always riding in either direction, East and West. The average "run" was seventy-five miles, the men going and coming over their respective divisions on each succeeding day. Yet there were many exceptions to this rule, as will be shown later. At the outset, although facilities for shorter relays had been provided, it was planned to run each horse twenty-five miles with an average of three horses to the rider; but it was soon found that a horse could rarely continue at a maximum speed for so great a distance. Consequently, it soon became the practice to change mounts every ten or twelve miles or as nearly that as possible. The exact distance was governed largely by the nature of the country. While this shortening of the relay necessitated transferring the mochila many more times on each trip, it greatly facilitated the schedule; for it was at once seen that the average horse or pony in the Express service could be crowded to the limit of its speed over the reduced distance.
One of the station-keeper's most important duties was to have a fresh horse saddled and bridled a half hour before the Express was due. Only two minutes time was allowed for changing mounts. The rider's approach was watched for with keen anxiety. By daylight he could generally be seen in a cloud of dust, if in the desert or prairie regions. If in the mountains, the clear air made it possible for the station men to detect his approach a long way off, provided there were no obstructions to hide the view. At night the rider would make his presence known by a few lusty whoops. Dashing up to the station, no time was wasted. The courier would already have loosed his mochila, which he tossed ahead for the keeper to adjust on the fresh horse, before dismounting. A sudden reining up of his foam-covered steed, and "All's well along the road, Hank!" to the station boss, and he was again mounted and gone, usually fifteen seconds after his arrival. Nor was there any longer delay when a fresh rider took up the "run."
Situated at intervals of about two hundred miles were division points[11] in charge of locally important agents or superintendents. Here were kept extra men, animals, and supplies as a precaution against the raids of Indians, desperadoes, or any emergency likely to arise. Division agents had considerable authority; their pay was as good as that received by the best riders. They were men of a heroic and even in some instances, desperate character, in spite of their oath of service. In certain localities much infested with horse thievery and violence it was necessary to have in charge men of the fight-the-devil-with-fire type in order to keep the business in operation. Noted among this class of Division agents, with headquarters at the Platte Crossing near Fort Kearney, was Jack Slade[12], who, though a good servant of the Company, turned out to be one of the worst "bad" men in the history of the West. He had a record of twenty-six "killings" to his credit, but he kept his Division thoroughly purged of horse thieves and savage marauders, for he knew how to "get" his man whenever there was trouble.
The schedule was at first fixed at ten days for eight months of the year and twelve days during the winter season, but this was soon lowered to eight and ten days respectively. An average speed of ten miles an hour including stops had to be maintained on the summer schedule. In the winter the run was sustained at eight miles an hour; deep snows made the latter performance the more difficult of the two.
The best record made by the Pony Express was in getting President Lincoln's inaugural speech across the continent in March, 1861. This address, outlining as it did the attitude of the new Chief Executive toward the pending conflict, was anticipated with the deepest anxiety by the people on the Pacific Coast. Evidently inspired by the urgency of the situation, the Company determined to surpass all performances. Horses were led out, in many cases, two or three miles from the stations, in order to meet the incoming riders and to secure the supreme limit of speed and endurance on this momentous trip. The document was carried through from St. Joseph to Sacramento--1966 miles--in just seven days and seventeen hours, an average speed of ten and six-tenths miles an hour. And this by flesh and blood, pounding the dirt over the plains, mountains, and deserts! The best individual performance on this great run was by "Pony Bob" Haslam who galloped the one hundred and twenty miles from Smith's Creek to Fort Churchill in eight hours and ten minutes, an average of fourteen and seven-tenths miles per hour. On this record-breaking trip the message was carried the six hundred and seventy-five miles between St. Joseph and Denver[13] in sixty-nine hours; the last ten miles of this leg of the journey being ridden in thirty-one minutes. Today, but few overland express trains, hauled by giant locomotives over heavy steel rails on a rock-ballasted roadbed average more than thirty miles per hour between the Missouri and the Pacific Coast.
The news of the election of Lincoln in November 1860, and President Buchanan's last message a month later were carried through in eight days.
Late in the winter and early in the spring of 1861, just prior to the beginning of the war, many good records were made with urgent Government dispatches. News of the firing upon Fort Sumter was taken through in eight days and fourteen hours. From then on, while the Pony Express service continued, the business men and public officials of California began giving prize money to the Company, to be awarded those riders who made the best time carrying war news. On one occasion they raised a purse of three hundred dollars for the star rider when a pouch containing a number of Chicago papers full of information from the South arrived at Sacramento a day ahead of schedule.
That these splendid achievements could never have been attained without a wonderful degree of enthusiasm and loyalty on the part of the men, scarcely needs asserting. The pony riders were highly respected by the stage and freight employees--in fact by all respectable men throughout the West. Nor were they honored merely for what they did; they were the sort of men who command respect. To assist a rider in any way was deemed a high honor; to do aught to retard him was the limit of wrong-doing, a woeful offense. On the first trip west-bound, the rider between Folsom and Sacramento was thrown, receiving a broken leg. Shortly after the accident, a Wells Fargo stage happened along, and a special agent of that Company, who chanced to be a passenger, seeing the predicament, volunteered to finish the run. This he did successfully, reaching Sacramento only ninety minutes late. Such instances are typical of the manly cooperation that made the Pony Express the true success that it was.
Mark Twain, who made a trip across the continent in 1860 has left this glowing account[14] of a pony and rider that he saw while traveling overland in a stage coach:
We had a consuming desire from the beginning, to see a pony rider; but somehow or other all that passed us, and all that met us managed to streak by in the night and so we heard only a whiz and a hail, and the swift phantom of the desert was gone before we could get our heads out of the windows. But now we were expecting one along every moment, and would see him in broad daylight. Presently the driver exclaims:
"Here he comes!"
Every neck is stretched further and every eye strained wider away across the endless dead level of the prairie, a black speck appears against the sky, and it is plain that it moves. Well I should think so! In a second it becomes a horse and rider, rising and falling, rising and falling--sweeping toward us nearer and nearer growing more and more distinct, more and more sharply defined--nearer and still nearer, and the flutter of hoofs comes faintly to the ear--another instant a whoop and a hurrah from our upper deck, a wave of the rider's hands but no reply and man and horse burst past our excited faces and go winging away like the belated fragment of a storm!
So sudden is it all, and so like a flash of unreal fancy, that but for a flake of white foam left quivering and perishing on a mail sack after the vision had flashed by and disappeared, we might have doubted whether we had seen any actual horse and man at all, maybe.
[9] This was the same pledge which the original firm had required of its men. Both Russell, Majors, and Waddell, and the C. O. C. and P. P. Exp. Co., which they incorporated, adhered to a rigid observance of the Sabbath. They insisted on their men doing as little work as possible on that day, and had them desist from work whenever possible. And they stuck faithfully to these policies. Probably no concern ever won a higher and more deserved reputation for integrity in the fulfillment of its contracts and for business reliability than Russell, Majors, and Waddell.
[10] Exact figures are not obtainable for the west bound mail but it was probably not so heavy.
At this time--Sept., 1861--the telegraph had been extended from the Missouri to Fort Kearney, Nebraska, and letter pouches from the Pony Express were sent by overland stage from Kearney to Atchison. Messages of grave concern were wired as soon as this station was reached.
[11] These were executive divisions and not to be confused with the riders' divisions. The latter were merely the stations separating each man's "run."
[12] Slade was afterward hanged by vigilantes in Virginia City, Montana. The authentic story of his life surpasses in romance and tragedy most of the pirate tales of fiction.
[13] The dispatch was taken from the main line to the Colorado capital by special service. Denver, it will be remembered, was not on the regular "Pony route," which ran north of that city. There was then no telegraph in operation west of the Missouri River in Kansas or Nebraska.
[14] Roughing It.
When the Southern states withdrew, a conspiracy was on foot to force California out of the Union, and organize a new Republic of the Pacific with the Sierra Madre and the Rocky Mountains for its Eastern boundary. This proposed commonwealth, when once erected, and when it had subjugated all Union men in the West who dared oppose it, would eventually unite with the Confederacy; and in event of the latter's success--which at the opening of the war to many seemed certain--the territory of the Confederate States of America would embrace the entire Southwest, and stretch from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Aside from its general plans, the exact details of this plot are of course impossible to secure. But that the conspiracy existed has never been disproved.
That the rebel sympathizers in California were plotting, as soon as the War began, to take the Presidio at the entrance to the Golden Gate, together with the forts on Alcatraz Island, the Custom House, the Mint, the Post Office, and all United States property, and then having made the formation of their Republic certain, invade the Mexican State of Sonora and annex it to the new commonwealth, has never been gainsaid. That these conspiracies existed and were held in grave seriousness is revealed by the official correspondence of that time. That they had been fomenting for many months is apparently revealed by this additional fact: during Buchanan's administration, John B. Floyd, a southern man who gave up his position to fight for the Confederacy, was Secretary of War. When the Rebellion started, it was found[15] that Floyd, while in office, had removed 135,430 firearms, together with much ammunition and heavy ordnance, from the big Government arsenal at Springfield, Massachusetts, and distributed them at various points in the South and Southwest. Of this number, fifty thousand[16] were sent to California where twenty-five thousand muskets had already been stored. And all this was done underhandedly, without the knowledge of Congress.
California was unfortunate in having as a representative in the United States Senate at this time, William Gwin, also a man of southern birth who had cast his fortunes in the Golden State at the outset, when the gold boom was on. Until secession was imminent, Gwin served his adopted state well enough. His encouragement of the Pony Express enterprise has already been pointed out. It is doubtful if he were statesman enough to have foreseen the significant part this organization was to play in the early stages of the War. Otherwise his efforts in its behalf must have been lacking--though the careers of political adventurers like Gwin are full of strange inconsistencies[17].
Speaking in the Senate, on December 12, 1859, Gwin declared, that he believed that "all slave holding states of this confederacy can establish a separate and independent government that will be impregnable to the assaults of all foreign enemies." He further went on to show that they had the power to do it, and asserted that if the southern states went out of the Union, "California would be with the South." Then, as a convincing proof of his duplicity, he had these pro-rebel statements stricken from the official report of his speech, that his constituents might not take fright, and perhaps spoil some of the designs which he and his scheming colleagues had upon California. Of course these remarks reached the ears of his constituents anyhow, and though prefaced by a studied evasiveness on his part, they contributed much to the feeling of unrest and insecurity that then prevailed along the Coast.
It is of course a well-known fact that California never did secede, and that soon after the war began, she swung definitely and conclusively into the Union column. The danger of secession was wholly potential. Yet potential dangers are none the less real. Had it not been for the determined energies of a few loyalists in California, led by General E. A. Sumner and cooperating with the Federal Government by means of the swiftest communication then possible--the Pony Express--history today, might read differently.
Now to turn once more to the potential dangers[18] that made the California crisis a reality. About three-eighths of the population were of southern descent and solidly united in sympathy for the Confederate states. This vigorous minority included upwards of sixteen thousand Knights of the Golden Circle, a pro-Confederate secret organization that was active and dangerous in all the doubtful states in winning over to the southern cause those who feebly protested loyalty to the Union but who opposed war. Many of these "knights" were prosperous and substantial citizens who, working under the guise of their local respectability, exerted a profound influence. Here then, at the outset, was a vigorous and not a small minority, whose influence was greatly out of proportion to their numbers because of their zeal; and who would have seized the balance of power unless held in check by an aroused Union sentiment and military intimidation.
Another class of men to be feared was a small but powerful group representing much wealth, a financial class which proverbially shuns war because of the expense which war involves; a class that always insists upon peace, even at the cost of compromised honor. These men, with the influence which their money commanded, would inevitably espouse the side that seemed the most likely of speedy success; and in view of the early successes of the Confederate armies and the zealous proselytizing of rebel sympathizers in their midst they were a potential risk to loyal California.
The native Spanish or Mexican classes then numerically strong in that state, were appealed to by the anti-Unionists from various cunning approaches, chief of which was the theory that the many real estate troubles and complicated land titles by which they had been annoyed since the separation from Old Mexico in 1847, would be promptly adjusted under Confederate authority. While nearly all these natives were ignorant, many held considerable property and they in turn influenced their poorer brethren. Chimerical as this argument may sound, it had much weight.
Another group of persons also large potentially and a serious menace when proselyted by the apostles of rebellion, were the squatters and trespassers who were occupying land to which they had no lawful right. Many of these men were reckless; some had already been entangled in the courts because of their false land claims. Hence their attitude toward the existing Government was ugly and defiant. Yet they were now assured that they might remain on their lands forever undisturbed, under a rebel régime.
Added to all these sources of danger was the attitude of the thousands of well-meaning people--who, regardless of rebel solicitation, were at first indifferent. They thought that the great distance which separated them from the seat of war made it a matter of but little importance whether California aroused herself or not. They were of course counseling neutrality as the easiest way of avoiding trouble.
Turning now to the forces, moral, military, and political, that were working to save California--first there was a loyal newspaper press, which saw and followed its duty with unflinching devotion. It firmly held before the people the loyal responsibility of the state and declared that the ties of union were too sacred to be broken. It was the moral duty of the people to remain loyal. It truthfully asserted that California's influence in the Federal Union should be an example for other states to follow. If the idea of a Pacific Republic were repudiated by their own citizens, such action would discourage secession elsewhere and be a great moral handicap to that movement. And the press further pointed out with convincing clearness, that should the Union be dissolved, the project for a Pacific Railroad[19] with which the future of the Commonwealth was inevitably committed, would likely fail.
Aroused by the moral importance of its position, the state legislature, early in the winter of 1860-1861, had passed a resolution of fidelity to the Union, in which it declared "That California is ready to maintain the rights and honor of the National Government at home and abroad, and at all times to respond to any requisitions that may be made upon her to defend the Republic against foreign or domestic foes." Succeeding events proved the genuineness of this resolve.
In the early spring of 1861, the War Department sent General Edwin A. Sumner to take command of the Military Department of the Pacific with headquarters at San Francisco, supplanting General Albert Sidney Johnston who resigned to fight for the South. This was a most fortunate appointment, as Sumner proved a resourceful and capable official, ideally suited to meet the crisis before him. Nor does this reflect in any way upon the superb soldierly qualities of his predecessor. Johnston was no doubt too manly an officer to take part in the romantic conspiracies about him. He was every inch a brave soldier who did his fighting in the open. Like Robert E. Lee, he joined the Confederacy in conscientious good faith, and he met death bravely at Shiloh in April, 1862.
Sumner was a man of action and he faced the situation squarely. To him, California and the nation will always be indebted. One of his first decisive acts was to check the secession movement in Southern California by placing a strong detachment of soldiers at Los Angeles. This force proved enough to stop any incipient uprisings in that part of the state. Some of the disturbing element in this district then moved over into Nevada where cooperation was made with the pro-Confederate men there. The Nevada rebel faction had made considerable headway by assuring unsuspecting persons that it was acting on the authority of the Confederate Government. On June 5, 1861, the rebel flag was unfurled at Virginia City. Again Sumner acted. He immediately sent a Federal force to garrison Fort Churchill, and a body of men under Major Blake and Captain Moore seized all arms found in the possession of suspected persons. A rebel militia company with four hundred men enrolled and one hundred under arms was found and dispersed by the Federals. This decisive action completely stopped any uprisings across the state line, uprisings which might easily have spread into California.
In the meantime, under General Sumner's direction, soldiers had been enlisted and were being rapidly drilled for any emergency. The War Department, on being advised of this available force, at once sent the following dispatch, which, with those that follow are typical of the correspondence which the Pony Express couriers were now rushing across the Continent toward and from Washington.
Telegraph and Pony Express.Adjutant-General's Office.
Washington, July 24, 1861.Brigadier General Sumner,Commanding Department of the Pacific.
One regiment of infantry and five companies of cavalry have been accepted from California to aid in protecting the overland mail route via Salt Lake.
Please detail officers to muster these troops into service. Blanks will be sent by steamer.
By order: George D. Ruggles.Assistant Adjutant General.
While recognizing the great need of extending proper military protection to the mail route, it must have been disheartening to Sumner and the loyalists to see this force ordered into service outside the state. For now, late in the summer of 1861, the time of national crisis--the Californian trouble was approaching its climax. On July 20, the Union army had been beaten at Bull Run and driven back, a rabble of fugitives, into the panic stricken capital. Then came weeks and months of delay and uncertainty while the overcautious McClellan sought to build up a new military machine. The entire North was overspread with gloom; the Confederates were jubilant and full of self-confidence. In California the psychological situation was similar but even more acute, for encouraged by Confederate success, the rebel faction became bolder than ever, and openly planned to win the state election to be held on September 4. If successful at the polls, the reins of organized political power would pass into its hands and a secession convention would be a direct possibility. And to intensify the danger was the confirmed indifference or stubbornness of many citizens who seemed to place petty personal differences before the interests of the state and nation at large.
As is well known, Lincoln and the Federal Government accepted the defeat at Bull Run calmly, and set about with grim determination to whip the South at any cost. The President asked Congress for four hundred thousand men and was voted five hundred thousand. In pursuance of such policies, these urgent dispatches were hurried across the country:
War Department.Washington, August 14, 1861.Hon. John G. Downey,
Governor of California, Sacramento City, Cal.
Please organize, equip, and have mustered into service, at the earliest date possible, four regiments of infantry and one regiment of cavalry, to be placed at the disposal of General Sumner.
Simon Cameron, Secretary of War.
By telegraph to Fort Kearney and thence by Pony Express and telegraph.
War Department, August 15, 1861.Hon. John G. Downey,
Governor of California, Sacramento City, Cal.
In filling the requisition given you August 14th, for five regiments, please make General J. H. Carleton of San Francisco, colonel of a cavalry regiment, and give him proper authority to organize as promptly as possible.
Simon Cameron,Secretary of War.
Telegraph and Pony Express and telegraph.
The work of enlisting the five thousand men thus requisitioned was carried forward with great rapidity. Within two weeks, on the 28th, the Pony Express brought word that the War Department was about to order this force overland into Texas, to act, no doubt, as a barrier to the advancing Confederate armies who were then planning an invasion of New Mexico as the first decisive step in carrying the conflict into the heart of the Southwest. It was understood, further, that General Sumner would be ordered to vacate his position as Commander of the Department of the Pacific and lead his recruits into the service.
To the authorities at Washington, a campaign of aggression with western troops had no doubt seemed the best means of defending California and adjacent territory from Confederate attack. To the Unionists of California, the report that their troops and Sumner were to leave the state spelt extreme discouragement. They had felt some degree of hope and security so long as organized forces were in their midst, and the presence of Sumner everywhere inspired confidence among discouraged patriots. To be deprived of their soldiers was bad enough; to lose Sumner was intolerable. Accordingly, a formal petition protesting against this action, was drawn up, addressed to the War Department, and signed by important firms and prominent business men of San Francisco[20].
In this petition they said among other things, that the War Department probably was not aware of the real state of affairs in California, and they openly requested that the order, be rescinded. They declared that a majority of the California State officers were out-and-out secessionists and that the others were at least hostile to the administration and would accept a peace policy at any sacrifice. They were suspicious of the Governor's loyalty and declared that, "Every appointment made by our Governor within the last three months, unmistakably indicates his entire sympathy and cooperation with those plotting to sever California from her allegiance to the Union, and that, too, at the hazard of Civil War."[21]
Continuing at detailed length, the petitioners spoke of the great effort being put forth by the secession element to win the forthcoming election. Whereas their opponents were united, the Union party was divided into a Douglas and a Republican faction. Should the anti-Unionists triumph, they declared there were reasons to expect not merely the loss of California to the Union ranks but internecine strife and fratricidal murders such as were then ravaging the Missouri and Kansas border.
The petition then pointed out the truly great importance of California to the Union, and asserted that no precaution leading to the preservation of her loyalty should be overlooked. It was a thousand times easier to retain a state in allegiance than to overcome disloyalty disguised as state authority. The best way to check treasonable activities was to convince traitors of their helplessness. The petitioners further declared that to deprive California of needed United States military support just then, would be a direct encouragement to traitors. An ounce of precaution was worth a pound of cure.
The loyalists triumphed in the state election on September 4, 1861, and on that date the California crisis was safely passed. The contest, to be sure, had revealed about twenty thousand anti-Union voters in the state, but the success of the Union faction restored their feeling of self-confidence. The pendulum had at last swung safely in the right direction, and henceforth California could be and was reckoned as a loyal asset to the Union. Such expressions of disloyalty as her secessionists continued to disclose, were of a sporadic and flimsy nature, never materializing into a formidable sentiment; and, adding to their discouragement, the failure of the Confederate invasion of New Mexico in 1862, was no doubt an important factor in suppressing any further open desires for secession.
Sumner was not called East until the October following the election. His removal of course caused keen regret along the coast; but Colonel George Wright, his successor in charge of the Department of the Pacific, proved a masterful man and in every way equal to the situation. In the long run, Colonel Wright probably was as satisfactory to the loyal people of California as General Sumner had been. The five thousand troops were not detailed for duty in the South. Like the first detachment of fifteen hundred, their efforts were directed mainly to protecting the overland mails and guarding the frontier[22].
Throughout this crisis, news was received twice a week by the Pony Express, and, be it remembered, in less than half the time required by the old stage coach. Of its services then, no better words can be used than those of Hubert Howe Bancroft.
It was the pony to which every one looked for deliverance; men prayed for the safety of the little beast, and trembled lest the service should be discontinued. Telegraphic dispatches from Washington and New York were sent to St. Louis and thence to Fort Kearney, whence the pony brought them to Sacramento where they were telegraphed to San Francisco.
Great was the relief of the people when Hole's bill for a daily mail service was passed and the service changed from the Southern to the Central route, as it was early in the summer. * * * Yet after all, it was to the flying pony that all eyes and hearts were turned.
The Pony Express was a real factor in the preservation of California to the Union.