Tombstone Series ~Those Big Business Sons of Bitches ~ Letter to John L. Lewis ~ January 21, 1949

As a miner and mining engineer, my Grandfather had a unique perspective and intimate knowledge the conditions miners were forced to work under. During his time in Washington, DC he also took on Standard Oil, Land Grant Railroads, Bureau of Mines, Bureau of Land Management and the Interior Department to expose the "thefting and framing" of the American public out of billions of dollars of mineral rights. He felt it was his mission to bring the heat to the feet of those "Big Business Sons of Bitches". 

This letter is to John L. Lewis, head of the United Mine Workers of America.  I believe the letter they both refer to was the one grandfather wrote to Donovan Richardson, who was the publisher of the Christian Science Monitor at the time. It was published on May 22, 2015, under the title "Tombstone Series ~ Those Big Business Sons of Bitches ~ Letter to Donovan Richardson ~ November 10, 1949"

Looking at previous correspondence I believe the date on this letter, in relation to the others, should have been dated January 21, 1950 and not 1949, though we'll never know for sure.

History is a tapestry woven of threads and memories and times long forgotten. The beauty of these old letters is that a new light is shed on first hand accounts of important moments in history. Stay curious and as Grandpa used to say "Good Hunting".

Tombstone Series ~ Old Tombstone Bloody as Modern TV Version ~ October 11, 1961

I just found this newspaper column from The Arizona Republic buried inside an unmarked folder. Sometimes it pays to look twice, you could unearth a gem. 

The columnist: Donald Dedera was born March 16, 1929 in Arlington, Virginia. After high school, he enlisted in the USMC as a photographer. In 1948 he enrolled in Arizona State College in Tempe and graduated with a BA in Journalism in 1951. He worked for The Arizona Republic from 1951 to 1969 and became a daily feature columnist in 1953. His communications career spanned 60 years and includes approximately 23 books and over 2,000 journal and newspaper articles. This column came out of a conversation with my grandfather, John Sherman Bagg. 

Television struggled to become a national mass media in the 1950's, and became a cultural force, for better or worse, in the 1960's. One must appreciate the irony of the comment regarding a low juvenile delinquency rate in Tombstone. This article was written in 1961 when television was still in it's infancy, but apparently already having an influence on the children of the world. Two series stand out:

Tombstone Territory: 1957-1960 ~ "Tough sheriff Clay Hollister keeps the law in Tombstone, Arizona "The Town Too Tough to Die" with the support of his faithful deputies and the editor of the local newspaper".

Marshal Earp: 1955-1961 ~ "Marshall Earp keeps the law, first in Kansas and later in Arizona, using his over-sized pistols and a variety of sidekicks. Most of the saga is based loosely on fact, with historical bad guys and good guys, ending up with the famous shootout at the O.K. Corral".

Post Script: It was actually 7 months later when the family returned to Tombstone. They arrived on October 27, 1881, the day after the shootout at the OK Corral.

Tombstone Series ~ Those Big Business Sons of Bitches ~ Letter to Donovan Richardson ~ November 10, 1949

The following is a letter written by my grandfather, John Sherman Bagg, to Donovan Richardson, Chief Editorial Writer of the Christian Science Monitor. The original is typed on onion skin paper, both sides, and would have been unreadable if scanned. The few letters I have tell only part of the story, but I find them fascinating none the less. 

As a miner and mining engineer, grandfather had a unique perspective and intimate knowledge the conditions miners were forced to work under. During his time in Washington, DC he also took on Standard Oil, Land Grant Railroads, Bureau of Mines, Bureau of Land Management and the Interior Department to expose the "thefting and framing" of the American public out of billions of dollars of mineral rights. He felt it was his mission to bring the heat to the feet of those "Big Business Sons of Bitches". 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

La Salle Hotel

Washington 6, DC

November 10th, 1949

Donovan Richardson, Esq. 
Editor, Christian Science Monitor
1 Norway Street, Boston, 15, Mass

My Dear Donovan Richardson:

I am impelled, by the almost unanimous attitudes of the press, in their condemnation of John L. Lewis, to inquire into the situation a bit. 

I can understand and in a measure sympathize with the reporters and editors of newspapers whose news and editorials must temper their reporting and comment, with one eye and or ear on the income from advertising. But in the case of the Monitor, this is not deterrent to free reporting and honest comment. 

Throughout the recent battle between Mr. Lewis and the coal mine owners, Mr. Lewis appears to be the sole and only villain, who is starving his miners, boosting the price of Coal, so that General Motors cannot pay its top brass hundreds of thousands in salaries and bonuses, and fill the news columns full of boast and bombast, that they have just declared the greatest dividend to stockholders in their history. 

Did you ever stop to realize that the $26,000,000,000 (26 billion) in Kentucky is really stored labor? Labor which the labored DIDN'T get paid for? Did you ever stop to realize that coal in the ground is stored sunlight?  And that without labor, IT COULD NOT BE UTILIZED again? 

Did you ever work underground in a mine 11 1/2 hours per day, portal to portal, for $2.50 per day, less board and lodging, and come off shift so tired that you had to bomb your guts with 3 cups of black coffee before you could coax them into excepting what passed for food?

I worked under those conditions, in the mine that the Miners Union blew up in Idaho two years before I went there (The Dynamite Express, Bunker Hill Mine, Coeur d'Alene Mining District, April 29, 1899). It was the Big Bill Haywoods and Gompers and Greens and John L Lewises, that corrected those "Free enterprise" abuses. Today, that same mine is building homes for its men, offering them every inducement to bring their families and get a minimum of $10 per day for eight hours portal to portal. They are no longer animals to be worked to death and thrown over the dump, but reclaimed, self respecting Americans, supporting and fighting for their birthright. 

It was the Big Bill Haywoods, Gompers, Greens and John L Lewises, that brought that about. I wonder if you ever thought of making a trip to the coal fields and seeing just what the conditions are in those spots. Have you ever seriously tried to look at this problem through the eyes of the men who spend their sunlight hours in the damp dark? These are what we are trying to build a democracy with. A Christian democracy.

You know, Lincoln and Douglas met and debated the issues. Dulles asked Lehman to do the same thing but he ducked issue. I wonder if the Monitor would start a debate column using the present reporters, and news sources, and give me the free use of the other side of the debate? I can assure you that I could paint a very different picture than the one that is being vended as honest news.

Just so you won't think that I am trying to help the John L Lewis HOLD WHAT HE HAS HIJACKED out of poverty stricken "free enterprise", I will add that I think that he should stick to the battlefield until he has doubled the take his men are now getting, and then he would still be on the short end of the ledger. 

Have you ever studied how the farmers have and are licking the "Free Enterprise Profit System" through their co-operatives. That according to the 1936 (not 1946) U.S. Government reports, refunded over $40,000,000 in profits to their members? 

Do you know, that at a recent meeting of the Coal, Oil, Miners Union, that the free enterprise boys had the BIG JITTERS for fear that John L. Lewis was going to announce that the UMW was going into co-operative COAL? 

Do you know that the Farmer's Co-ops have licked the fertilizer trust, and have the big oil tycoons on the run with their Co-op ownership of over 100,000 BBLS daily capacity oil refineries, marketing facilities, and producing oil wells? 

Have you ever read Kipling's "Sons of Martha"? I commend it to your reading very soon.

I know what you face, I fully sympathize with your inhibitions in getting a clear, unbiased slant at the factual picture when so much is arrayed against you. Hence this loving, pointed, thoroughly brotherly unadorned screed. 

Via con Dios and Good Hunting 
Sincerely, 
John Sherman Bagg   

Here is the he response received from Donovan Richardson                           

Tombstone Series ~ Those Big Business Sons of Bitches Part II

Sorry for the delay in publication of Those Big Business Sons of Bitches Part II. Life just sometimes gets in the way of plans. Part I was published on March 17th. The "Tombstone Series" tag will take you right there. 

And now Part II of the "reduced history" of John Sherman Bagg by John Sherman Bagg.

"And now we take up the career of Lt. John Blake on General Washington's staff. He was mustered out as a Major General and took script and with Brewer they went to Holden, Maine near Bangor and took up homesteads. General Blake (married Marie Dupree) and his daughter married a Kidder, whose daughter (Sarah Blake Kidder) married a Hayes, whose daughter (Sarah Blake Kidder Hayes) married a (Uriah) Winchester and had three children: Sarah Augusta, Charlotte Maria, my mother Charlotte, and Robert Fulton Winchester. When Robert graduated from Bowdoin as a doctor, he went on a wind jammer as ship's doctor around the horn. Arriving in San Francisco he heard of the disastrous Scourge of Small Pox in San Jose and he jumped ship, peeled off his coat and tied into it.

One of the victims was Colonel (William Welles) Hollister of Santa Barbara. After the epidemic was whipped or died out, Colonel Hollister sent for him (Robert Winchester) and sponsored him. He opened a practice in Santa Barbara and a hospital and clinic on Las Armitas. Here we came upon Robert's sister Charlotte Maria and Stanley Chipman Bagg, taking horse back rides at the ranch and eventually marrying with a daughter, Katherine. A scourge of grasshoppers cleaned them out. 

My dad gathered four mules and a wagon and two tons of beans and drove to Hardyville on the Colorado River above Needles to the ferry, thence to Dos Cabesas below Fort Bowie, where they discovered and located the Detroit mine. It didn't pan out. Tombstone was beginning to boom so they moved there and dad mined. He finally formed the mercantile firm of Bagg and Barrow."

(John Sherman was supposed to arrive March 17, 1881, but mother Charlotte was not about to have him born in this wild west frontier town so she hopped a stage, then a train, finally a wagon to the Hollister Ranch so her brother, Dr. Robert Winchester, could deliver her son on March 18, 1881. They arrived back in Tombstone the day after the Gunfight at the OK Corral October 27, 1881).

"The Tombstone Epitaph was the only paper and was Republican. The Democrats bunch bought a newspaper plant and started the Daily Prospector to compete. The editor was soused beyond usefulness two thirds of the time, so the son of the founder of the Detroit Free Press (my father) was drafted to fill in. After the battle was over and the Republicans were ousted they had no more use for the Prospector so they gave it to Dad to pay for is, as, and when. Later he bought the whipped Epitaph and ran it as a weekly. 

Here is where I enter the picture as a printer's devil feeding the Country Campbell cylinder press, being turned by hand by that big handsome Mr. Jim who chased the bad man, Buckskin Frank Leslie, back to his job as bartender for Wyatt Earp and his brothers in the Crystal Palace Saloon, when he tried to jump Jim's mining claim. Here for three years I was mail boy, delivered the outside route on burro, set and distributed long primer type on Saturday's, ran the press and fed the big Campbell." 

The following was partially excerpted for my blog of December 24, 2012 but in context here it completes the prelude to my Grandfather's quest, he was a man on a mission. 

"When I was 11 my paternal grandmother paid us a visit from Detroit. She wasn't going to have her grandson become a bandit, cow rustler, dirty shirt miner or mule skinner, so she shipped me off and financed my five years in the finest Military Academy in the US, St. Matthews School for Boys. It was rugged and rigid but we had the best professors money could buy in English, Latin, Math, History and overall a West Point Major. Really a fulsome education from 11 to 16, and in uniform all that time with the same routine they had at West Point as far as military was considered.

Out of that to Los Angeles where Dad and Mother had moved after selling out in Tombstone. A year at Los Angeles High School (1897), a year a Pomona College (1898), and a year, eight hours a day in the private lab of Professor Laird J. Stabler where I was grounded in Chemistry, Assaying Cyanide Practice and Mineralogy (1899).

On July 7, 1900 my dad, friend John Vanderburg and I trekked across the desert on a prospecting trip with a two mule team, wagon and assay equipment (each chipped in $150). In September I found the Katherine Mine (named for his sister) in Mojave County. Katherine Landing and trailer camp on Lake Mojave above Davis Dam is named for her. We filed the claim September 16th. Sold out to Charles Sutro of San Francisco (Arizona-Pyramid Gold Mining Company in 1904) and went through Hearst Mining School at UC Berkeley. From there to Nevada where begins my contacts with mooching sons of bitches of big business."

Tombstone Series ~ Those Big Business Sons of Bitches ~ Part I

The monograph, quoted below, was written by my grandfather John Sherman Bagg. It is undated, but probably from the 1950's. It's a wee bit of his family history ala the Reduced Shakespeare Company's take on Shakespeare's plays "Brevity is the Soul of Wit". The corrections and additions, in parentheses, are attributed to some of my research and that of his sister Katherine Bagg Hastings. I wish I'd had the chance to meet him. 

"This then is the story of a lifetime on contacts with these so-called big businesses. It is a personal and first hand story, and involves the thefting, mooching and framing of the American Public out of Billions of dollars, and involves Kennecott Copper Co, The Standard Oil Co and Koppers, the Interior Department, Bureau of Mines and Land Management, the American Crayon Company, the Land Grant Railroads and others. 

I'm paying an ancestral debt by these exposures. An obligation to those who have fought and battled to build and preserve this union against these Sons of Bitches of Big Business. The fight with the greedy amoral bunch of necrophagen still goes on and only those who are born into the purple of dedicated Americanism are able to see and feel and smell it and to those we bow, and with these we join hands and carry on. My right to stand against these sons of bitches who are gnawing at the vitals of our country, stems from the Mayflower. 

I, John Sherman Bagg, am registered in the Studbook of the Mayflower as ninth descendant from John Tilley and his wife Bridget (actually his wife Joan according to William Bradford's Of Plymouth Plantation). Their daughter Elizabeth married John Howland of the Howland House in Plymouth, whose daughter (Hope Howland) married John Chipman, whose daughter (Sinai Fitch Chipman) married a Welles (D. Cyrus Wells), whose daughter, (Frances Wells) married my grandfather John Sherman Bagg. He was a law partner of John Lansing, father of Robert Lansing of Woodrow Wilson's cabinet with offices in Landsborough, Massachusetts.

Grandfather left that partnership and took over the Watertown New York Freeman, because he wanted to fight the Big Business Sons of Bitches. He was a close friend of President Polk, and at his request "went West" to Detroit where he was postmaster and U.S. Marshall, and finally, at Polk's request he founded the Democratic Free Press to fight slavery. He later changed this to the Detroit Free Press which it is today. 

His son, Stanley Chipman Bagg, moved from Ann Arbor College to Santa Barbara, CA where he was introduced to Colonel (William Welles) Hollister, a friend of my Grandfather. Colonel Hollister sent him onto the Las Armitas Rancho in the foothills of Goleta, where we leave him for the moment." 

Stanley Chipman Bagg

undated Photo

What Grandfather doesn't mention is that Sinai Fitch Chipman's roots trace back to William Bradford, governor of Plymouth Colony, and his wife Alice Carpenter Bradford, a fact chronicled in his sister Katherine's genealogy, researched and written in 1929, tracing the family lineage back to the Mayflower. 

Barbara and Elizabeth are my mother and aunt and his daughters

Part II of the story will take up the Winchester side of the family. Researching family history is an adventure in perseverance and full of surprises. It is amazing how much you can find on line: from the freshman class of 1873 at Ann Arbor College to an ancestor already cited in another's family tree. If you find a closed door, you'll probably discover an open window or a quiet path to another key in the puzzle. Trace your roots, create a legacy for generations to come. I have no children, but there are generations of other families who share common roots with me. 

Wordsmith Series ~ Muddy Boots and Lilac Blossoms ~ April 22, 2014

Elko teaches of ranching and the art of words

Weather, cattle, crops, and horses

Wonder dogs and flighty herds

Generations stand against the forces

It may seem a romantic notion

That I once lived a frontier life

But my ancestors sailed an ocean

To discovery and unknown strife

From Scotland to the Canadian Maritime

Then covered wagon, horseback and train

To seek the promises of the West

Simply looking for a home to claim

My history tells of gold mines

And survival in the Sierra snows

Some took a stand in Tombstone

No one giving in to the wind that blows

Wordsmiths, poets and publishers

They used language to define

Artists, miners, rabble rousers

The ancients spoke their mind

Our spread is but two acres

At the end of a dusty road

The ranch is a quarter acre plot

And an ancient apple grove

We staked a claim in eighty eight

And cherish our piece of heaven

A serendipitous twist of fate

And the luck of seven and eleven

Copyright © Shelley Macdonald 2014

Tombstone Series ~ Are You There Moriarty? Part II

Wanting to know what lead to the infamous showdown with Judge Barnes, I dug a little deeper and found the rest of the story. Stanley was a merchant in many guises and for a few years he ran auction and commission houses at 506 and 508 Allen Street. 

Allen Street ~ Left to Right

Tombstone Prospector, Auction Houses, 

Nobles Hotel, 

Schieffelin Hall (stand alone building)

Courtesy Tombstone Archives

Always active in community affairs he was elected a city councilman for the Fourth Ward in 1886. On November 19, 1886 he was appointed to the committees on finance, printing, gas, fire, water, and public buildings.

City Council Minutes 1886

Courtesy Tombstone Archives

"Bagg, in cahoots with Judge James Reilly, Martin Costello, Andy Ritter, and Joseph Pascholy were upset with the Tombstone newspaper, the Tombstone Epitaph. On a dare he decided to rival the Epitaph, thus the origin of the Tombstone Prospector, in 1887." (1)

~

"The Prospector was conceived to offset what some powerful Tombstonans suspected were sinister forces at work behind the editorial masthead of the Tombstone Epitaph. The Prospector was established March 7, 1887 as an independent daily paper. Feeling the need for a more combative approach, Bagg, who viewed the Epitaph as little more than a mouthpiece of a Cochise County ring centered around the courthouse, took over as editor and sole owner of the Prospector in 1889." (2)

~

"The Prospector's mission was to combat the powerful group which ruled the roost at the courthouse.  Combat duty was turned over to editor Jimmy Nash, who did what Bagg called a "poor job." So Bagg stepped in to give the county ring a real fight. A showdown ensued when both papers submitted bids for what Bagg later called "the velvet of the business at the time" ~ the printing contract for the Cochise County government.  

Both papers bid on the contract: it was awarded to The Epitaph even though Bagg's bid was much lower. Denied the velvet, Bagg sued the county, only to lose the case before District Judge W.H. Barnes. Unwilling to let the matter rest, Bagg's Prospector attacked the decision in print ~ the move that landed him back before Judge Barnes on a contempt charge. 

In 1891, Bagg solved the rivalry problem by purchasing The Epitaph. He returned it to weekly status and a Sunday review publication.  Having been the butt of Epitaph commentary, none of it too complimentary, bagging The Epitaph must have been sweet for the five-foot tall furniture store owner and son of the founder of the Detroit Tribune." (3)

He ran the Prospector until 1895. During that period of time he was involved in all things social, political and economic in Cochise County and the Territory. He became widely known, well liked, and was respected by friends and foes. In the early 1880's he was appointed to the Territorial Prison Commission and by 1893 he was chairman. 

(1) Cochise County Stalwarts Lynn R. Bailey, (2) Those Old Yellow Dog Days, Frontier Journalism in Arizona 1859-1912 William H. Lyon (3) Fred Schoemehl editor, National Edition of the Tombstone Epitaph

Tombstone Series ~ Are You There Moriarty? July 1, 1961

Though I'm a California girl, some of the roots of my family tree are firmly planted in Tombstone history starting in the 1880's. In January, 1984 my Mom sent me a newspaper clipping about my great grandfather, Stanley Chipman Bagg. The column, called The Lighter Side, was written by Kearney Egerton, a former cartoonist and writer for The Arizona Republic. His tales of Tombstone and the state's history made him an Arizona institution.

SC Bagg, editor of the Tombstone Prospector, let fly with both barrels at Judge W.H. Barnes of the federal district court for one of his decisions. Barnes slapped a $500 fine, for contempt, on him. "I have enough money to pay the fine" Bagg said, "but I refuse to pay the fine as a matter of principle!" Barnes had him thrown into the Cochise County Jail. Bagg was there several weeks, editing the Prospector from behind bars and receiving a steady stream of visitors. He became an embarrassment to the authorities and they told him he could go. He refused. The sheriff had to throw him out of the cold and stony and lock the door behind him. Years passed. Judge Barnes, then in retirement from the bench, was ordered to jail for contempt by Judge R.E. Sloan. As he approached the jail doors he fainted, and was carried to his cells by friends. He collapsed on the narrow bed, but arose when a jail attaché appeared with a telegram. "Aha" he exclaimed, "People far away have heard of this outrageous miscarriage of justice!" He opened the telegram "Are you there, Moriarty? S.C. Bagg"

Mom's letter said the story had been taken out of context from Walter Noble Burns' book Tombstone. In our copy my great grandmother, Charlotte Winchester Bagg, penciled a note in the chapter Red Lights and Altar Candles that S.C was only in jail for one day. Further research turned up several other versions of the story from including one in our archives from James M. Barney published in The Sheriff Magazine in 1952. 

In the Fall of 2012, we headed up to Butte County for a couple of days to visit my Aunt Betty. She sent me home with a treasure trove of historic papers and remembrances from my grandfather, John Sherman Bagg, Stanley's son. Here is his version of the story. 

S.C. Bagg may well be one of these gentlemen 

but we haven't been able to confirm to date.

July 01, 1961

We didn't have County Judges in the 1880's but District Judges and District Attorneys. These came from Tucson to hold Court in Tombstone at regular intervals.

Judge Barnes was a District Judge and he delivered a ruling that had the community boiling over. Dad took issue with it in his newspaper, the Tombstone Prospector, criticizing the ruling editorially and in a humorous vein. Judge Barnes hauled him into court and fined him $300 or 300 days in jail for contempt. Dad said he'd take the jail sentence, thereby putting pressure on Judge Barnes.

Scott White was the sheriff. Dad edited the paper from the front office of the jail, receiving proofs and sending out copy. Then when the jail closed and dad was supposed to be locked up for the night, he and Scott White would slip out the back way to a nice meal with Mrs. White in their home next door and Dad would bed down in the spare room. After three days, the town dignitaries still indignant and siding with dad, collected $300, got a team and surrey and took him out for home.

Judge R.E. Sloan (later to be Governor Sloan) succeeded Judge Barnes and when he made his first visit to Tombstone Dad met him at Benson and rode the "Burro Train" to Fairbanks, where they boarded the old six horse Modoc stage for Tombstone (8 miles). On this trip Dad sold himself to Judge Sloan as his Clerk of Court. This was the beginning of a very fine friendship and I remember the Judge at our dinner table on several occasions.

Years later former Judge Barnes was handling a case before Judge Sloan in Tucson. He didn't like Judge Sloan's attitude and got sassy. The judge admonished him, but he kept at it until finally Judge Barnes overstepped himself and Judge Sloan gave him "$300 or 300 days". He told the sheriff to take him into custody and motioned for District Attorney Francis J. Heney (more on him in another post) to come to the bench and whispered to him to "Go out and wire Bagg". Dad got the wire and immediately wired Judge Barnes in care of the Sheriff at County Jail "Are you there Moriarty?" Walter Noble Burns, in his Tombstone makes quite a story of this but misses some of the more pungent details.

Years later I was in the bar of the Biltmore Hotel in Los Angeles at a table where I was called to met some of the men in the party. I met a Barnes, "Any relation to Judge Barnes of Tucson?" Barnes "I am his son" "Are you by any chance related to Stanley C. Bagg of Tombstone?" Dad "I am his son"

We glared at one another, about to explode into a knock down and drag out, when the humor of it struck us and amid laughter and a couple of big scotch highballs, we buried the Barnes-Bagg feud. "Are you there Moriarty" however still persists in the record books. My most active part in this episode was visits to the jail to feast on the cakes and candy and other donations that were brought in by the "Loyal Legion"

Good Hunting, John Sherman Bagg, Mining Engineer

My research mentors, Nancy Sosa from the Tombstone Archives and Margo Metegrano from CowboyPoetry.com, taught me to not believe everything I read and keep digging for the truth. There is something to be said for the thrill of the chase.