The First Modoc Press Conference - History - http://maxpages.com/modocwar/Modoc_Press_Conference

I write this despatch in Captain Jack's cave, in the lava beds, having at last reached this spot, though not without considerable difficulty. In my last despatch I stated that John Fairchild, Bob Whittle and

THE TWO SQUAWS, MATILDA AND ARTINE,

were to leave on the morning of the 24th for Captain Jack's camp, with instructions to arrange a meeting between the Modocs and the Peace Commissioners. I also stated that I had applied for permission to Mr. Meacham to accompany these men into the lava beds, in order to give the public, through the HERALD, some idea of this band of warriors and the stronghold which they defended so bravely. As you already know,

MY REQUEST WAS PEREMPTORILY DENIED,

and Whittle had given the most decided orders not to permit any member of the press to accompany his expedition. I finally concluded that Mr. Meacham had no authority to govern my going and coming in this section of the country, and, therefore, determined to make an attempt to go on my own responsibility. Knowing that my movements at Fairchild ranch would be

RATHER CLOSELY SCRUTINIZED,

I left there on the afternoon of Sunday, the 23d, saying that I intended riding over to Van Bremer's ranch and stopping through the night with the officers of the Fourth artillery. This movement was not suspected, and before leaving I casually asked Fairchild

AT WHAT TIME THEY INTENDED TO START

next morning, and he replied:--

"Seven A.M." . . .

After a good night's sleep at Van Bremer's, I got up at reveille and made a start at 7:30, riding down the road towards Fairchild's in order to meet the party. It had then been snowing some two or three hours, and the ground was covered with a white, fleecy coating. When I arrived at the bridge over Willow Creek I found,

AS THERE WERE NO TRACKS,

that the party had not yet come up, so I rode on to meet them. They finally came in sight, Fairchild and Artine leading and Whittle and Matilda bringing up the rear. I immediately rode up to Fairchild and told him

I WANTED TO ACCOMPANY HIM.

He replied that personally he had no objections, but as the party was under the charge of Bob Whittle I must get his permission. I then rode back to Whittle, and my request was very firmly but politely refused. . . .

I thought at first of going in alone, but after mature consideration I concluded to turn back . . . and after trotting along for about half a mile my eye fell on the freshly imprinted horse tracks that were so clearly seen in the newly fallen snow.

THE SNOW TRAIL.

I immediately wheeled round, as in an instant I saw my guide to the lava beds. Those tracks would take me there. I rode slowly at first, and was always cautious going up hill to peep over the top before I exposed myself and horse to the plain that lay before me. After a ride of about two hours along the

SOUTHWESTERN SHORE OF KLAMATH LAKE

the tracks turned sharp to the right up a hill and led through a mass of loose rocks, which proved rather an obstacle to fast travelling. At the top of the hill, seeing nobody on the flat before me, I quickened my pace, as I thought the Modoc country could not be very far off. My judgement was not in error, as from the next eminence I saw the party about a mile and a half ahead, with

THE SQUAW ARTENA IN ADVANCE.

I then concluded that they were in Indian country, and so rode on pretty fast, and presently Fairchild and Whittle caught sight of me. They immediately

PULLED UP AND WAITED UNTIL I CAME UP.

Whittle appeared rather annoyed at first, but finally said--

"Well, well, now you have come, you had better keep up close, as we have been

SEEN BY THE MODOCS BEFORE NOW."

. . . We all rode on quietly, and in about three-quarters of an hour arrived at

THE BLUFFS OVERLOOKING THE LAVA BEDS,

without having seen an Indian. As Whittle expected to meet the Indians on that spot, he gathered some brush together and lit a fire in order to let them know we had arrived. In about twenty minutes' time we saw

A COUPLE OF HORSEMEN AND A MAN ON FOOT

coming across the plain below in the direction of the foot of the bluff. They finally came up the hill towards us, and I had the pleasure of an introduction to

HAWKER JIM, MODOC DAVE AND STEAMBOAT FRANK.

These three gentlemen were all armed to the teeth. Two of them had Springfield rifles, and the other, Frank, had a cavalry Spencer carbine, with equipments. Each of them had a revolver and large sheath knife.

AFTER A LITTLE TALK AND SMOKE

round the fire Frank said that Captain Jack wanted to see Mr. Fairchild in camp. We then walked down the bluff, leading our horses . . . We came presently on

ONE OF CAPTAIN JACK'S SCOUTING PARTIES,

and found half a dozen warriors warming themselves around a fire, while their horses were nibbling at the bunch grass in the vicinity. We got off and I was again introduced and went through some more hand shaking and more smoking. My smoking qualities were evidently much admired by the Modocs, and they also expressed themselves favorably of the quality of my tobacco. . . . About a half mile further on we came upon another camp of about fifty

MEN, WOMEN AND CHILDREN.

They were nearly all lying in a rocky spur, around a blazing fire, but as we approached they rose and came down to meet us. Their costume was of a very heterogeneous nature, showing that their clothing was collected at different epochs of time. Most of them, however, had soldiers' overcoats, and the squaws appeared very

PARTIAL TO RED PETTICOATS.

Here I was introduced to John Schonches, the brother of Schonches, the old chief of the tribe, and several other notabilities. After a delay of about five minutes we started again, accompanied by our new acquaintances . . . We were presently met by

BOGUS CHARLEY,

one of the Old Hat Creek Indians, who was evidently glad to see Fairchild, and a few minutes afterwards a most diabolical-looking Indian, called Charley Miller, came riding down towards us, motioning us back with his hand. A lively discussion then ensued in the Modoc tongue, a language with which I have not yet become acquainted; but the squaw, Matilda, acting as interpreter, told me that

CAPTAIN JACK HAD SENT ORDERS

for us to camp where we were and not advance any further. Bogus Charley, Frank and Dave appeared considerably exercised over this order, as Charley stated that Fairchild should come and sleep at his house. Dave added that Whittle and the HERALD correspondent should stop at his. I cannot say that at the moment I was very grateful to Mr. Dave for this exercise of hospitality, as I concluded that, should these gentlemen come to blows over

THIS LITTLE QUESTION OF ETIQUETTE,

the guest would probably fare the worst of all. At this juncture, however, Scar-faced Charley came up and immediately settled the matter by saying we all could come into camp. Fairchild and Artena here left us, taking the left hand trail to go to Captain Jack's house, and we went to the right, led by Mr. Dave, who was quite happy at having captured his guests. . . .

There were three or four Indian rancherias located in this wild-looking spot. As our guide entered one of these primitive habitations we dismounted, and, taking off our saddles, made our horses fast to some of the large rocks that had evidently been scattered around with a liberal hand. . . .

After sitting for about half an hour round the fire, which time was passed in distributing tobacco and making the acquaintance of several other painted savages, I was told by Matilda that there was a little difference of opinion as to whether the HERALD correspondent was to be admitted to the council.

TO THE CREDIT OF THE MODOC NATION,

I am happy to say that the friends of literature predominated, and a messenger presently arrived with orders to convey our party to the council cave, accompanied by Bob Whittle and his squaw. I followed our guide, and after clambering up the rough walls of one chasm we walked, or rather crawled, about one hundred yards over some broken rocks, when the guide suddenly

DISAPPEARED DOWN A DARK HOLE.

The HERALD correspondent followed, but, not being acquainted with the nature of the country, went down faster than necessary, and found himself in a large cave, lit up by the blaze of a fire, which was burning in the centre, and gave sufficient light to enable me to see some fifty or sixty Modocs seated round in circles four or five deep. Edging my way through this motley throng, I came to a vacant spot in the front circle, but before sitting down shook hands with Captain Jack and Scar-faced Charley, on whose left, with considerable courtesy, I was placed. I took my seat there like the rest. It was

A STRANGE SCENE,

and a fit subject for some figure artist, for certainly no troop of Italian bandits could have made a wilder or more picturesque picture. . . .

CAPTAIN JACK LOOKED VERY SICK,

and was sitting with a blanket around his limbs and supporting himself by resting his hands on the handle of one of their root diggers, which was stuck in the ground before him. Bogus Charley sat on his right, and

OFFICIATED AS INTERPRETER,

and Schonsches was to the right of Charley. Shack Nasty Jim sat to the left of Captain Jack, and then came Fairchild, Scar-faced Charley, the HERALD correspondent and Bob Whittle in the order named here. The rest of the Modocs were seated around in circles, and I noticed that many had washed off their paint and

COME TO THE COUNCIL WITHOUT THEIR ARMS.

Shortly after my introduction Mr. Fairchild produced his instructions from the Peace Commissioners, and read them by sentences in English, and Bogus Charley translated them. . . . After Fairchild had got through, and stated he had come to make arrangements for the meeting,

JOHN SCHONCHES,

brother of Schonches, the old chief, spoke. He talked for about two hours, and in this despatch I will only give the pith of his remarks. . . .

Mr. Schonschen made a diversion in my favor to give an account of

THE FIRST FIGHT ON LOST RIVER.

He spoke about the fight when the citizens attacked the Indians. He said:--

"White chief tell your people white men shoot first. I tell no lie. I give away all. My country keep little piece on Lost River, yet they shoot me. I don't know what for I thought. I gave them all my land, water, grass, everything. I don't charge nothing for my country; give away all, yet they shoot me . . ." As Captain Jack was very sick

THE COUNCIL WAS THEN ADJOURNED

until morning, and I returned to my house and got some supper. I then gave an audience and received John Sconsches, Scar-faced Charley, Bogus Charley and several others, and heard more about the way the Indians were treated in the reservation. They were

MOVED THREE TIMES FROM PLACE TO PLACE;

were only given half a blanket and the squaws none at all. It was the Winter season. They were given no food and had to dig in the hard, frosty ground for camus roots and kill their horses for meat. I only give the facts now, as my report in detail will be forwarded by mail. . . .

INTERVIEW WITH CAPTAIN JACK.

He said, "I see Mr. Meacham a long time ago at Fort Klamath. I don't know what may become now. Got plenty of soldiers. I afraid I don't know him. May be he don't feel good.

I GOT ONE HEART. MAY BE MEACHAM GOT TWO HEARTS.

My thoughts straight. I don't want Meacham to be scared. All come; don't be afraid. I tell my one heart; other chiefs sometimes lie. I don't know what I have done bad. I tell truth. I am a Yreka man. I conceal nothing. I know good many men treat me well want to fight. I don't so.

I AM NOT ASHAMED TO TALK TO WHITE PEOPLE.

I did not steal their horses. I got up in the morning. Soldiers distrust me. I done nothing. I told them. Yreka man give me letter. Letter make blood. He tell you a lie. I don't want no more before day. Look something to eat, not blood.

NO SHOOT NO MORE; WANT IT ALL GOOD.

Then Indians done shooting. No tell lie. I want things done quick. I told to quit; all quit. I got good sense; boys use my sense not. Party quits all quit.

MR. MEACHAM MAYBE USE TWO TONGUES.

I talk with one tongue. Mr. Meacham got too many friends. May be half white good, half white bad. All boys here one mind. Want whites all one mind. I tell him truth. I won't tell him gas; before fight, same as white man; after fight, Indian. I want no Indian law. Want same law for white and Indian.

WANT INDIAN SAME AS WHITE MAN.

When Meacham done talking, if he tell no lies, be same as white man. Meacham's side only half-minded. This side all one mind. I go Yreka. I go as white man; money in pockets; go to store; buy what I want. I make more friends with whites. Mr. Meacham must not think treachery from any boys. They all act all right. Wash all the blood from these boys make them same as women. I only got few men.

SORRY WHITE MAN AFRAID TO TRAVEL THIS WAY.

Like people travel every way."

Captain Jack then went over the story of the fight on Lost River and directly denied that the Indians shot first, and then said:--

"Tell Meacham I want him to come to no gassing. Tell him not be scared this man from paper afar off. He come to hear me talk. He hear no lie. He hear no more hard stories about me. Did not make first fight. I want every good. I am not ashamed of first fight. Glad to see white come to talk."

Mr. Fairchild then put a series of questions in order to find out

WHERE THEY WISHED TO MEET,

how many they were going to bring, and whether they objected to the Commissioners bringing soldiers, and Captain Jack answered, saying that "all his boys wanted to hear the talk.

WHITE MEN MIGHT COME, BUT NO SOLDIERS.

Soldiers make his boys feel bad. Twelve or fifteen white men come; want paper man to come. No want Lalake, Jim Parker or Modoc Sally. No like them. Keep soldiers where they are. Come to-morrow; come first day ready. Come soon; tired waiting. Want to talk." Schonches then spoke for a little, chiefly against Meacham and the Commission bringing soldiers. "Indians bury the hatchet.

NO WANT TO SEE SOLDIERS, MAKE HIM FEEL BAD.

Meacham not be scared. Boys waste all the blood. Mean good. Talk truth. Meacham mean peace; soldiers no good for peace. Afraid somebody your side wants to make blood again. Don't like it. Perhaps tell lies. I want to make all good; tell no lies.

SOLDIERS LIKE DOGS--THEY COME WANT BLOOD.

White men come all right."

Editorial -- Yreka Union (1 March 1873)

Enterprise

Our readers are all aware that the New York Herald despatched a Mr. Fox to the theatre of the Modoc War to act as its special correspondent, to forward to it early and reliable information with regard to whatever might transpire. As the journal to which Mr. Fox sends despatches and writes letters is published a long way off, and but few, if any, copies of it are circulated in this section of the country, he had not created much of a local sensation since his advent at the front. While the correspondents of the Bulletin, Record and Chronicle, particularly the two latter by their trenchant, meat-ax style of assaulting "men in buckram," conjured up by their own imaginations,--have raised the public mind of this State to the highest pitch of indignation at the awful disclosures they have from day to day made, Mr. Fox's existence has almost been forgotten. But it now seems that while the other correspondents were boiling over with indignation at the horrors perpetrated by the Applegates, at the outrages meditated by the Oregon "war ring," at the dastardly character of the Oregonians in general, and the petty thefts of Capt. Kelly and command in particular, and, last but not least, at the high-handed disposition of the Peace Commissioners in refusing to allow the reporters themselves to become the custodians of the secrets of the Commission--we say it now appears that while the other correspondents were boiling over with rage at all these horrors and outrages and larcenys and despotisms, and holding up their pure hands in holy horror and asking can such things be? Mr. Fox quietly saddled up his horse and rode over to Van Bremer's and thence over the mountain to the lava bed, and over the rocks and fissures of that unfinished piece of the world, up to Jack's stronghold, so wonderously made by nature herself. This feat of Fox has placed the Herald in the van, and distanced all competitors in the race for news! It is, no doubt, intended by the Herald office, which planned, and Fox, who executed this move that it shall rank only second to Stanley's search for Livingstone in Central Africa. As will be seen by our correspondence from headquarters, all the correspondents asked permission to accompany Fairchild and party to Jack's camp, and all were refused. It is also stated that thereupon Fox had saddled his horse and rode over to Van Bremer's; that he left Van Bremer's two hours before day Monday morning, and had not been heard from up to Tuesday noon. It was surmised he had watched for Fairchild's party to enter the lava bed, had joined and went with them to Jack's camp. This conjecture proved correct. He went to Jack's camp, hobnobbed with Jack and his counsellors, wormed out of them all their secrets, spent the night under their hospitable roof, returned the next day to Van Bremer's, wrote up his report, using some 5000 words, dispatched a courier to Yreka with it and sent it by telegraph to the Herald, at a cost of some $500 or $600. Thursday morning's Herald announced to its myriad readers, under flaming head lines, all the secrets of Capt. Jack's Cabinet and all the plans of his Generals, obtained by its own correspondent, in an interview with Capt. Jack and the chief military and civil dignitaries of his kingdom, at his entrenched military capital, in the heart of the lava bed. Such is enterprise.

Editorial -- La Constancia (Havana)

[A Cuban View]

The audacious corps of correspondents of the Herald, with the brilliant results obtained by the Stanleys, Hendersons and O'Kellys before them, have been scattered in all directions lately as ambassadors in behalf of the great potential periodical. In the course of the week the columns of the Herald have teemed with the reports of three plenipotentiaries. One of them has penetrated to the camp of the Modocs, another has been sent to Samana to investigate the condition of that Yankee acquisition, and, lastly, we are entertained with the telling, stupendous vicissitudes of our friend and protégé, O'Kelly. The Modoc emissary states that he entered the encampment of the Indians against the expressed command of the Peace Commissioners, and confesses that he deceived the military commander, who would not have allowed him to move a foot had he suspected his real intentions. The method employed in this case was no less lawful than that used by the ambassadors of this potential journal in certain other matters, and this one, like others of the correspondents, was impudent and disobedient to the law, valiant in all the evil arts by which he could accomplish his mission, which is as purely speculative and mercenary on his part as on the part of the potent organ that employs him. As may be supposed, the emissary to the Modocs now boasts it is entirely owing to his exertions that the pacific settlement of the difficulty with the bellicose Indians, under the valiant Captain Jack, has been effected. He would not be a worthy Herald correspondent if he should pretend anything else.

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