GREAT EXPECTATIONS Chapter Two

 

I reject the idea that people are born evil. But then consider the level of cruelty required to spend ten years patiently inflating the dreams of a lonely and abandoned young woman (above), before smashing her psyche into a billion pieces on the anvil of your own ambition, almost as an afterthought in a plot to steal the modern equivalent of $116 million.  Now, that is doing evil.

Evil's name was James Addison Reavis (above) and he was the second son of a Missouri shop keeper He  was half Welsh, one quarter Scots and one quarter Mexican. James grew up fluent in both Spanish and English. And, as any young creature entering the world, his initial survival depended on the skills nature had provided him and his ambition. In James' case, nature had made Missouri a border state, torn between Union loyalties and Southern sympathies. 

When civil war broke out in 1861 the 18 year old James volunteered for military service in a Confederate regiment, where he  discovered he had a facility for forging his commanding officer's signature. He supplemented his army pay by selling passes to his fellow soldiers, until the officers grew suspicious. 

Before things got to too hot, James (above) wrote himself a pass and changed sides, enlisting in the Union Army. Because the Federal side was paying bounties for recruits. After the war James returned home with confidence in his own survival skills, and, oddly, having added the Portuguese language to his skill set.

James Reavis now fell in with a group of organized criminals - real estate agents. They put his skill with a pen to work again, creating the missing link in many a false legal ownership trail. And it was as a real estate agent, aptly  named George Willing, who introduced James to his life's work.  That was not Willing's intent, of course.  

The scam Willing was running had been born in the treaty which ended the Mexican/American war of 1846 to 1848.  The United States annexed all or parts of the future states of New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, Utah and California. 

To avoid rebellion in these new territories the U.S. government pledge to respect all land titles and contracts signed under Mexican law, including the original Spanish land grants. And that is where George Willing came into our story, in 1871, with a fake bill of sale from a one time Mexican citizen. 

Willing claimed that in October of 1864, while working on a mining claim in Black Canyon, Arizona Territory (above) - about 50 miles north of Phoenix -  he had bought the mineral rights for a poorly defined section of land from a Miguel Peralta (Spanish for "high rock" or mountain) in exchange for $20,000 in gold, some mining equipment and some mules.

Willing had forged a written the bill of sale (above) in pencil, supposedly on the only piece of paper in the mining camp. But he said he could not file a record of the sale until three years later, in Prescott, Arizona, the territorial capital. Of course by then, the claim had proven profitable to somebody else. 

This type of challenge to an existing claim was called “a floater” and was not unusual in mining districts. Because of this it was was popular with scam artists, because the real mine owners would often settle the suit out of court by paying for a "quick claim",  just to avoid the expense of proving the claim false at lengthy trial. And it turned out there were several established mines already working the land which Willing was now claiming title to. 

But so familiar were the local miners with this particular scam that George Willing's filing quickly resulted in threats of tar and feathers. So George had retreated from Prescott, first to Sacramento, California, where he had used the fake bill of sale to secure a loan, which paid his way home to St. Louis, Missouri. His intention, once there, was to continue to pursue his false claim, but this time in a safer venue - the Federal courts.

In Missouri over the next two years, James Reavis and George Willing spent many hours discussing how best to secure the financial backing they required to pay for their legal blackmail of the real claim owners. They teamed up with a lawyer named William Gitt, who was an expert, of a sorts, in old Spanish land claims, including one out of Guadalajara, Mexico dating back to 1847. Mr. Gitt had been forced to abandon that particular case after a Mexican bench warrant had been issued for his arrest for fraud.  And as they invested more time and effort in constructing their fraud, they enlarged his claim.  

Gitt lectured James and George about the intricacies of Mexican and Spanish land law. And in January of 1874, on Gitt's advice, James and George formed a legal partnership. Then, they separated. George Willing took the paperwork they had “discovered” (meaning created) by rail and horseback back to Prescott, Arizona, to re-file his claim on the mines in Black Canyon. James Reavis took a train to New York City, where he boarded a ship, bound for San Francisco.

Step one in the plan was for James to meet up with a Sacramento, California (above), merchant named Florin Massol.  Massol was the dupe who had loaned Willing money years earlier on his fake land claim. The collateral Willing had offered to guarantee the loan were the fraudulent mining rights on the mythical Miguel Peralta land grant. Paying back the loan would provide a seemingly valid paper trail for the fake claim. 

Step two was for James to travel on to Prescott, Arizona (above) later that summer with the mineral rights now free and clear, and appearing unconnected to George's earlier filling for the same imaginary Peralta grant.  The idea was that two seemingly unconnected individuals filing separate claims on the Peralta grant would increase the pressure on the mine owners to settle the suits even quicker. But upon arriving in San Francisco, James received a startling letter from an Arizona Sheriff.

The letter was addressed to the only name found in George Willing's address book -  James Reeves, care of general delivery, San Francisco. According to the sheriff, George Willing had safely arrived in Prescott in March of 1874, and had immediately filed his claim at the Yavapai County Court house. Willing had then checked into a hotel (above), eaten a hearty dinner and retired to his room  In the morning, he was found dead. George Willing was willing no more. 

The sheriff offered no cause of death. Maybe it had been a heart attack, or maybe someone remembered George Willing from his earlier adventures in questionable mining claims. The sheriff was only interested in preforming his civic duty, and finding someone to pay the undertaker. And with that shocking news, the partnership was dissolved and whatever plans had been assembled to profit from the mythical Peralta land grant, died with George.

But George's death also left James Reeves was in a terrible fix. He was not interested in paying for poor George's funeral. He wasn't even happy about being connected in public with George's claim. But, according to the sheriff's letter, the papers James had forged to support George's claim on the mining lands, were still on file at the Yavapai County Court house. James Reavis could not pursue his own claim without those papers. But, if George's death had not been accident, Prescott, Arizona might not be the safest place right now. James Reavis needed time to think. And he needed money. So, on 5 May 1874, he got married.

The lucky lady was Ada Pope. After a short honeymoon, James went looking for work and Ada never saw him again. Six years later the unfortunate lady finally filed for divorce. In the meantime, James had found a job as a school teacher in the tiny Southern California farming town of Downey (above). 

After two quiet years laying low in Downey,  James returned to San Francisco (above), where he became a newspaper correspondent for "The Examiner" and "The Call", specializing in covering the Public Land Commission.  

From this position James made himself familiar to the most powerful men in the city, including two  who had just built the Southern Pacific line, the western half of the transcontinental railroad, Collis Huntington and Charles Crocker (above) - two of the biggest crooks in American history.. By now a plan had formed in James' mind, a way to re-assemble the pieces of his search for wealth and security.

It would be a great gamble. But then America had been built on gambles, usually with other people's money. And that was just what James Addison Reavis was going to  do - use other people's money to steal a fortune for himself. 

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GREAT EXPECTATIONS - Chapter One

 

I want to share with you a Cinderella adventure of royalty in disguise.  It begins in 1742 when 32 year old Don Miguel Nemecio Silva de Peralta de la Corboda set foot in the city of Guadalajara, New Spain. He was on a secret mission, and carried papers identifying him as the “vistador del rey”, a visitor from the King, marking him as a wealthy and accomplished man, with rich and powerful friends.

He wore the gold collar of a Knight of the Golden Fleece (above), a title which placed him above the law, as he could only be arrested on a warrant signed by six other Knights, and there were only fifty of those in all of Spain. He was also a member of the order of Montesa, warrior Knights who served under Cistercian beneficence. Eventually he would become the “Baron of the Dry Area”; or, in Spanish, the “arida zona.”  But that would carry only those privileges he could make of them.

Two years later, pleased with Don Miguel's performance of his mission, Philip V of Spain promoted him and gave him an enormous grant of about 1,328,000 acres of land, leaving it up to Augustin de Ahumada, the Viceroy of New Spain, to pick the exact spot. It took Don Miguel ten years of searching for the best location. Finally on 3 January,  1758, the Viceroy designated the grant as lying north of the Mission of San Xavier del Bac, on the Santa Cruz River, eastward from the confluence of the Salt and Gila Rivers. 

In May of that year Don Miguel, accompanied by a priest and two military officers traveled to the desert site and consecrated the grant on a barren hill he named the “Inicial”, or first, monument. Here Miguel scratched his mark upon a large rock, and laid claim to his new world empire.

Don Miguel Peralta immediately took physical possession of his land, establishing a base camp around the Pueblo ruins of Casa Grande. But the local Apache Indians did not recognize the claims of a far off Spanish monarch,  and their constant raiding forced Don Miguel to return south of the Gila River, to the Mexican state of Sonora. 

Here he bought land and settled down. And his retreat was not without its benefits. In 1770 he married the lovely Sofia Ave Maria Sanchez Bonilla de Amaya y Garcia de Orosco. He settled his new bride in Guadalajara. In 1776 Charles III reaffirmed Don Miguel's grant to the north, even though the vassal still dare not take physical possession of the land. And in 1781 Don Miguel and Sofia had a son, Jesus Miguel Silva de Peralta.

Jesus Peralta showed little interest in his arid inheritance, and built his life in and around Guadalajara, accustomed to wealth and privilege.  He did not settle down until he he was forty, marrying a local girl, Dona Juana Laura Ibarra, in 1822. In February of 1824 his father, Don Miguel Peralta, died at the fantastic age of 114 years, and Jesus Miguel inherited the family estates in and around Guadalajara, as well as a ranch in Sonora. 

There was also the still unoccupied desert grant to the north, but Don Jesus Miguel made no effort to claim that land or even show an interest in it. And after mortgaging and then losing his Guadalajara properties,  Jesus and Dona retreated to their ranch in Sonora. There they  produced their only child, a girl named Sophia.

Sophia Peralta grew to be a pretty girl, but the eligible bachelors were few and far between. And the bride's family was by now, not considered the best, even in the limited social world of the empty desert lands south of the Gila River. Dona Sophia Peralta did not find a husband until she was 28. And only after the vows were exchanged in 1860 did it became apparent the union had been a gamble for both sides of the aisle. 

Don Jesus Peralta thought he had matched his daughter to a wealthy man. But Sophia's new husband, Jose Ramon Carmen Maso, was in reality a professional gambler, and periodically down on his luck. And only after the wedding did Jose Maso discover his new wife's family estate was heavily mortgaged. This was why, in 1862, Jose Ramon planned a trip to Spain,  in hopes of collecting some old gambling debts. He took with him his entire family, and his in-laws, even though Dona Sophia was pregnant.

Their timing was very bad .The Great Flood of 1862 (which began in December of  1861) was devastating the western coast of North America from Oregon to Mexico. Directly in the family's path,  the mountain road into San Diego was washed away in dozens of places, and the little town of Aqua Mansa, at the headwaters of the San Gabriel River, was destroyed. Only the alarm raised by the bell at the Mission of San Salvador de Jurupa prevented the loss of life there. 

And it was at the Mission, in February, that the flooding forced Jose Ramon and his party to pause,  and where Dona Sophia went into premature labor and gave birth to twins, a boy and girl. The newborns were weak, as was Dona Sophia, so while the women stayed on in the churh, Jose Ramon and Don Miguel Peralta continued over the mountains to San Diego, where they caught ship, first for San Francisco, and then for Spain.

The newborn boy soon died, followed by his mother Sophia. And the infant girl was not expected to live. And as there was little food in the region, both grandmothers then abandoned the sickly orphan and returned to Sonora. But the child did not die. She lived, cared for by a wet nurse hired by Mr. John A. Treadway, who was a friend of the gambler Jose Ramon. But Treadway died shortly thereafter on a business trip, and both Jose Ramon and Don Miguel died while in Spain. And the grandmothers also passed away on  their way back to Sonora. 

The abandoned child was raised by locals out of their loyalty to the departed Mr. Treadway. But everything about her family was forgotten, except her first name. Sophia was raised by local villagers until she was eight, when she was entrusted to a local businessman, John Snowball, who employed her first as servant and then as a cook in his roadhouse along the route between San Diego and Arizona.

Then, in 1877 a chance encounter on a train changed the orphan's girl's hard life. A well dressed gentleman with large whiskered sideburns approached the 17 year old and inquired about her background. The girl nervously admitted she was an orphan, and did not know her family name or history. The stranger suggested she might be the missing daughter of a wealthy family. She had never before heard the name he suggested: Peralta. The girl was uncertain whether to believe his story or not, but she wanted to believe it was possible.

But it was not. The entire story I have just shared with you, save for the storm of 1862, from the streets of Guadalajara, to the battered remains of a mission in the California desert, every word and document supporting it was based upon was the invention of the fevered imagination of one of the most determined and resourceful con men in American history. His name was James Addison Reavis (above). And at one time he came very close to owning most of the state of Arizona.  And what follows is the true tale of how he almost did that. 

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THE FIRST DAY Chapter Nineteen

 

I think the Army of the Potomac got very lucky that muggy Wednesday morning, 1 July, 1863. With the death of the brilliant Lieutenant General John Reynolds, command of all troops in and around Gettysburg dropped onto the pompous puritanical epaulets of the next ranking officer on the battlefield, Major General Oliver Otis Howard (above) . 

Known as “The Christian General”, at 32 years of age Howard was an arrogant, xenophobic religious bigot whose incompetence had smashed his own XIth Corps just 2 months earlier, at Chancellorsville (above)  The Episcopalian Howard successfully scapegoated his own Lutheran emigrant soldiers for his own part in that disaster, and the joke in the rest of the army became -   the “Dutchmen” who had once boasted “I fight mit Siegle” - their first commander – now chanted “I run mit Howard.” He called them cowards. And this was the man now in charge of the entire battle.

But this was lucky for the the 9,000 German emigrants of the XI Corps,  quick- marching up the Emmitsburg Road. Their immediate command now passed to one of the most amazing men tossed up by the American Civil War – the be-speckled and thoughtful firebrand, Major General Carl Shurz (above). During the revolutionary year of 1848, the teenage Schurz was chased out of his home in the German Kingdom of Hanover. He snuck back into Prussian controlled Germany to break his teacher out of Berlin's Spandau prison. Together they then escaped to Austria. Then Carl moved on to France, then to Britain, and in 1852 to America. He brought to his new country a hatred of slavery, a devotion to civic responsibility and the idea of “Kintergarden” for all children. At about 11:30 that morning of 1 July, 1863, on Cemetery Hill, 70 feet above Gettysburg, Shurz got his orders from the pompous and pugnacious General Howard.

The Federal I Corps, fighting under 41 year old Major General John Newton, seemed to be containing Heth's 5,000 man rebel division along McPherson's Ridge – for now (above). But the rebels were reported moving toward the open right flank, along the Mummesburg road. Howard ordered Shurz to occupy the 600 foot high Oak Hill with the 3,000 men of Shurz's own 3rd. division, now commanded by fellow German born revolutionary 38 year old Brigadier General Alexander Schimmelfennig. He also ordered the 2,400 men of the 1^st Division under 28 year old New York born baby-faced Brigadier General Francis Channing Barlow to “...connect with the Third Division” at Oak Hill, and guard the Carlisle Road due north of Gettysburg.

Major General Schurz immediately rode to scout his new position on Oak Hill. He found it loomed over the Mummesburg Road and was perfect for artillery (above). 

Unfortunately, while he was gone, Howard ordered the Corps artillery reserve and the remaining troops - the 2,700 men of the 2^nd Division under General Adolph von Steoinwehr - to remain atop Cemetery Hill (above), in reserve. From there they would secure the vital hill, but could offer no support to the rest of the XI Corps. 

Worse, Shimmelfennig's men did not reach the outskirts of Gettysburg until half passed noon. Their forced march had left them weary, but Shurz immediately led them through town and west on the Mummesburg Road, over Oak Ridge – the northern extension of Seminary Ridge - toward Oak Hill.  

But just after 1:00 p.m. Shurz was surprised to find Confederate artillery and infantry already atop Oak Hill (above) and digging in.

The 7,900 men under rebel Major General Robert Emmet Rodes (above) were the advance of Lieutenant General Ewell's III Corps.  And by 12:30 p.m., with the 5,000 men of Heth's division south of the Chambersburg Pike, the rebels had 12,000 men on the field,  giving them a slight advantage against 10, 000 federal troops on or soon to be on the front line - not counting the XI Corps reserve. And scouts from Colonel Devin's cavalry brigade reported the 5,000 men of Early's division coming down the Carlisle Road. They were expected to reach the battlefield by mid-afternoon. The Army of Northern Virginia was about to repeat by accident their brilliant flank attack at Chancellorsville. Sensing this, Shurz pulled Schimmelfennig's division back to Oak Ridge, and had them dig in. This forced Newton's I Corps, to pull back and dig in a new main line along Seminary Ridge. And Shurz instructed Brigadier General Barlow to extend Shimmelfennig's right flank across the Carlisle road with his 2,400 man division. Everything had to happen in a rush.

Not long after 1:00 p.m. Henry Heth finally threw his strength at McPherson's ridge south of the Chambersburg Pike – The 2,500 man brigade of Brigadier General James Pettigrew (above), along with the remnants of Archer and Davis' brigades. Pettigrew's attack found McPherson's Ridge weakly defended, and continued on up Seminary Ridge, where they ran into the new Federal line. Rushing to join the assault, Major General Rode's hastily threw Brigadier General Alfried Iverson's 1,300 man North Carolina brigade against Oak Ridge. All rebel attacks were thrown back with heavy causalities, in particular Iverson's assault. 

Captain Lewis Hicks, related the destruction of his 20th North Carolina regiment. "We carried three hundred in(to) action."  A Federal regiment opened fire on the their flank and 15 minutes later most of the regiment surrendered, with just 62 men returning to rebel lines.  Wrote Hicks, "In the absence of white flags the wounded men hoisted their boots and hats on their bayonets to show their desperation. The firing continued about ten minutes, our firing ceased and the Federals moved on us to effect our capture". .

Lieutenant General A.P. Hill and Lieutenant General Richard Ewell immediately began preparing to launch a second assault, including now Early's division, which was just arriving on the Carlisle Road. And while they were putting together the elements of the assault – just after 2:00 p.m. - their boss, General Robert Edward Lee (above),  commander of the Army of Northern Virginia,  finally arrived via the Chambersburg road. He was at first infuriated – or as infuriated as he allowed himself to be in public. He reminded General Heth of his order to avoid engagement. And then he dropped the issue, in part – probably – because there was a battle in progress and things were changing quickly, and in part because he knew he would have probably done the same thing, Heth had done. It was one of the reasons Heth was one of his favorites.

On 30 June, Ewell's Corps, and in particular Jubal Early's division, were vulnerable to being cut off. Pushing into Gettysburg on 1 July would put Heth's division 10 miles closer – half a day's march - to welcoming those men safely back into the fold. And finding Federal infantry in Gettysburg, between Early's 5,000 men and the rest of the army, was all the more reason to push the Federals out.  Lee understood that. And in any case the battle Heth had brought on, was going Lee's way.  Lee approved a general assault as soon as the troops were ready.

Francis Barlow (above) and his division arrived via the Emmitsburg Road about an hour before Lee's arrival, and by 2:00 p.m.  He had put his men into the battle line defending Shimmellfiinig's right flank, and blocking the Carlisle Road. But the baby faced Barlow was no less a religious bigot than Howard and vented in letters his contempt for the “beery and impenetrable Germans”. He carried a cavalry sword (above), which he used to beat the backs of stragglers on the march and in battle. Said a subordinate later, "He looked like a highly independent minded newsboy...his features wore a familiar sarcastic smile…”

The action along McPherson (above) and Oak ridges left the Harvard graduate free to make his own decision. Which was usually dangerous for his soldiers.

With cavalry warning of Early's advance, Barlow decided to push the 1,100 men under Brigadier General Leopold von Gilsa, and the 1,337 men of  Brigadier.General Adelbert Ames,  700 yards forward of the line he had been assigned (above)  - into the vertex of a nut cracker, atop a low broad mound known as Blocher's Knoll.  And in doing so he disconnected them from the Federal line on Oak Ridge.

At about 3:00 p.m. Pettigrew's brigade launched an assault against Seminary Ridge while Rodes sent his division at Oak Ridge. The Federal line held again. But then, about 4:00 p.m. Brigadier General John Gordon added his 1,800 man brigade, alongside Brigadier General Henry Hay's and Colonel Isaac Avery's brigades  of  1,000 men each, and Colonel Eugene Waggaman's 1,000 Louisiana Tigers - all attacking Barlow's Mound (above), from 2 sides at once.  Boy-faced Barlow would later insist his Germans broke and ran. But the man doing the attacking, General Gordon,  later wrote, “The enemy made a most obstinate resistance until the colors of the two lines were separated by a space of less than 50 paces, when his line was broken and driven back,..." 

General Barlow himself was badly wounded, and  2 of his despised Germans tried to carry their commander from the field. The sarcastic newsboy wrote later, with no sense of irony, "One of them was soon shot and fell. . I then got a spent ball in my back which has made quite a bruise. Soon I got too faint to go any further and lay down. I lay in the midst of the fire some five minutes...A ball went through my hat as I lay on the ground and another just grazed the forefinger of my right hand. "  Barlow would be captured and would eventually be exchanged, to fight again..   

Then, about 4:00 p.m. the Federal battle line began to peel away from Seminary Ridge. The battered First Corps made a fighting withdrawal, across the valley, to Cemetery Ridge. As they did the XI Corp did the same, having suffered 50% causalities. Still they became known as "The Flying Dutchmen". There was panic in the streets of Gettysburg, but its size has been overrated. A brigade of the von Steoinwehr's division went forward to cover the retreat at a place in Gettysburg called the brickyard. After blunting the rebels in downtown Gettysburg, and Steoinwher's regiments pulled back to defend the northern tip of Cemetery Hill, and next to it Culp's Hill. But the situation on the Federal side had changed,

At about 3:00 p.m., just about the same time the rebels were launching their assault on Seminary Ridge, 39 year old Major General Winfield Scott Hancock arrived on Cemetery Hill, empowered to take command of the battlefield.   

Immediately upon receiving word from Howard - about noon -  that he had assumed command at Gettysburg, General Gordon Meade, commander of the Army of the Potomac,  had dispatched Hancock to Gettysburg with orders to replace the bigot from Maine. And now, over Howard's objections, Hancock did just that, inspiring the exhausted men in blue.

Perhaps the most important order that Hancock issued that evening, at about 5:00 p.m., was to send exhausted the remnants of the I corps to the left, to occupy the 180 foot high Culp's hill.

Culp's Hill is the tallest position above Gettysburg, overlooking Cemetery Hill and Ridge by 100 feet. A "hollow" or saddle connects it to the 70 foot high Cemetery Hill.   And as dusk settled over the weary survivors at Gettysburg, the key to the coming battle shifted to these two rocky mounts.

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