ST. PAUL AND ITS POLICE.
(Historical and Reminiscent.)
(Written for the "History of the Police and Fire Departments," by C. J. Palmer, a member of the St. Paul Police Force.)
By the shores of Mississippi and 'neath heaven's smiling blue,
In the State of Minnesota, we behold a charming view
Of St. Paul, the saintly city, fairest jewel of the State,
In its splendor, in its glory, in its progress up to date.
Looking down from Summit Ave. or from "Merriam's Hill" below,
Or from "Indian Mounds" when watching the wide river's placid flow,
From all points of view the picture is magnificent and grand,
A more beauteous panorama is not seen in any land.
Yet its history is brief — 'tis merely half a century old,
Barring prehistoric phantoms which its mounds and caves unfold,
Wrapped in mystery "silent speaking" of an unknown ancient race.
A true record of whose wanderings 'tis no easy task to trace.
Centuries ago, for ages, did the Mound Builders exist,
And inhabited this region, disappearing in the mist
Of the aboriginal period — dim in legendary lore.
Then the red man came and pitched his groups of "teepees" by the shore.
In the twilight of those very ancient eras — long ago,
When and how is unrecorded — (faint tradition fails to show,)
Came the "red explorer" — paddled his canoe and made survey,
For a "hunting ground" and found it where St. Paul is built today.
Its advantages attracted the attention at that time
Of those "children of the forest" who declared it most sublime.
Bear and buffalo and beaver, deer and bison, if you please,
Roamed or ruminated freely, 'neath the old primeval trees.
Fond of game, the red man hunted here from dawn till set of sun,
With a spear or bow and arrow — in the absence of a gun.
And the squaw when she came paddling in her odd birch bark canoe,
Found the landing place "just lovely," and anon her tribe of "Sioux"
Pitched their teepees 'neath the shady trees or on the rolling plain.
These abodes with pride and pleasure they were happy to retain
Ages passed — the white explorers came at last and looked around
And discovered that a better trading point could not be found.
The location seemed to satisfy the traders very well,
Furs and hides of all descriptions the red hunters had to sell,
Or to trade for "minne waken," — vile bad whiskey, by the way,
Which was introduced for profit but spread havoc night and day —
When the "Injun brave" had tested the intoxicating stuff,
It aroused his savage passions — made him dangerous and rough;
Firewater made him wild — a beast — demoniacal mad,
And destroyed all noble traits which he originally had.
The results were simply awful — dire ruin had its sway,
History shows a gloomy vision from this picture of dismay,
But the greedy grogg'ry-keepers still supplied the "fluid of hell,"
Which was causing countless evils, as the old traditions tell.
Time flew by and subsequently a land treaty took effect,
Uncle Sam had bought the title from the Indian chiefs direct.
Then at once the "pale-faced settlers" started in to cultivate,
The wild land and stake out homesteads — this was eighteen 'thirty-eight.
Parrant was the first white settler and the records testify,
That he was a lawless fellow — blear-eyed, ugly, mean and sly,
He staked out a claim convenient for a "Blind pig" where he aimed
To sell whiskey to the Indians and the soldiers, it is claimed.
And in spite of stringent orders from Fort Snelling, served on him
To give up his evil business — he was always "in the swim,"
He put up a rugged hovel near the river's eastern shore
By the mouth of Fountain Cave and smuggled whiskey as before.
It is quite humiliating such unpleasant facts to quote
Of the founder of our city and his wicked deeds to note,
And although we rather fancied him a worthier man than this,
Truth is merciless and stubborn and records it as it is —
He was called "Pig's Eye" — alas! Our pride revolts — the nick-name came
And clung to the infant town which blushed to bear the vulgar name
But it soon was changed however, as the Scriptures tell of Saul.
What was known as prosy Pig's Eye afterwards became St. Paul.
Step by step "the white intruders" took possession of it all,
Thus "Im-in-i-ja-Ska*" vanished and the city of St. Paul,
In the middle of the nineteenth century — without alarm,
Sprung up like "Alladdin's Palace" as if touched by magic charm.
Beautified by art and nature, — its appearance now is grand
While of yore the site was nothing but ravines and marshy land.
Where was once a tangled jungle, dense with bushes, reeds and rocks,
Stand in lower town at present our majestic business blocks.
What enchanting transformation, wonderful in its extreme,
Ah! It seems a fairy story — or a miracle — a dream.
What a change! Oh, what a difference! Say, ye old time pioneers —
Let your thoughts fly backwards only thirty, forty, fifty years.
Say what population figures could St. Paul that time display?
Nothing like two hundred thousand — the great record of to-day.
Watch the scenes, their rapid shifting, see how swift the town has grown
Such phantasmagorial wonders — real — the world has never known.
Eleven years had passed, the village, now in eighteen 'forty-nine,
Rose to dignity of town, and had a "county seat design."
"Minnesota Territory" was created, and St. Paul
Was selected for the capitol, so great and yet so small;
There were only thirty houses, forty families in the spring.
Henceforth, though with ceaseless din, its progress made, a forward swing.
In the rush of emigration, pouring in here more and more
Came with many honest people — also ruffians by the, score.
Crimes alarmingly grew rampant — there were frequent bitter fights,
Twixt the red and pale faced Nimrods — they were quite too common sights
Often was the City Marshall in a "pickle of a fix" —
The Police Force was created first in eighteen 'fifty-six;
But at first the "squad of coppers" was a small affair indeed.
A quartette of men, the council thought was all the town would need,
And they authorized His Honor on the 30th of May
To appoint that number only, which he did without delay.
Not too soon; the sin-infested town was something of a fright,
Thieves and gamblers, highway robbers operated day and night,
The police force, four in number, did its very best and tried,
To get rid of these marauders who rushed in on every side,
But the scoundrels with malignity defied the few police,
And committed depredations that disturbed the village peace,
But then haply, with assistance from a voluntary crew,
Some offenders were arrested, some behaved and others flew.
In the meantime the Police force had been reinforced, and then,
August twelfth, reorganized with chief, three captains and nine men
And Ex-Marshall "Billy" Miller was the first Chief of Police,
People pinned their faith in him and his platoon to guard the peace
But the force had to contend with disadvantages those days,
Lacking all equipments proper, handicapped in many ways,
Without telephones and wagons — it was difficult sometimes,
To bring culprits to the station and commit them for their crimes.
When, for instance, a patrolman found a half-dead drunkard lay
Stiff, exposed to cold and robbers, he must drag him all the way
From the depot, for example, eight blocks to the "calaboose,"
Up to Washington and Fifth street — no alternative to choose —
And perchance the snow was drifting deep, with thirty-five below.
In the whiskey-cursed village thirty, forty years ago,
Boiling hatred, jealous passions were insidiously cast,
'Mong the victims of the reckless liquor traffic in the past!
Vice and crimes were too conspicuous in the young days of St. Paul,
But the causes are transparent in considering it all.
To the lively frontier town a horde of thieves and cut-throats came
And it seems that jurisprudence at that time was lax and lame.
Criminals and bloody murd'rers even were allowed to "do" —
Or defeat the "Bar of Justice" aye! and cheat the gallows, too.
And it happened many times that prisoners broke out of jail,
A contrivance wherein "jailbirds" were "cooped up" to no avail.
And although it was repaired — it was not fit, or safe at all,
Expert criminals escaped — if but imprisoned in St. Paul.
But the force, though few in number, on the whole did very well,
With enormous "beats to cover" and disturbance to dispel,
And they tried their best to smother or prevent recurring crime,
While their wages fluctuated up and down from time to time.
Uniforms were not in fashion previous to the Civil War, —
"The first sixteen years, it seems, the coppers only wore a star."
When emergencies demanded stringent measures to ordain,
A new "vigilance committee" was in evidence again.
Once the force was cut a trifle back in eighteen 'sixty-two,
"For the lack of funds;" but still six men remained to lead the crew
Of a volunteer police force which was kept to set a pace,
And perform the solemn duties of protectors of the place;
But they, tired of the hardships, soon retired; so of course,
Then the Council, the department, was compelled to reinforce.
The old time passed into history with its shadows and its lights,
When the "copper-colored savages" mingled freely 'mong the whites,
When the "squaws" with their "pa-pooses" oft were begging on the street,
And the "bucks" invaded kitchens searching something for to eat.
They became a pesky nuisance — worse than rats on pantry shelves —
Timid ladies trembled when the stealthy "bucks" thus helped themselves.
Grunting, making gestures, pilfering anything that they could see,
Yet they used to leave when sharply told (Be gone!) Eh! "Puck-a-Chee!"
Ten years passed — the "cops" were struggling hard but bravely held their own,
And, of course, the population had increased — the town had grown,
Yet the cops were few in number, just about a score in all
To guard peace in the then "very dead tough city" of St. Paul.
Sundry outfits for the force were first procured in 'seventy-two,
Helmets, whistles, yellow buttons, clubs, belts, tassels — all anew —
And a uniform at once it was required to have made;
Then an aspect metropolitan the "blue-coats" soon displayed.
For the next decade the force had all, and more than it could do,
Yet it was increased but slightly until eighteen 'eighty-two.
Tricky sharpers had assembled in St. Paul to play their games,
And a gang, notorious characters with strange and fictitious names.
June the seventeenth patrolman Dan O'Connell vainly tried
To arrest some desperadoes but was shot by them and died.
Six years later on a rainy night in eighteen 'eighty-eight,
August third, patrolman Hanson met a likewise cruel fate.
In performance of their duties they were fearless, brave and bold,
And attempted to arrest the desperadoes — we are told —
Yet the mysteries remain enwrapt in gloom and no one knows
How it happened, but the "scamps" were likely "cornered" — we suppose.
Instantly the burglars' weapons flashed and in the struggles fell
Both the officers — brave victims of a duty's plighted spell;
We all praise their daring courage, — we deplore their tragic fate —
Among heroes' glorious memories — their's are honored by the state.
The Police Court was established 'seventy-five and a patrol
Wagon came at last in service 'eighty-three in June. The whole
Population of the city thought it was a great device,
And declared it indispensable and very neat and nice.
Since that time the coppers when they found a drunk upon their beats
Were not called upon to push or drag the pris'ner through the streets
Further than where a police box was located, and a call
Brought the wagon in a hurry from the old time city hall.
A bright period commenced of golden years and palmy days,
While the Goddess Fortune shook her "horn of plenty" in her grace
Smiling, scattering prosperity to right, to left, to all,
And brought forth a rosy era of flush "boom-time" in St. Paul.
Like a beehive, now the "Saints" exhibited great enterprise,
And on chilly winter days they built a palace out of ice.
Novel sight! When fireworks around its glittering steeples curled
This grand spectacle attracted great attention in the world.
When the G. A. R. Encampment, 'ninety-six, met in St. Paul.
The police force was admired for its work and praised by all
For a week two hundred thousand guests comprised the multitude,
Which from grandstands, streets and housetops, the processions safely viewed.
And while here the throngs were handled and protected nights and days,
And His Honor sent a message to the Chief of thanks and praise.
Other details or occasions we must pass in this review,
But St. Paul Police Department well deserves its credit due.
At the present time the Force comprise a hundred eighty-one
Active members, gallant men! Who realize what they have done
For the welfare of St. Paul, or what influence they have wrought,
For its good? but lo! their efforts often have been set at naught.
Yet they stand for law and order, aye, they aim to guard the peace,
Are with dauntless courage ready to act promptly and to seize,
Or arrest and bring to justice at all hazards night or day,
Evildoers who will not the state or city laws obey.
As a rule St. Paul policemen use good judgment, common sense,
Strict attending to their duties with due zeal and diligence.
They are watchful, true and loyal; they are stalwart, brave and strong.
They are human, yet they are enduring hardships "right along;" —
Hail the "Brotherhood of Coppers;" — Hail the "Knights of Club and Star! —"
Hail the guardians of the peace and let their fame ring out afar! —
You may roam the country over — you may scrutinize them all
But you'll find no nobler fellows than the coppers of St. Paul.
In a future full of promise brighter far than is your past,
What reflections on time's mirror will your present struggles cast?
Will the coming generations read and ponder as they run,
And complete the noble structure which their ancestors begun?
Yours the weary time of seeding, theirs the golden harvest time,
And the fruitage of your courage and your confidence sublime
In that future when historians shall the roll of honor call
First and foremost among cities they'll announce the name ST. PAUL.
*The towering cliffs, or bluffs, of white sandstone which overhung the river formed a prominent landmark for the Indians as they paddled up or down in their canoes, and this beautiful spot which afterwards became the site of St. Paul, was known to the Indians from time immemorial as "Im-in-i-ja-Ska" (White Rock) and for years it was so called in their tongue; however some red-faces learned to grunt: "Sip-all" — which meant to them the place where "Injuns could get Minne-wakan" (whiskey).
