The sensational murder trial of 24 Texans, denied bail and held for months in an open-air stockade, began at Jefferson on May 24, 1869.
George Washington Smith was a veteran of the Union Army, whose chief claim to fame was a flesh wound sustained at the Battle of Gettysburg. He migrated to Texas with his uncle after the war and opened a store in Jefferson up the road from Marshall, the secessionist stronghold.
When he failed as a merchant, Smith went into politics as a Radical Republican. As head of the local Loyal League, he controlled the freedman vote that ensured his election as a delegate to the constitutional convention of 1868-69. Even worse, in the eyes of most whites, was the fact that he lived among the former slaves and had a black mistress.
Following a Republican rally on the evening of Oct. 3, 1868, Smith and a black companion were fired upon by a group of four white men led by Col. Richard P. Crump. The carpetbagger returned fire, wounding two of the attackers and took refuge at the army post.
Later that night, Crump appeared with a delegation of civilian officials to insist that Smith be turned over to them to face a charge of assault. Maj. James Curtis, the post commander, acceded to the request over the protests of Smith, who told the officer in no uncertain terms that he was sending him to his death.
By the next morning, Major Curtis was having serious second thoughts. Could the Marion County authorities be trusted to protect the unpopular prisoner? Just to be on the safe side, he ordered a squad of soldiers to stand watch.
That night an armed and masked mob of 70 to 100 men, presumably organized by a Klan offshoot called the Knights of the Rising Sun, stormed the jail and overpowered both the civilian and military guards. Several black prisoners were dragged into the woods, where two were shot to death execution style.
When the horde attempted to remove him from his cell, G.W. Smith fought for his life and reportedly killed one of the vigilantes. Rather than engage the wild man in hand-to-hand combat, they shot him through the windows of the cell. Once he was dead, the firing squad squeezed into the cramped quarters and took turns pumping bullets into the body, 18 by the army surgeon’s count.
After a two-month investigation, the army started rounding up suspects on Dec. 5, 1868. William P. Saufley was at the top of the list, but the grand commander of the Knights of the Rising Sun had long since left for parts unknown.
Thirty-five were eventually arrested and held in the army stockade. Shackled, underfed and exposed to the elements, their incarceration soon became a symbol of the hated Reconstruction occupation.
Two attorneys went all the way to Washington to plead with the secretary of war to have the prisoners transferred to civilian custody. The lawyers employed every argument under the legal sun but to no avail. The army was bound and determined to sit in judgment of the accused.
The editor of the Jefferson Times and the Texas Republican in Marshall made more of an impression. Robert W. Loughery published a widely read circular that took the army to task for stubbornly refusing to defer to the civil courts or even grant bail.
Loughery’s broadside somehow wound up on the desk of President Andrew Johnson, who passed it onto the war department with a personal note asking for the details of what was now known as the “Stockade Case.” The answer ultimately came from Gen. Joseph J. Reynolds, commander of occupied Texas, in the form of a published rebuttal to Editor Loughery’s allegations.
According to the “Handbook of Texas,” the general “pointed out that the civilian authorities, who were now asking for the right to try the case, were the same ones who had assured the military that George W. Smith would be safe in their hands and receive a prompt and impartial trial in the civil courts.” Reynolds added that denial of bail was a prudent precaution in light of the fact that several suspects had vanished as well as consistent with state law in murder cases.
Eleven defendants were cut loose before the curtain was raised on the show trial in May 1869. That left 24 to be judged by a military tribunal of eight officers.
A grand total of 176 witnesses testified (47 for the prosecution and 129 for the defense) during the 71-day marathon. The accused, their families and most white Texans feared the worst, but this time luck if not justice was on their side.
Eighteen defendants were acquitted outright and freed on the spot. Three were convicted of murder and sentenced to life, but there is no record of their spending a single day in prison. The remaining three were found guilty of a lesser offense and quickly pardoned by President Grant.
Read the whole story of Bonnie and Clyde and other Thirties outlaws in “Texas Depression Era Desperadoes.” Order your copy today by mailing a check for $24.00 to Bartee Haile, P.O. Box 130011, Spring, TX 77393.
