Chapter 10 of Nightfeather: Ghosts, and the Peralta-Reavis land fraud

Energized by finding out that one of the ghosts actually lived, Sanderson decided to take an active role in investigating the ghosts. But ghosts aren’t the only hazard out there. And Sanderson doesn’t yet know what they can do. But you can find out, along with her, in the newest chapter of Nightfeather: Ghosts, chapter 10, “The perils of an amateur magician.”

Back in chapter 9, it seemed curious to Miss Angela Farr that the Secret Service should send an agent or two out to investigate the controversy over ownership of the Maverick Mine. It shouldn’t have. The Secret Service played a role in the most famous case of land fraud in the American West: the Peralta-Reavis Land Grant.

James Addison Reavis

James Addison Reavis

The story began, as far as the public knew, in 1882, when James Addison Reavis (1843 – 1914) filed a land claim in an Arizona court. According to Reavis, he had acquired ownership of a Spanish deed, a land grant given to one Don Miguel Nemecio Silva de Peralta de la Córdoba (1708 – 1824) by the King of Spain for unspecified military services rendered. Under the terms of of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, by which the United States had acquired the Southwest from Mexico in 1848, such grants were to be honored by American courts. The deed described an area of 18,600 square miles embracing much of central Arizona and a hunk of western New Mexico. It included productive silver mines, a transcontinental railroad, and the city of Phoenix. Reavis produced many documents to support his claim, enough that the silver mine and the railroad decided to pay what he demanded rather than contest his title in court. Reavis rapidly became a rich man.

Don Miguel Peralta, founder of the Barony of Arizona

Don Miguel Peralta, founder of the Barony of Arizona

But not everyone accepted the validity of the Peralta grant. The major newspapers in Phoenix and Florence came out against Reavis, and formed an organization to oppose the claim. When the territory’s attorney general won a lawsuit against Reavis in 1885, Reavis realized the jig was up, and fled to California.

The end of Reavis and the Peralta Grant? Hardly. Reavis was a resourceful individual. He had realized long before that his original story of how he obtained title to the deed was awkward and opened him up to lawsuits, so he had already begun building a new basis for his claim. How? He found the Peralta heiress! And then he married her, in 1882. (He was still married to his first wife, who divorced him in 1883 for desertion. Don’t let this bother you; it didn’t bother Reavis.) Once he left Arizona, he picked his wife up, went out to the East Coast to recruit new supporters, and then to Europe for much the same purpose. Or so he said.

The Peralta heiress, Reavis's second wife

The Peralta heiress, Reavis’s second wife

James Addison Peralta-Reavis, as he now styled himself, returned to his “Barony of Arizona” in 1887 to file his new claim. He was full of plans to develop his barony, still on the lookout for any money he could make from it, and living like the nobility he claimed for his wife.

This time, the opposition to the grant crystallized around the Surveyor General of Arizona Territory, Royal Johnson. Johnson had already done some investigation of the Peralta Grant the first time around. So when called upon to report on it, he issued a damning report in 1889, accusing Reavis of fabricating and altering an amazing number of documents. In short, according to Johnson, the Peralta Grant was a fraud.

Reavis sued, sued the Federal Government in fact, for title to the grant. What else could he do? But he had taken matters too far. The Federal Government called on experts, experts who knew about Spanish legal documents, experts in document analysis. And they sent out investigators to check on the facts, including a Secret Service agent named Levi A. Hughes who investigated the birth records of Reavis’s wife in California. The results were devastating. The experts confirmed all of Royal Johnson’s conclusions, and then some. Reavis, it turned out, was a master forger, who had learned all he could about the types of documents he had to forge, and had carefully altered or inserted forged records into legitimate archives. His trip to Europe? It wasn’t just for pleasure, as Reavis had been inserting more phony documents in the Spanish archives. Reavis was good at forgery, but as it turned out not quite good enough for the government’s experts. There was no Don Miguel Peralta. There was no grant. And Reavis’s wife was no baroness.

Reavis as a prisoner

Reavis as a prisoner

In 1895, the Court of Private Land Claims ruled against James Addison Peralta-Reavis. But the government didn’t stop there, no. They charged him with 42 counts of fraud, tried him, convicted him, and jailed him for two years.

Reavis got out of jail in 1898, three months early thanks to good behavior. But his luck had run out. His (second) wife had left him and taken their children, and she divorced him in 1902. Penniless, he died in a poor house in 1914.

But he achieved the immortality of fame, or infamy, if you like. His was the greatest case of land fraud and forgery in this nation’s history. It was so famous that in 1950, Hollywood made a movie about it, The Baron of Arizona. It starred a young Vincent Price, not yet 40, not yet a horror movie figure. And at the end, the movie Reavis left jail to find his wife waiting for him. I suppose whether you like the movie’s ending, or the historical one, depends on just what you think of James Addison Reavis.

The Baron of Arizona

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Chapter 9 of Nightfeather: Ghosts, and silver

The ghost told Sanderson that she needed more information. So she’s off to get more information from Decatur County’s unofficial historian, Miss Angela Farr. But will more information solve Sanderson’s problems, or raise new ones? Find out in chapter 9 of Nightfeather: Ghosts, “In which Miss Angela Farr reveals the history of the Maverick Mine.”

The chronology of this chapter is based in facts about silver mining and the use of silver as currency in this country. While it has has taken a back seat to gold in popular imagination, silver has a long history as a treasure metal. In various eras, some countries have based their currency on silver in preference to gold. Indeed, China’s demand for silver in the nineteenth century is sometimes held responsible for the chain of events that set off the Panic of 1837 here in the United States.

Early silver dollar reverse

Early silver dollar reverse

Early silver dollar obverse

Early silver dollar obverse

That’s because the United States was on a bimetallic standard in those days. The dollar was pegged to gold and silver. And the Mint produced coins that had just about their face value in one of those two precious metals. It had been that way since 1792.

One of the ideas behind bimetallism is that it gives your national currency flexibility: money can be coined in gold or silver or both, and the Mint usually tried to produce both. The problem is that for bimetallism to work, you have to set a fixed ratio for the value of the two metals, and in the real world, the ratio fluctuates. The United States had set the ratio to 15 to 1 way back in 1792. One ounce of gold was worth just about $20, but it took 15 times that, or 15 ounces of silver, to be worth $20. Got it? The problem was that the price of silver relative to gold on the open market kept dropping. So, for example, the silver in five silver dollars was worth less on the open market than the gold in a five dollar gold piece. If you wanted to make a quick profit, you went to the Mint with five silver dollars, exchanged it for one five dollar gold piece, melted that down, and sold it for more than five dollars in silver on the open market. The Mint couldn’t keep gold coins in circulation, they were melted down so fast.

Thanks to the financial problems caused by the Civil War (1861 – 1865) and the adoption of the gold standard by many European countries, the United States decided to adopt a gold standard in 1873. But the silver miners protested! If they couldn’t get the Mint to accept their silver at the old 15-to-1 ratio, the price of silver would drop even more. But support for the gold standard was strong on Wall Street. It took the silver interests five years to get the Mint to agree to a limited program of buying silver at the old price. It helped, but not much. The silver mining companies kept complaining.

And then at the end of the 1880s, another political movement entered the scene. It was made up of farmers in the South and Plains states. They were being pinched by a drought on the Plains and the tight money policy caused by the gold standard. They wanted an increased issue of paper money, but they were willing to make common cause with the silver interests, and managed to get the Sherman Act passed in 1890, greatly increasing the amount of silver the Mint was required to buy and coin.

This note could be redeemed for $100 in coins, gold or silver

This note could be redeemed for $100 in coins, gold or silver

Unfortunately for the silver interests and the farmers, there was a financial panic in 1893. One of the features of the Sherman Act was that people could exchange silver for gold and make a profit, just as they had in the old days of bimetallism. In the aftermath of the panic, the Treasury saw its gold reserves being rapidly depleted. So the Sherman Act was repealed.

The silver mining interests, which included the mine owners, the miners, and the states that collected taxes from them, all raised a howl. They got together with the farmers, who were now organized into the People’s Party, or Populists, to push for what they called “the unlimited coinage of gold and silver.” The silver interests saw that as a way to raise the value of silver. The farmers saw it as a way to get cheap money and pay off their debts.

The Democratic Convention after Bryan's "Cross of Gold" speech

The Democratic Convention after Bryan’s “Cross of Gold” speech

In 1896, they managed to capture control of the Democratic Party, and nominate William Jennings Bryan, who espoused their cause in his famous “Cross of Gold” convention speech. Hopes rode high, only to be dashed in November when the “gold bug” candidate of the Republicans, William McKinley, won the election. That was the last stand for the silver interests. The gold bugs in Congress went ahead and passed a law definitely decoupling the dollar from silver and making the gold standard the only monetary standard in 1900. And the silver interests never recovered. Neither did the farmers; the People’s Party disintegrated after 1896.

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Chapter 8 of Nightfeather: Ghosts

No matter what neat bits of magic she can pull, Sanderson lives in the same world the rest of us do, and has to deal with its pains and pressures. So while she thinks about what to do about ghosts, she also has to deal with her friends and co-workers in chapter 8 of Nightfeather: Ghosts, “In which Sanderson demonstrates weakness of character and strength of character.”

The daily installments of my Christmastime ghost story keep coming. If you’re not already reading it, you can start here. And I’ll see you all tomorrow!

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Chapter 7 of Nightfeather: Ghosts, and an old acquaintance

Three women, one of them dead, a lonely ravine . . . what could go wrong? No, no, this isn’t a slasher flick. Sanderson might be happier confronting a slasher. At least she’d understand what she was dealing with, instead of what her summoning the ghost of the dead woman brings instead. Read what happens in chapter 7 of Nightfeather:Ghosts, “People find dead bodies upsetting. Ghosts aren’t a treat, either.”

Chapter seven brings back an old character who will be familiar to some of my readers from a previous appearance on this blog. For those of you who haven’t been reading previously, or whose memories about this character are a bit vague, you can find out more about the individual here. But don’t peek until you’ve read the chapter!

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Chapter 6 of Nightfeather: Ghosts

Sanderson isn’t really the outdoors type. She’s never set foot in the ravine in the more than two years she’s lived in Farnham. That omission gets rectified in chapter 6 of Nightfeather: Ghosts, “In the ravine,” as this affair with ghosts turns deadly!

If you’re not already reading my serialized Christmastime ghost story, you can start here.

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Chapter 5 of Nightfeather: Ghosts, and the new background

There’s a lot of things one can lose. A cat, say. Or maybe a friend. Or, if one wants to get philosophical about things, one’s self. A cat, unless it’s Schrödinger’s, is either found or lost, there’s no in-between. Not so clear on friends or selves, sometimes. And that’s Sanderson’s problem in chapter 5 of Nightfeather: Ghosts, “Lost and found.” That, and trying not to get shot.

With the holiday season upon us and a ghost story on the blog, seemed like time for new background art. I happened to find precisely the sort of image to fit the situation. It’s a colored version of an engraving for Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Weekly, a popular periodical of the mid-to-late nineteenth century. This is from the January 4, 1879 issue. Its original title? See the caption!

A MOMENT OF INTENSE EXCITEMENT - THE GHOST STORY NEARING THE CLIMAX.

A MOMENT OF INTENSE EXCITEMENT – THE GHOST STORY NEARING THE CLIMAX.

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Chapter 4 of Nightfeather: Ghosts

In chapter 4, “Nightfeathers,” Sanderson explains a bit about her odd right hand, and sets off on what begins as a search for a missing cat. If you’re not reading Nightfeather: Ghosts, my serialized Christmastime ghost story, you can start here.

I’ve no background topic for today, so that’s it! See you tomorrow.

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Chapter 3 of Nightfeather: Ghosts, and Joseph Rodes Buchanan

If you’re going to take on an impossible task, then you need to develop impossible skills. Or so Sanderson seems to think in chapter 3 of Nightfeather: Ghosts, “In which Sanderson multiplies her regrets.” Because taking on the impossible isn’t the only mistake she makes. If you’re not reading my serialized Christmastime ghost story, you can start here.

Joseph Rodes Buchanan

Joseph Rodes Buchanan

Sanderson talks about psychometry, and Doc Helen chimes in with the name Joseph Rodes Buchanan. Nice rolling name, isn’t it? And that is how it is spelled. Buchanan (December 11, 1814 – December 26, 1899) was a real person, a real doctor, and he did indeed coin the term “psychometry” in 1842.

There’s more to Buchanan than psychometry. I first ran into him in researching the phrenomagnetists, the people who combined phrenology (a pseudoscience of the brain’s organs) with animal magnetism (which we would call hypnotism). Over the years, I’ve pieced together a few more details about him, but haven’t yet run across a detailed biography of the man.

Ann Rowan Buchanan, painted by John Peter Frankenstein

Ann Rowan Buchanan, painted by John Peter Frankenstein

Joseph Rodes Buchanan was born in 1814 in Frankfort, Kentucky. He was a child prodigy who grew up to be an eccentric thinker. He got his start in the printing trade from his father, but soon switched to medicine, where his thinking was often on the cutting edge, when, that is, it didn’t fall over the edge. He married Ann Rowan (1812/15? – 1876), the daughter of a prominent Kentucky politician, in 1841.

Around that time, he became interested in phrenology and animal magnetism. He gradually developed a theory of a neuraura, or an aura of emanations from the nervous system, which he argued was the basis for animal magnetism, psychometry, Spiritualism, and other talents which were yet to be described and named. Along the way he picked up an honorary M.D. from a Thomsonian (herbalist) medical school. However, he broke with the Thomsonians in 1846 when he helped found the Eclectic Medical Institute in Cincinnati, Ohio. He moved to the Eclectic Medical College of New York in 1877, and then to Boston in 1883. All the while, he gave lectures on spirituality, psychometry, and his theories of the neuraura, publishing his Manual of Psychometry: The Dawn of a New Civilization in Boston in 1889. His health began to fail, and he relocated further and further west after 1892, eventually dying in San Jose, California. He was buried in Kentucky, presumably beside his first wife. His second wife is buried here in Boston; I’ve seen her gravestone in Forest Hills Cemetery, and it even has a picture of her embedded in it.

The cover of this edition features a picture of the second Mrs. Buchanan

The cover of this edition features a picture of the second Mrs. Buchanan

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Chapter 2 of Nightfeather:Ghosts, and Tarot

Telling fortunes is easy, no? There are so many rich fortune tellers. Yeah, right, in your dreams. Sanderson plays Madame Fortuna to earn a few bucks. But it’s not always easy money. Find out how it can go wrong in chapter 2 of Nightfeater: Ghosts, entitled “The difficulties of running an honest scam.” And stick around, because the next installment of my Christmas ghost story goes up tomorrow.

The High Priestess seems like a good choice for this story

Does Sanderson see herself as the High Priestess?

Sanderson uses a Rider-Waite, or as she calls it, Waite-Smith Tarot deck. It’s the tarot deck most commonly seen in the U.S. and U.K.; I’ve posted a sample card on the left. Noted occultist A. E. Waite (1857 – 1942) commissioned the deck according to his own ideas, which varies somewhat from traditional tarot decks in continental Europe. They were actually drawn by Pamela Colman Smith (1878 – 1951), which explains the name Sanderson uses. “Rider?” That was the name of the publishing company: William Rider & Son of London.

Americans are used to seeing tarot cards used in fortune telling. We use a 52-card deck, sometimes with jokers, to play most of our card games. So it might be a surprise to know that tarot decks probably began as game-playing decks, and are still used that way in some European countries and their cultural offshoots. Sanderson herself doesn’t know this, and her tarot deck solitaire game is her own invention, not related to the traditional games using the deck.

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A Christmas ghost story

Nightfeather: Ghosts is the title of this year’s Christmas ghost story, which I begin telling today and will finish on or before December 24. What’s it about? Well, ghosts, of course. And a strange young woman named Sanderson, who has problems of her own. Followers of this blog should recognize one of the ghosts in the story, but the rest are newcomers. So please start reading at chapter 1, entitled, “In which our protagonist is introduced, while she is not on good terms with the world.”

James looks like the scholar he was

James looks like the scholar he was

Don’t be too impatient for the ghosts, though. I’m following some of the rules for ghost stories set down by M. R. James (1862 – 1936). Montague Rhodes James, to give him his full name, was a scholar of the Apocrypha, church history, and medieval manuscripts. And he wrote ghost stories. In fact, the only fiction James ever wrote for publication were ghost stories, and he is considered the first Twentieth Century master of the ghost story. By his own account, he would write these and read them around Christmastime to his friends at Cambridge and Eton, keeping up the old tradition of Christmas being a season for ghost stories. They were compiled into four slim volumes in his lifetime.

James’s interest in ghost stories was not limited to his own, no. We owe him a debt for rescuing the ghost stories and other supernatural stories of J. Sheridan Le Fanu (1814 – 1873) from obscurity. Le Fanu’s name not ring a bell? He wrote one of the first great vampire stories, “Carmilla” (which I’ve mentioned elsewhere), as well as the creepy novel Uncle Silas. James dug through years of old forgotten periodicals to find forgotten stories by Le Fanu, which he helped popularize by compiling a collection entitled Madam Crowl’s Ghost and Other Tales of Mystery (1923).

James had definite ideas about how ghost stories should be composed. In general, he was one for suggesting horrors, rather than depicting gore. And sex? No, for James sex ruined the mood. (He died a bachelor.) While I am not following James in every particular, there are two rules of his I am following for this story.

I think that, as a rule, the setting should be fairly familiar and the majority of the characters and their talk such as you might meet or hear any day. (Taken from the preface to More Ghost Stories of an Antiquary, published in 1911.)

Let us be introduced to the actors in a placid way; let us see them going about their ordinary business, undisturbed by forebodings, pleased with their surroundings; and into this calm environment let the ominous thing put out its head, unobtrusively at first, and then more insistently, until it holds the stage. (Taken from the introduction to Ghosts and Marvels, a 1924 collection of stories edited by V. H. Collins.)

As it will be seen, I do not follow James’s advice in every point. Neither did he. In fact, his advice isn’t consistent from one telling to another, and neither was his practice! Perhaps he kept in mind that greatest of rules: sameness produces boredom.

James had a friend illustrate the first volume of his ghost stories

James had a friend illustrate the first volume of his ghost stories

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