by Drew McGunn
“What about manufacturing? We still need a supplier for tin cans and we’re going to need a factory big enough to hold the vats in which we’ll boil down the milk, machines that will transport the tin cans to the vats where the milk will be poured into them and machines to remove the air and seal the cans.” Borden wore a forlorn expression as he continued, “Then we need access to those eastern markets. We’re too far away.”
Unwilling to let the production slip away from Texas, Will said, “The railroad connects to Anahuac. We can ship from there if we have to or ship it to Galveston. We have seven hundred ships a year come through Galveston. We can move the product anywhere in the world from there. We’re closer to New Orleans and the river shipping here than you’d be in New York. We can make this work.”
“What about production? Buck, there’s are not a lot of options here.”
“Give me two months, Gail,” Will said, hoping he wasn’t grasping at straws. “I’ve got an idea for producing the tin cans. If I can make that work, then I think we can probably get the tools necessary to build your factory in Texas.”
***
1 July 1848
“Every time I come to Austin, it seems as though it’s twice as large as it was before.” Will wasn’t sure he agreed with Andy Berry, but it was plain to see the capital of the Republic was a fast-growing town.
Sam Williams grumbled, “I still don’t see why in the hell the railroad couldn’t have had its maiden run begin in Houston. By God, why in the hell we rode a stagecoach to hear a bunch of politicians bloviate just so we turn around and take a train ride back to Houston is beyond me.”
Will patted his business partner on the back, “Because we own the largest share of stock, Sam. Be a shame to miss the opening.” He stopped in the middle of the street, “Think about it, gentlemen. When the Austin to Harrisburg line opens, it’s going to connect more than three hundred miles of railroad. You’d be able to get on in San Antonio and ten hours later, you’ll be in…”
Gail Borden interjected, “Pain. Ten hours of being bounced around in one of those railroad cars will have my bones so jumbled up, I’d be useless.”
Will finished, “Anahuac. Now, Gail, if you’re going to be a killjoy, you’re going to have to ride back to West Liberty in the mail car. Leave those of us who know how to celebrate to do so in the passenger car.”
Laughing, Williams patted Borden on the back, “He can’t help being a wet blanket. He was all set to go enjoy the high life back east, and damned if you spoil his plans.”
“We spoiled them, Sam. You called in a lot of favors to make this happen.”
Berry said, “Is that all I am? A favor? I feel cheap, like a two-dollar whore.”
When they had stopped laughing, Will said, “Andy, you’re probably the only man in Texas with the expertise to help manufacture the tin cans needed for Gail’s enterprise.”
Berry said, “Without the experience from manufacturing cartridges, I’m not sure I’d have been much help. It didn’t hurt that we’ve a stamping mill that can cut the tin and rolling presses to turn them into cans.”
“How did you ever talk your father into letting us use these resources from the gun works?” Will said.
Berry said, “Pa wouldn’t have anything to do with it. I was already adding more rolling presses, to increase our cartridge production. I bought those from Pa, and we’ll be setting up shop just for making tin cans in West Liberty.”
They came to a cross street where railroad tracks ran east to west, down the middle of the road. They were close enough to the Colorado River to see the bridge, connecting Austin to San Antonio by rail.
There was already a crowd gathering near the depot. People spilled from the street on which the railroad ran onto side streets. Berry said, “Buck, I thought you said there were maybe three thousand people in Austin. It looks like every one of them must have turned out for the show.”
Will came to the back of the crowd, and groused, “This is what passes for entertainment here.”
They circled around the crowd until they came to the train’s engine. A mixture of engineers, Rangers, and soldiers formed a cordon, separating the train from the crowd. Borden turned to the rest of them, “Doesn’t look like we’re getting through here.”
Williams said, “Follow me. I’ve got the tickets.” With that, he hurried toward one of the railroad men.
“Hey, nobody’s allowed through,” the engineer said.
Williams fished some tickets from his jacket and offered them to the man standing in their way.
He took them and studied them. “When the speechifying is over, y’all can get on board. I ain’t supposed to let folks board until then.”
Williams produced a small coin and offered it to the engineer. “Are you sure? You’ll see our seats are in the salon car.”
The engineer jerked his head in surprise and looked at the tickets again. He pocketed the small, gold coin and said to the other men manning the cordon, “These gentlemen are allowed through.”
Moments later, Will sat in the spacious salon car, next to an open window. There were a dozen seats. A few tables were strategically placed; every occupant could conveniently set their drink on one of the tables. Bottles of whiskey, gin, and rum lined a bar, situated in one of the corners of the car.
Will watched Sam pour himself a drink, “Did you know the bank president spent money on something like this?”
Sam took a sip and allowed a contented look to play across his face. “Not until I bought the tickets. The bank owns less than a quarter of the stock. The board meetings I attended, this was never discussed. But we’re here now, might as well enjoy it.”
Will turned his attention to the platform next to the train. Apart from the railroad company’s president, the other men on the platform were career politicians, all members of Ellis’ cabinet. One face missing was that of Erasmo Seguin. The director of the Commodities Bureau had died earlier in the year from a heart attack.
The man speaking was Michel Menard. He had been in Texas for nearly twenty years, but his strong Quebecois accent was unmistakable in a land full of southern drawls. As he waxed about the financial benefits of the railroad, Will tuned him out and focused on the man sitting in the middle of the platform, Richard Ellis. The man had betrayed everything Will had worked with David Crockett to attain. Nearly weekly there was an article in one of Texas’ many newspapers discussing the continual budget cuts to both the army and navy. Nearly as often, the same newspapers ran stories about meetings between Ellis’ envoys to Southern Democrats. Some newspapers pilloried the president, others lauded him.
When the president rose and approached the podium, he was stooped. Grey hair stuck out from beneath his wide-brimmed hat. But his voice remained strong, and Will had no problem hearing every word spoken.
“My fellow Texans,” he dropped the i, as was becoming common in some newspapers. “The railroad is the locomotion of Texas’ success. With the completion of this line between Austin and Houston, we now boast more than three hundred miles of track. Before long, you will be able to get on the train, here on Cypress Street and get off the same train at the Sabine River. Eventually, the railroad will connect our resources to markets back east.
“I see a day when cotton grown on the Brazos river will be loaded onto trains and those trains will follow the tracks all the way to New York where that cotton will be turned into textiles sold all over the world. I see a day when plantations grace the banks of the Colorado River hereabouts, made possible by this railroad. My friends, that’s progress. Opening up Texas to reap the rewards of her natural bounty.
“That is why I would like to take this opportunity to make public what many of you may already know. Now that the Supreme Court has cleared the way for me to serve Texas in my own right, I am announcing my campaign for president.
A smattering of applause greeted the announcement. A voice behind Will mimicked Ellis’ tenor, “Not being able to destroy the republic in one term
, I’m determined to do it in two.”
Will turned and saw Andy Berry. “Not a supporter of our president?”
“I support riding him out of town on a rail or maybe tarring and feathering him,” Berry retorted. “Why don’t you run against him? You’d have my vote.”
Will said, “Shush. Don’t let Becky hear you talking like that.” He turned his attention to Ellis’ speech.
“We are bound by blood and kin to our relations in the South. We are one people in two countries, and when you elect me, I’ll renew my efforts to seek union with our American siblings. As all are aware, President Clay will not run for a third term. He is old and worn out. Daniel Webster may seek the Whig nomination, but even if he does, the Democrats will nominate the next president of the United States. I pledge that I will work with that man to add our beloved lone star to the constellation on the American flag.”
Will felt his blood rushing to his face, and he turned away from the window. “God damn that fool!”
Sam handed him a glass sloshing with amber liquid. “Here, Buck, drink this. If that blowhard continues, we’re all going to need more to drink.”
Will took a sip and let the fiery liquid burn his throat on the way down. “Ellis is determined to destroy everything we’ve built. He’s already extended his slavocracy through Texas to the Pacific. Who does he think he is?”
Berry said, “Probably the president. Our contracts aren’t getting paid quite as regularly anymore, and another six years of his rudderless statesmanship will bankrupt my family’s business.”
Sam said, “Take another drink, Will. Andy’s right. Ellis has pushed some legislation that could cripple banking. Between Michel in the Treasury Department and our allies in Congress, Ellis’ banking ideas haven’t made any progress. But God help us all if he wins in September.”
Will squeezed his eyes shut, willing tears of anger away. “I get it. He can’t be allowed to win. We’ve got to find someone who can run against him and win.”
Borden sat in the chair next to Will and leaned in, “Buck, what Sam and Andy are trying to say is that you’re the man who needs to run against Richard Ellis.”
Will jerked away and stepped to the other side of the car. “I’m no politician. I was a soldier because that was what was needed of me. Since then, my family has first claim on my time. Sure, I love working in business with you, Sam. And Gail, helping to provide you and other men with vision has been rewarding. These are things I will do until I can’t. But I don’t have the right skills to be the president.”
Williams broke the silence. “Buck, without you, I’m not sure if we could have won our independence. Most people in Texas think the same thing. Add to that, you beat Santa Anna’s army in Mexico and captured his bastardness, ending the war and wrangled hundreds of thousands of miles from Mexico. The only people who won’t vote for you are Richard Ellis and the village idiot.”
Will shook his head. “Sam, you know that’s not true. If I run, I’m not going to hide my candle under a bushel. Slavery is what has Ellis so worked up over joining the US. Slavery is the millstone around our country’s neck. If I run, I would run on a platform of gradual emancipation.”
Sam took Will’s glass and drained it. “I think it’s a mistake and will only make getting you elected more difficult. But if that’s what it takes, then fine.”
Will said, “Good. Then it’s official, gentlemen. I am running for President.”
Chapter 25
4 July 1848
A single kerosene lamp burned in the hallway, casting enough light for Becky to see the sleeping form of her daughter. Liza tossed in her bed, rolling onto her side. She was getting so big. Already attending the small school in Trinity Park, learning her letters. She closed the door, How many more years before boys stop pulling her ponytails and start trying to steal kisses? The image of a young man standing before Will asking permission to take their daughter for a walk brought a sad smile to her face. No doubt Will would terrify the first boy to come calling on Liza. Thankfully, something like that was still more than a few years away.
She cracked open David’s room. Painted tin soldiers were scattered around the floor. The five-year-old loved his little soldiers and was at that stage where he’d play with them all day if he could get away with it. Now, though, the festivities of the evening in town had worn the little boy down. Despite living in another country, the former citizens of the United States had gathered in the town square for an impressive fourth of July celebration. Now, David lay in his bed. The sliver of light fell across him, and Becky gazed on her son, watching as his little chest rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep.
She closed the door and moved down the hall. Her life had never gone as well as now. While she always knew her pa had loved her, he had been gone far more often than he had been there. When she was growing up, before her father had won his election to Congress, he had been gone often, hunting, running his own enterprises, or serving in the Tennessee legislature. In contrast to her pa, Will was as stable as a mighty oak. She loved him for his commitment to her and the children. Adding to all of that, she loved living in Trinity Park. The town had grown from a few buildings centered around the gun works to a bustling town of hundreds. It had all the comforts she could desire. There were three churches, the same number of stores, a couple of saloons, and the college. Yes, she thought, Trinity Park was a place on the rise.
And that’s why she worried about the future. She found herself standing in the doorway of her husband’s library. Despite the late hour, he had several lamps, bathing the room in a warm light. In some ways, Will had never stopped being a soldier. As she stood there, quietly watching him, he said, “For a dyed-in-the-wool Baptist, John Berry knows how to throw one hell of a party. Did you enjoy it?”
Becky came over to him and hugged and kissed him. “I’d have enjoyed it more if I knew you weren’t running against President Ellis.”
Will swiveled around and faced her. “What’s bothering you, Mrs. Travis?”
He had a way of turning her name into a term of endearment, and it melted her heart every time she heard him say it. “I wish you’d reconsider running for president. You’ll be gone more than you’ll be here over the next couple of months. And if you win, you’ll be in Austin all the time. For six years. Think about that. Liza will be thirteen and David, eleven by the end of your presidential term. I don’t want you to be like my own pa, gone so much that you don’t recognize your own children.”
Will ran his finger along her chin, caressing her. “Is that your only reason, love?”
Becky frowned, “My reasons are like the sands on the seashore, Will. We don’t need more money. To hear Sam talk about it, the dividends you receive from the railroads you own parts of are more than enough to provide for me and our children. Add to that all the money you’re making with your partners on those products spun off from the college. We have a good life. Why risk all this by running against Richard Ellis?”
Will snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “At least they don’t make you get rid of your businesses here if you run for president.” The comment didn’t mean anything to her, but she stayed quiet, waiting.
It seemed like minutes passed as he struggled with his thoughts. “Every few years the Northern states and Southern states find something to fight about. If Ellis wins, Texas will be the next political battle between these factions. If that happens, I fear Texas will be forever linked with the Southern faction.”
Becky let him pull her into his lap, and as he ran a finger along her chin, he added, “Slavery’s a terrible institution, but as bad as it is, I don’t think the Southern states will give it up without a fight. Too much of their way of life is wrapped up in it.”
Becky took his finger and pushed it into his chest. “Don’t distract me, Will. Surely it won’t come to fighting between North and South.”
Will’s smile was sad. “May it not be so. But I wouldn’t count on it. That’s why it’s so
important that Texas stay out of the United States. If I can convince enough people to elect me, I can put a stop to this annexation talk from Ellis and his planter allies.”
Becky took Will’s arms and wrapped them around her waist. She felt safest when he held her so close. “Do you really think you can convince people to let slavery die out in Texas while it’s still so powerful just over the border in Louisiana?”
He nuzzled against her neck, and she felt his lips graze her ear. Damn, he could distract her! “I hope so. A lot more people have come to Texas from places not called Virginia or Alabama. Did you know last year more than four thousand Irish came to Texas? As a matter of fact, only a third of people who came to Texas were from the South. There are less than thirty thousand slaves in Texas now. Perhaps there are five thousand slave owners. Against that, there are more than sixty thousand men who own no slaves. If I can convince enough of them that it is to their advantage to kill off slavery, then Louisiana or the other slave states, won’t matter.”
Later that night, Becky snuggled up to Will, he was still awake. “Just promise me one thing, Will. Be careful.”
***
31 August 1848
Broadway Boulevard was a far cry from the central thoroughfare through Galveston Will recalled from his own time before the transference. In 1848, the best Will could manage was to call it pretentious. Sam Williams chose the intersection of Bath Avenue with Broadway for the day’s speech. The only thing making the sultry weather bearable was the breeze blowing from the gulf.
It was times like this Will hated the mid-nineteenth century the most. Social convention demanded men wear jackets regardless of the time of year. Granted, Will’s summer jacket was made of cotton rather than wool, but still, it was intolerable. One of these days, I’m going to invent an air conditioner.
From his place on a raised platform, he saw traffic was completely blocked by the gathered crowd. Beyond the crowd, men sat on top of wagons, waiting to hear him speak. Boys wound their way through the crowd, hawking brass buttons with a fair likeness of Will and his running mate, Juan Seguin.