James P. Beckwourth . . . 2
Chief Tabby . . . 20
Shoshone village, 1870 . . . 34
Jesse N. Smith . . . 52
Lottie Campbell . . . 66
Polynesian colonizers of Skull Valley . . . 88
Benjamin Brown . . . 102
Fred Wada . . . 122
Katina and Manuel Kadakis wedding . . . 138
Mr. and Mrs. Betolina . . . 168
Mexican-American Children . . . 184
Manti, Utah . . . 196
Bingham Canyon, 1890s . . . 216
Irene Stoof . . . 224

				Historian Dale Morgan commented that eastern Utah's Shoshone chief Tabby was "a most remarkable looking Indian, physically perfect." In 1892 the chief claimed to be 113 years old. He died four years later. Utah State Historical Society, all rights reserved
	Lottie Campbell, a black woman in Utah at about the turn of the century. Many blacks came to Utah as slaves, about fifty in the Mississippi Company, for instance. Later both Fort Douglas and Fort Duchesne were manned exclusively by black troops under white officers. Local residents were initially apprehensive but came to admire their new neighbors. Courtesy of Mary L. P. Bankhead and the Utah State Historical Society, all rights reserved
		Polynesian colonizers of Skull Valley celebrating Pioneer Day in 1914. Their town of Iosepa was largely a success until 1915 when the LDS church announced it would build a temple in Hawaii. Many of the state's islanders relocated to Maui at that time to help with the endeavor. Courtesy of Larry Morris and the Utah State Historical Society, all rights reserved
		Carbon County was home to Utah's largest concentration of Italian immigrants. They were recruited by mining agents, railroad representatives, and padrones to work in the coal mines and related industry. In this ca. 1914 photograph, Mr. and Mrs. Bertolina stand in front of their house in Helper near the county's railroad junction. Utah State Historical Society, all rights reserved
		Mexican-American children experience acculturation more quickly in Utah than some other western states. Outside of the main immigration currents, their sense of heritage has faded. That is changing due to the new Chicano emphasis on ethnic cultural roots. Pictured here are children from the Torres family on the west side of Salt Lake City, perhaps in the 1950s. Courtesy Silvia Mayo and the Utah State Historical Society, all rights reserved

Although the record is clear, few people know that on the east bench, overlooking Salt Lake City and touching the boundaries of the University of Utah, more than 600 black people lived, worked, and attended school for almost four years in one of the most attractive locations in the western United States. These were the soldiers of the United States Twenty-fourth Infantry, their wives, children, and others. There are twenty-one graves in the little Fort Douglas cemetery with weather-worn markers that become less legible each year, that serve as quiet reminders that black people exceeded the geographical boundaries historians have generally assigned them. Two additional graves mark the resting place of black servicemen from the famous Ninth Cavalry stationed at Fort Duchesne, Utah, prior to the turn of the twentieth century and at Fort Douglas following the departure of the Twenty-fourth.

Although black army regiments were stationed throughout the west for almost a century after the Civil War, knowledge that they were a regular and integral part of the military is not widespread.1 During the Civil War black units served throughout the southwest; and after 1866 members of the Twenty-fourth and Twenty-fifth infantries and Ninth and Tenth cavalries served as far north as Vancouver, British Columbia, as far west as the Presidio in San Francisco, and as far south as Mexico. Black men in uniform and their wives and children were prominent at Fort Bayard, New Mexico; Fort Grant, Arizona; Fort Logan, Colorado; Fort Missoula, Montana; Fort Davis, Texas; and other posts. In some cases they augmented comparatively small black civilian populations in these areas.

The dearth of sources pertaining to the army's black rank-and-file and the considerable difficulties involved in uncovering information may account for the limited attention given black enlisted men. Additionally, officers and cavalry units have been considered more attractive subjects for writers and historians. This does not mean that black units and their men have gone entirely unobserved. Their critics appear to have been more vocal, if not more numerous, than their eulogizers. As late as 1900, black soldiers continued to be characterized as "illiterate," "lazy," "a drinker," "a gambler," "set apart by nature," "a natural horseman," and inconsequential in the development of the west.2 Subsequent discussions by historians have challenged these characterizations, but a definitive study is yet to be undertaken.

In attempting to delineate more precisely the presence of the Twenty-fourth Infantry in Utah, my examination of local newspapers and army records for that period raised several questions that warranted further investigation: Why was the Twenty-fourth stationed in Utah? What impact did it have upon Salt Lake City? What was it like to be a black soldier during this period? Where did the men come from? How did their presence affect the development of Salt Lake City's black community and its historical presence in Utah? Were there any long-term effects of the regiment's presence?

During early September 1896, word circulated among military posts that the adjutant general was considering a plan to relocate several regiments. Although details were not fully known, some soldiers welcomed new duty assignments and others wanted to remain where they were. Civilians, too, worried about the pending change. In Salt Lake City the Sixteenth Infantry, a white unit, grudgingly prepared to leave Fort Douglas for Boise Barracks and Fort Sherman in Idaho and Fort Spokane in Washington. According to a local newspaper report, the unit's football and baseball teams were greatly disappointed because they had hoped to win championships in Utah.3 While younger soldiers were probably concerned about leaving girlfriends, older soldiers faced the prospect of moving families and household effects. A group of Salt Lake City residents, after attending a dance at Fort Douglas, "went home happy and expressed sorrow at its being the last dance they would attend at the post for several years."4

The Fifteenth Infantry, as luck would have it, was transferred from Illinois to forts in the southwest that had been garrisoned by the Twenty-fourth. These posts in New Mexico and Arizona had reputations for being "hell holes." Members of the Fifteenth were probably convinced that they were being punished. On the other hand, members of the Twenty-fourth seem to have been happy with the regiment scramble and felt that, after thirty years, the unit was getting the kind of duty station it deserved. At that point in time, all four of the army's so-called black units, each with white officers, were stationed in the west.5

The arrival of the Twenty-fourth more than doubled Utah's black population. The Ninth Cavalry, stationed at Fort Duchesne in Uintah County, had 584 black soldiers, and the Twenty-fourth's strength was rather constant at 512. With Fort Douglas's proximity to the city, wives and children were able to accompany the Twenty-fourth to Utah. The state's total black population, civilian and military, hovered around 1,800 in the fall of 1896 and reached 2,300 in 1898 after the Twenty-fourth returned from the Spanish-American War.

The arrival of the infantry was preceded by both rumor and fact. People expressed interest and some concern at the Salt Lake Tribune's and Salt Lake Herald's reports of the War Department's decision to move the Twenty-fourth to Fort Douglas.6 On September 20, 1896, almost one month before the advance companies arrived, the Tribune, in an editorial entitled "An Unfortunate Change," voiced the kind of reluctance that black soldiers would ultimately have to confront during their tour of duty in Utah. The paper reflected on the close ties between the city and members of the Sixteenth Infantry and implied that such relationships would be impossible with the Twenty-fourth. It noted that because the city's residential areas lay between the business district and Fort Douglas, "colored" soldiers would have to travel on streetcars to and from the post, and this would bring them into direct contact with whites, especially white women. The editorial argued that when drunk, a black soldier "will be sure to want to assert himself" on a car with white ladies. It would be best, it concluded, to lay the facts before the Secretary of War in case "he might still be induced to make the change and send the colored men to some other station where they would be just as comfortable, where they would not be a source of apprehension and discomfort to the people of a large city like this."7

Following the editorial lead, Utah senator Frank J. Cannon met with Secretary of War Daniel S. Lamont and asked that some regiment other than the Twenty-fourth be sent to Fort Douglas. According to the Deseret News, at least a part of Senator Cannon's appeal had to do with the undesirability of locating "a colored regiment" in the immediate neighborhood of the University of Utah. The secretary was sympathetic to Cannon's appeal, but "found it impossible to change the order."8 The Herald reflected what was on the minds of many when it reported: "Some people say that there is a good deal of politics mixed up in the move."9 Julius F. Taylor, the black editor of Broad Ax, noted that Secretary Lamont was a Democrat and for that reason would not withdraw the transfer order.10 Contrary to such speculation, it appears that politics played no significant part in the Secretary of War's decision.

In addition to criticizing Senator Cannon for trying to prevent the move, Taylor was critical of the Tribune for being the only newspaper in Salt Lake City to raise "any sort of objection." Taylor charged the Tribune with being "the accepted organ of the Republican party."11 By way of contrast, the Herald editorialized on October 10: "Glory and Honor to the Sixteenth Infantry! Welcome to the Twenty-fourth Infantry," indicating that there was no unified view. Some were opposed, others not. Depending on the source, the issue was considered racial, political (owing, possibly, to the recently fought battles over statehood and polygamy), or a matter of reward for meritorious service.

William G. Muller, a white officer in the Twenty-fourth who wrote an unpublished history, considered the Tribune's editorial to be the most prominent objection to the unit's tour of duty. Although he could not recall the dates the regiment was stationed at Fort Douglas, he did not recollect that the city's feelings against the "negro soldiers" were "bitter" and prejudiced. Later he observed that when the regiment returned from Cuba, "it had the hearts of the people."12 Muller remarked that a year after the Twenty-fourth's arrival, the Tribune printed what amounted to an apology.

Morale may have been an important factor in relocating the Twenty-fourth. During the thirty years it was stationed in the southwestern territories, repeated requests had been made for more desirable duty. In January 1895 it became more specific, asking for a "station near a large city." George W. Murray, apparently a civilian supporter of the Twenty-fourth, in a memorandum to the Secretary of War, offered key points for consideration: (1) the difference in treatment between black and white units; (2) "every unit in the infantry regiment in the Army has had or now have, a station near a large city except the Twenty-fourth"; and (3) "depression and demoralization results from service too long in the wilderness."13 Murray's memorandum was received in the Adjutant General's office on February 7 and was submitted to Lt. Gen. J. M. Scholfield in command of the army. He suggested that "this regiment be given a northern station if it is found practicable to do so."14

No immediate action followed this recommendation, but on January 22, 1896, Col. J. Ford Kent, commanding officer of the Twenty-fourth, added to what must have been an increasingly unified voice. Writing from the regiment's headquarters at Fort Bayard, Kent asked for a "good station" and announced that "a natural feeling prevails that it is on account of their color that the regiment is debarred from the better locations."15 He noted that General Scholfield, by then "the late Commanding General," had endorsed a move on February 15, 1895, and when he inspected Kent's post in May he had told him that "it had been decided, in the event of a possibility in changes in the station, that the 24th Infantry should be sent to Fort Douglas."16 Several more months passed before the final decision was made.

In September 1896 the Herald reported: "Colored Men Will Come."17 The response was primarily one of surprise, for the change had not been expected until spring. The city came alive with talk of the pending arrival of the "Colored Gentlemen" from forts Bayard and Huachuca.18 The uncharitable Tribune editorial of September 20 was followed three days later by an article, "Capt. Hoffman's View," which reflected favorably upon the Twenty-fourth Infantry. William Hoffman, apparently a resident of Salt Lake City, said he was acquainted with the regiment and that its members were "well-behaved." "The men will keep to their own race," he said, and "we generally will know only the officers and their families." After his own regiment, the Eleventh, the "Twenty-fourth is my very first choice," he wrote. Although he did not discuss how he became acquainted with the Twenty-fourth, his views moderated the more impetuous concerns about the prospect of uniformed black soldiers on the city's streets. Captain Hoffman concluded "that there is no chance whatever that the War Department order will be changed." If his belief in the army's intractability and Senator Cannon's "Vain Attempt to Have Them Sent Elsewhere"19 did not convince people, the debarkation at the train station "of about 100 colored women and a number of dark sports who follow the regiment from post to post" did.20 Fifty enlisted men were married and brought their families with them. 21 It is difficult to estimate how many children and other civilians arrived in connection with the unit. Most families lived on or near the post.

The soldiers themselves had widely varying backgrounds. Solomon ("Black Sol") Black claimed "to have been the youngest soldier in the late war [Civil War]" and said "he was still wearing knee pants when he went in as a drummer boy."22 The son of Louis Black, he was born in Rome, Georgia, on August 10, 1854, and enlisted in the negro Forty-fourth Infantry at the age of twelve. One month later the youngster, less than five feet three inches tall, was detailed as a musician and served as a fifer and drummer boy until he was discharged on April 30, 1866. Four years later he enlisted in the Twenty-fourth Infantry and completed six enlistments before retiring on May 1, 1897. Like many of his fellow soldiers, Black served in both the infantry and the cavalry (Tenth). After leaving Salt Lake he returned to Texas, married Emily Drake who was twenty-five years his junior, and died on December 11, 1932, at the age of seventy-eight. He was buried in the National Cemetery.23

A fellow soldier with a less certain past but one that made him a good candidate for folk hero status was Thomas W. Taylor, born in Freetown, Africa (Sierra Leone), on January 17, 1870.24 "He is only plain Tommy Taylor to the boys in blue," wrote Annabel Lee for the San Francisco Call, "but he is called Prince by his kith and kin, and one day he will be king. And that is why this story is told. It is a true dramatic tale of a royal household." Taylor claimed to be a Zulu prince whose real name was Jerger Okokudek ("Death-Leaves-One"). According to his account he left "Kafirland" and won medals from Cambridge University, which he attended with his ten sisters, and married Rosella Williams, French daughter of a professor. He then came to the United States and joined the Twenty-fourth at Fort Barrancas, Florida, to learn the art of modern war so he could return to his homeland to free his people.25 Taylor's story, while intriguing, raises questions. Freetown is located on the northwest coast of Africa, a considerable distance from the traditional homeland of the Zulus, and the name "Okokudek" hints at Yoruba origin. Taylor's statement that he enlisted in 1899 does not square with military records that have him enlisting on March 12, 1896. Unfortunately his full service record will not be available for scrutiny for some time.

Another infantryman, Parker Buford, served thirty years in the Twenty-fourth. He was born in Giles County, Tennessee, January 30, 1842. His son, James J. Buford, also served in the unit. In 1898 the family lived on the perimeter of Fort Douglas at 333 South 1300 East. A number of other black families lived in the general area.26 Discharged from the army in 1898, the elder Buford continued to live in Salt Lake until his death in 1911. He is buried in the Fort Douglas cemetery. His wife Eliza Elizabeth lived in Salt Lake until 1920 when she moved to Pasadena, California, dying there at the age of ninety. Thornton Jackson, also a member of the Twenty-fourth and long-time resident of Salt Lake City, witnessed Mrs. Buford's military pension application.27

Jackson was also a friend of Sergeant Alfred Rucker, according to Rucker's daughter Viola Rucker Dorsey. (Dorsey was born in the Fort Douglas hospital on January 24, 1896.) The Ruckers lived on the post and the children attended Wasatch School on South Temple street. After retirement the sergeant "drove a dobby wagon for the officers' wives." The "Lee, Irvine and Atchinson families lived close by." Dorsey said her "very stern, very noisy" father "liked Fort Douglas." When U. S. president Warren G. Harding visited Salt Lake City, Sergeant Rucker "stepped out and saluted the president during the parade. He was wearing his blue uniform and Harding stopped the parade to meet him." Viola married George Dorsey whose father was stationed at Fort Duchesne with the Ninth Cavalry.28

Most of the Twenty-fourth Infantry lived in Utah for only a short period of time. Those who stayed raised families, sent their children to school, and planted traditions that would be meaningful to their descendants.

According to newspaper reports the new residents of Fort Douglas were pleased with their assignment and "gratified at having been transferred from Texas to the promised land."29 The unit apparently wanted the people of Salt Lake City to have a good impression of them, for as one regiment member stated: "I do not say this from conceit, but you will find our regiment better behaved and disciplined than most of the white soldiers. It is not an easy matter to get 600 men together without there are one or two unruly fellows among them."30

Some questioned whether the black chaplain connected with the unit, Allen Allensworth, was an officer. In some accounts he was considered an exception to the all-white officer ranks, while others thought he was a civilian. Born a slave in Louisville, Kentucky, Allensworth was appointed to the position of army chaplain by President Grover Cleveland. The fact that he was picked by a Democratic president endeared him to Julius Taylor, editor of the Ax, who noted that Allensworth carried the distinction of being the only black army chaplain at that time.31 Allensworth was married and had two daughters, Eva and Nellia.

The arrival of the Twenty-fourth had an impact on the local black community. When the soldiers arrived on the Union Pacific, it was reported that "almost every colored resident in the city" met them at the station.32 There would be greater contact between the fort and black civilians in the months to come. Utah citizens in general were soon talking about the regiment band that over a three-year period would entertain thousands of people, about the infantry's "crack drilling," and the athletic ability of many of its members, both in track and baseball.33

Taylor, the energetic gadfly editor, was quick to report on his meetings with members of the regiment: "After we had mingled with a great many members of the Twenty-fourth Regiment, we came to the conclusion that they would rather crawl in bed with a thousand rattlesnakes rather than to associate with the following well-know negro haters and high priests of the g. o. Lilly white party: C. C. Goodwin, Esq. editor of that well-known negro-hating sheet, the Salt Lake Tribune; P. G. Lannan, ax-butcher and manager of the same; Ex-Mayor George M. Scott; Ex-banker James H. Bacon; Hon. James Glendinning and the Hon. Frank J. Cannon."34 It is unlikely that "a great many" enlisted men would have become so quickly attuned to the political situation in the city and the personalities involved. Taylor, however, rarely missed an opportunity to take Goodwin and Cannon to task, whatever the issue.

There was concern over how the newly arrived soldiers would make use of the diversions the city had to offer. The downtown boasted a number of attractions for a soldier looking to pass the time. One, located "on the east side of Commercial Street, near Second South," was called the "policy shop" and allegedly offered gambling, food, and liquor. There, according to a newspaper account, "Merchants, street-loungers, youth, prostitutes and even men in the employ of the city contribute their mite in the hope of fabulous winnings."35 Yet the strictness of military discipline and the earnestness of white officers and top sergeants enforcing it limited the pursuit of pleasure somewhat. According to the Ax: "Rev. Allensworth desires to inform the good people of our beautiful city that he would be more than pleased if all the saloons, gambling houses and immoral houses would absolutely refuse to entertain the negro soldiers, for he believes that there are a thousand white men who are willing to go to hell with the black man, but there are a very few who care to go to heaven with him. He hopes that the police will arrest every brazen faced woman, be she black or white, who attempts to travel on the street cars to and from the fort."36 Despite Allensworth's appeal, black soldiers did make use of the city for saintly and not-so-saintly purposes.

With the regiment well settled at Fort Douglas, "Chaplain Allensworth and a member of the Ax staff visited with President Wilford Woodruff head of the Mormon Church" four days before Christmas in 1896. Woodruff said "that he in common with the rest of our citizens desired to welcome all the members of the Twenty-fourth regiment to our city."37 The church leader made clear that he was welcoming the blacks as well as its officers. The Mormon position had been stated earlier in response to an article appearing in the Deming, New Mexico, Headlight and reprinted in the Deseret Evening News that asserted: "Mormons never thought much of the children of Ham and it had been one of their doctrines that the soul of a negro could never reach the exaltation of future bliss. The regiment will probably be ordered away in the course of a couple of years."38 The News, which quoted the article in order to refute it, retorted: "The Headlight is altogether wrong in its statement of Mormon doctrine; there is nothing in the teaching of the Latter-day Saints to justify the assertion quoted."39

Military routine at Fort Douglas offered little excitement for the enlisted men. While in the Southwest the regiment's duties had included "expeditions against the Indians . . . guarding strategic points, building roads, hunting horse thieves, and doing anything else which called for hard work and no fame."40 By contrast the Utah experience included practice marches, attendance at the post school, exercises in the gym during periods of cold weather, work at improving the post's water system, maintenance of the garden, janitorial work, clerk duties, work in the post exchange, drills, commissary work, maintenance of stables, and blacksmithing. From time to time an enlisted man might have an opportunity for detached service or recruiting and travel, for example, to Fort Logan, Colorado, or to one of the eastern cities.

For all of its regularity, enlisted men appeared to prefer military over civilian life. Re-enlistment was high. Between February 1, 1897, and April 1, 1898, the average number of enlisted men was 513. During that time the average number of vacancies was approximately twelve per month. In many cases individuals who thought they would leave changed their plans and remained in the service or accepted discharge and soon reenlisted. The post band was apparently considered excellent duty. For the same period, the band had an average of about one-half vacancy per month.41 One controversy that affected morale was Captain Augur's treatment of Private Barnes in late 1897. He struch Barnes because he "was not doing his job." Apparently there were witnesses, and Barnes was prepared to press his case against the captain. Colonel Kent investigated and found that "Augur was sorry," so he considered the matter closed. As the adjutant of Company D observed, Kent was "supporting his officer."42 The enlisted men displayed their displeasure over this by indicating they would not, in some cases, reenlist.

Private Barnes's willingness to bring charges against a white officer provides a glimpse into the state of racial integration at the time. Because disciplinary issues made good copy for local papers, it is possible to get a closer look at the atmosphere that existed at the post as well as to determine, to some extent, what soldiers did on their frequent visits to the city. However, there were fewer courts martial or other disciplinary actions before the unit's departure for the Spanish-American War in Cuba than afterwards.

It appears that soldiers were involved in wholesome extracurricular activities including societies and clubs, athletics, and other diversions from military routine. A number of men belonged to "Noah's Ark Lodge, G. U. O. of O. F." Lt. Peter McCann, who before January 1899 was a first sergeant in the Tenth Cavalry, helped set up the lodge when he served with the Twenty-fourth Infantry in New Mexico.43 In addition to Noah's Ark, some soldiers belonged to the Society of Prognosticators, organized while the regiment was stationed at Fort Bayard.44 Like many societies, it "operated under rules known only to the organization."45 A less secret group composed of enlisted men was the Christian Endeavor Society. It met once a week and invited guests to speak on a variety of topics. On one occasion Miss Nellia Allensworth, daughter of the post chaplain, spoke on "Confidence."46 Mr. Wake of Salt Lake City, on another occasion, chose as his topic "Our Missionary Work."47 The society regularly invited members of the Allensworth family and Sgt. James M. Dickerson to speak. The Frederick Douglass Memorial Literary Society was also active at the post. It sponsored instrumental solos, lectures, and debates on such topics as: "Resolved, that there is no future for the negro in the United States." ( The debate was decided in the affirmative).48 The society supported an amateur dramatic club as well.49 Other options for enlisted men included the Love and Hope Lodge No. 3858 which had ninety-five members. Affiliated with the "Grand United Order of Odd Fellows, a Colored order," it was founded at Fort Huachuca, Arizona, near the Mexican border. In Salt Lake City soldiers founded "city lodges of the order" to participate with civilians. W. W. Taylor, editor of the Plain Dealer, and Horace Voss were members of the lodges.50

The Williams and Prince Mistrel Company was organized at the fort and provided entertainment there and in the city.51 Dancing was another favored activity. Enlisted men gave "hops" and invited black civilians; a dancing school was conducted by Corporal and Mrs. Batie;52 and the New Year's holiday in January 1898 provided an occasion for the enlisted men to hold a masquerade ball.53 Post social life demonstrates the extent to which black civilians and soldiers mingled and the lengths to which soldiers went to improve the quality of their lives. There was enough such activity that the Herald reported, "Enlisted men want their own social hall for entertainment and dances and to hold meetings of their secret clubs."54

Athletics was important. Sports fans followed the Fort Douglas baseball team, the Colored Monarchs, in its competition against the Ninth Cavalry's team from Fort Duchesne and civilian teams from Salt Lake City. The Monarch's popularity led the Salt Lake City Street Car Company to donate ten dollars "to the post baseball fund" on one occasion. Individual players had their followers in the city, but sometimes, as in the case of James Flowers, "a good athlete and baseball player lacked the necessary qualifications of a soldier." Baseball "cranks" were disappointed when Flowers was dishonorably discharged from the service.55

The reputation of the Twenty-fourth's band was that it might be the best in the army, and it was as well received in Salt Lake as the athletic teams. The Herald reported that the band "seem to feel they are a part of this city and it is their duty to do all they can to make matters pleasing."56 At least one officer was less pleased with the band's fame. "I am aware," the first lieutenant lamented to the adjutant general's office, "that a regimental band has other purposes for its existence than the furnishing of music for a post dance once a week." He would have preferred that the band limit itself to that role to prevent the "unpleasant mixing of blacks and whites," apparently at establishments in the city.57

Senior officers were decidedly interested in maintaining a good image and went to great lengths to see that civilian requests were accommodated. As a result the band played for civic events, and musicians performed community services. Bandsman Walter E. Loving orchestrated music for a group called the High School Minstrels that performed at the New Grand Theatre. Apparently gifted, Loving also gave free vocal lessons and directed concerts.58

A year after the Twenty-fourth arrived, the Tribune printed an editorial that represented a change in view regarding the black soldiers. It recalled what had been previously written, predicting that "soldiers would ride on cars, drunk as well as sober, and that an intoxicated colored soldier is more offensive than an intoxicated white soldier." Admitting that this judgement had proved false, the paper observed how well behaved the soldiers were. In fact, they noted, the infantry had demonstrated "less rowdy characteristics" and were less addicted to drinking than any white regiment.59 The editorial represented an achievement for the Twenty-fourth. Relations had been good and, officially, at least, everyone appeared satisfied.

Almost nineteen months after the regiment arrived, the routine at Fort Douglas was interrupted by speculation that if it should become necessary to send troops to Cuba, the four "colored" regiments would be the first to depart. "It is acknowledged," reported the Denver News, "by men of experience in southern climates that white men from the cool regions of the northern states would fare badly in the treacherous climate of Cuba." The Colorado paper's prophecy that blacks would be "given ample opportunity to win glory" was accurate.60 One month later "both officers and men seemed to be rubbing up a trifle on Spanish for they accosted one another with 'buenos noches, compadre,' and 'adios' was the parting salutation."61 As they prepared to depart, and wives of children prepared to visit relatives in the East, post activities were reported with regularity and fanfare.

The announcement that orders had been received had its impact upon some Salt Lake City citizens: "Local dealers generally are deploring the issue [because] . . . each month in this city [soldiers spend] about $8000. . . . There is a class that is perfectly willing to see them go, but the merchant is not numbered among them." On a less mercenary note, patriotic civilians wanted to know exactly when the Twenty-fourth would leave, for "Everybody wants to see Uncle Sam's men when they start to battle for the honor of their country." The description of an infantryman preparing to leave the post is classic:

One soldier had his kit spread out on the floor of the veranda on front of his barracks. It contained besides the usual camp equipment, a cracked blue mug with a gilt label, "From One Who Loves You," running diagonally across its face. An inscription on the photograph gave Mobile, Ala., as the place where it was taken, and as the soldier rolled up his belongings he softly hummed:

"Down Mobile, Down Mobile,
How I love 'at pretty yellow gal,
Down Mobile."

As with so many enlisted men, this soldier, for the purposes of history, had no name. Like many others, he was hundreds of miles from home, away from his loved ones, preparing to go to war. That same day the post band gave one of its last performances: "The sun, from its lofty elevation in the western sky, shot a glint of gold through the newfledged leaves in the trees around the bandstand and touched the uniforms of the players with a stream of glory."62

Interest in the movement of the troops remained high throughout the city. It was reported that they would leave on April 19 at 7:30 p.m. Their departure was put off for another day, which disappointed thousands of people who had prepared to see the regiment off. They did leave on April 20, however, and the newspapers estimated that "15,000 to 20,000 people were on and about the depot grounds."63 Included in that throng were wives, children, and girlfriends who "sat for hours under the trees with their soldier lords and sires."64

As reported in the Tribune the following day, "The element of color seemed entirely eliminated."65 An editorial in the News spoke of the "mighty coincidence" of blacks freeing Cubans through war, as blacks were freed themselves, and that this "will mark another epoch in the tremendous evolution of human society."66 Ladies, reported the Tribune, who avoided riding on streetcars with soldiers were, on the preceding day, shaking hands with these same soldiers. William Gibson of Vernal who was at the depot recalled that he had seen Patrick E. Connor march through the city in 1862. Having seen both marches, he said, he was quite "satisfied" with the black troops.67

The Twenty-fourth distinguished itself in Cuba. That campaign is beyond the scope of this essay, but it may be important to note the devastating impact of yellow fever on the troops. "Out of the 456 men who marched to Siboney, only 24 escaped sickness . . . and of this number, only 198 were able to march out" on their own. As a result, within "the most famous regiment of African blood since Hannibal slaughtered 70,000 Romans," thirty-six suffered death and many more men were to carry lifelong disabilities resulting from yellow fever.68

On September 2, 1898, the Twenty-fourth returned to Fort Douglas amid the cheers of their countrymen. By December the war was officially over. The strength of the command was increased to 958 men. But gradually the warm welcome receded into a memory and the routine of the post was resumed. There were differences. Approximately half of the enlisted men at the fort were new to Salt Lake City. Because of the acceleration in recruitment for the war effort, the soldiers' average age had decreased, while re-enlistments, transfers, and discharges increased. In general the soldiers seemed to exhibit more restlessness.

When the infantry arrived for the first time in 1896, the soldiers seemed satisfied with the change in station. Subsequent reports indicated that a general feeling of well-being continued. However, just prior to the unit's departure for Cuba, the Ax reported: "Within the past ten days we have conversed with a number of the Twenty-fourth regiment and they all expressed a great desire to get away from Salt Lake City and to be located at some other point where it would be more congenial for them and their families." The report is not surprising. It was difficult for black people to live in Utah. However, it was difficult for blacks elsewhere at the turn of the century. If Taylor accurately portrayed the general attitude, his report offers a contrast between what otherwise appeared to be the good feeling between the soldiers and the general populace.69

The record is unclear. The officers and enlisted men alike were sensitive to their new Utah environment and sought to limit incidents that could reflect badly on black soldiers. Prior to their departure from the Southwest, Colonel Kent had made it clear that measures would be taken to prevent confrontations with Caucasians. Soldiers were only to visit the city in full uniform, curfews would be enforced, they were forbidden to work in the city, and they were told to defer to whites as a matter of policy. The regiment's record prior to its departure for Cuba indicates that the heightened discipline was effective, coupled with the apparent desire of enlisted men to make a good showing.

Experience in a national war and volunteer work in yellow fever camps in Cuba, however, were bound to have some impact on the soldiers. They had risked their lives, and some of their fellows had died. It is conjecturable that the returning soldiers felt less reticent and believed they had earned their place in society. Two enlisted men, Beverly Perea70 and a Sergeant Williams, had become commissioned officers, only to be reduced to ranks again on their return. Additionally the unit faced the prospect of being sent to the Philippines. These factors appeared to affect morale. One thing is certain: disciplinary problems increased.

Not that there had not been any previous incidents. Shortly after the regiment's arrival from the Southwest in 1896, H. B. Ballantyne and W. P. Gunn received the dubious distinction of being the first members of the Twenty-fourth to appear in the Salt Lake City police court. Both were fined for drunkenness, and Gunn received an additional fine for "packing a machete in such a manner as to lay himself liable to carrying a concealed weapon."71

Few soldiers followed the path of Ballantyne and Gunn until after the regiment's return from Cuba. Then a dozen enlisted men were cited for a variety of infractions in the first few months of 1899. These, and the associated punishments, included: offensive and indecent language to a noncommissioned officer (fine and fifteen days), scandalous conduct in the presence of ladies (two months at hard labor), assault upon another soldier (fine and twenty days), fraudulent enlistment (dishonorable discharge), and theft and desertion (one year at Fort Leavenworth prison). From these examples, notice that scandalous conduct in the presence of women, which was probably the use of distasteful language on a streetcar, was treated as a relatively serious offense, more so than assault upon another soldier. Community relations were obviously still considered to be quite important, and infractions involving civilians, especially women, were firmly handled.72

That there would be some misconduct does not seem unusual, but racial stereotypes tended to prevail in newspaper reports of the incidents. For example: "George Warren, a colored soldier, and Robert Brooks, a colored porter, stole a suit of clothes from another colored man and were captured by Sergt. Burbidge. During the trial yesterday the judge was compelled to listen to a ten minutes' display of oratory on the part of Warren, whose subject was: 'Craps, and how they should be played to be successful.' Warren was sentenced to thirty days, while Brooks who pawned the clothes, was given fifty days. 'Golly, thirty days to say nuffin 'bout what I'll get when I reaches de fote,' said Warren as he ambled away."73

Even as military and civilian officials were dealing with the flurry of disciplinary problems in early 1899, rumors persisted that the Twenty-fourth would soon be transferred. The rumors proved true. The men took up new assignments in Alaska, California (San Francisco), Montana, Washington, and British Columbia (Vancouver). Two detachments of twenty-five men each were sent to Sequoia and Yosemite parks "for the benefit of the health of the colored men, many of whom are nearly broken down from the effects of Cuban fever."74 In July 1899 four companies arrived in the Philippines for a three-year tour of duty.

Departing on two occasions from Utah, first for the Spanish-American War and second for the campaign in the Philippine Islands, the Twenty-fourth may be the most prominent United States Army regiment ever to have served from the state. However, the unit has not been regarded as having close ties with Utah. Personal relationships that may have been established during the stay at Fort Douglas are obscurred by time, and the "Buffalo Soldiers" remain indistinct in local memory. The fanfare of the unit's arrival, its participation in jubilee celebrations and other civic occasions, the baseball games, concerts, and other human dramas struggle to become part of the state's history. Perhaps this is as it should be. Few of the soldiers made Utah their home, and not many of their descendants live in the Beehive State today.

Nevertheless members of the Twenty-fourth, perhaps over 1,500 individuals, were a significant addition to Salt Lake City. The economic impact on the surrounding community was, of course, the same as with prior and subsequent military units. Socially, however, local residents for the first time in history experienced the influx of a relatively large and cohesive group that greatly augmented the already existing black community. Although the infantry had not been near a large city for thirty years, and although Salt Lake City had never had a large black population, the two sides managed. Generally speaking, suspicion and uncertainty gave way to confidence and resolution, stereotypes to a tenuous familiarity, and with the advent of war, the two worlds met in the arena of self-interest. Black soldiers, members of the Ninth Cavalry and Twenty-fourth Infantry and later the Twenty-fifth Infantry, became improbable ambassadors of Utah. More than 2,000 different soldiers carried a like number of versions about their stay in the "Great Basin Kingdom" to the far corners of the United States.

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