The
Brannigan Outrage
Throughout
these Misadventures,
Mike Brannigan has been a bad man—violent, petty, and lacking in
scruples. With this chapter, he will make the step from unlikeable
anti-hero to outright villain. To counteract the villainous Mike
Brannigan, let us introduce a protagonist—the pioneering frontier
actress Edith Mitchell.
Patriotism was on the playbill when Edith Mitchell headlined at Maguire's Opera House during the first months of the Civil War. From the Daily Alta California, May 11, 1861 (California Digital Newspaper Collection) |
(Read Part 8: The Worst Cabdriver in Sacramento)
Though often billed
as “The Great American Tragedienne,” Edith Mitchell was born in
London in 1834. Emigrating to the States at a young age with her theatrical family, she married a fellow expatriate English actor, William
Melmoth Ward, who, though once a handsome leading man, had by 1852
become notable for his “heaviness and abdominal prominence,” in
the words of a theater gossip columnist. When Edith headed west, her
husband appears to have stayed in New York, and soon disappears from
her story. Edith always used her maiden name on the stage.
The great Charlotte Cushman as Meg Merrilies. Edith's first big break was as Cushman's understudy in this role. (Wikipedia) |
Edith began her acting career in Buffalo and in New York City. Raven-locked, and armed with a powerful contralto voice, she was drawn to melodramatic roles such as Lucrezia Borgia, the gypsy woman Meg Merrilies from Guy Mannering, and the vengeful and tragic Lionne from The Doom of Deville—a part which she claimed had been written expressly for her. One critic noted approvingly that, in addition to acting ability, Edith had "external advantages in her favor."
About 1858 she started travelling the West. For the next few years she appeared onstage in several Western cities, including Chicago (where she was indifferently received), Milwaukee (where she was a smash hit), St. Louis (where she fired her manager for attempting to steal her $70 watch), and Louisville (where she “gained many admirers”). In April of 1861 she arrived in San Francisco, and headlined for seven weeks, first at Maguire’s Opera House, then at the American Theatre.
A pro-Union rally at Post and Market streets in early 1861, during the outbreak of the Civil War. (San Francisco Public Library) |
It was an exciting
spring. The Civil War had just begun, and Californians received
updates on Eastern developments via the Pony Express. Patriotic,
pro-Union sentiment was widespread, and one vocal supporter of the
Confederacy had to flee town after being burned in effigy.
Accordingly, San
Francisco’s theaters rose to the occasion with patriotic fare. One
of Edith’s first performances at Maguire’s was as the star of
Edith of Pennsylvania, a Revolutionary War drama written
expressly for the occasion, accompanied with patriotic songs and
speeches, and “a Grand Tableau of the Declaration of Independence.”
During her seven weeks on the San Francisco stage, Edith also
performed the pro-Temperance play, Ten Nights In A Bar-Room,
headlined the tragedy Evadne, and of course starred in her
reliable “sensation drama,” Doom of Deville.
Reviewers tended to
emphasize the forcefulness of her performance. The Alta
stated:
A large audience was in attendance at the second representation of the “Doom of Deville” last evening. The piece, though long, has many redeeming features, and some of the scenes are truly ludicrous in the extreme. ... Lionne is finely managed by Miss Mitchell, and her impassioned portrayal won warm and frequent applause. The part is very heavy, and requires strength and great elocutionary powers to sustain it successfully to the close.
The Bulletin
opined that:
Unhappily, her figure is too stout to be very graceful on the boards; yet she possesses a strong, full toned voice, and recites very well.
In the opinion of
the Golden Era,
Her intensity at times, ‘tis true, approximates to raving—an error into which she is betrayed by superabundant vitality, we should say, rather than lack of judgment.
Edith’s
“superabundant vitality” was a necessary quality for a single
woman in her twenties traveling the Western frontier. Apparently,
Mike Brannigan was drawn to such strong, independent women, often with
bad consequences. On the one hand, he was a close friend of Belle Cora, the tragic San
Francisco madame, who had even given Mike some of her late husband's clothes when Brannigan had been exiled from San Francisco by the Vigilance Committee. On the other hand, when Frances Willis stood up to Mike, he had
struck her across the face with a horse-whip.
Steamships departing for Sacramento from the San Francisco waterfront, 1860s. (Online Archive of California) |
On June 22, Edith
took the river steamer up to Sacramento, to begin a run at the
Metropolitan Theater. Mike Brannigan met her at the docks and took
her in his elegant carriage to her rooms at the St. George. The next
day was a Sunday; when Edith descended the stairs of the hotel she
found Mike waiting for her. The Sacramento Bee reported their
conversation as follows:
Mike ... said, ‘Madame, while you are in this city my carriage is ever at your disposal. Would you not like to take a drive this afternoon?’
Miss Mitchell replied, ‘No, sir, it is too warm to-day.’
‘Perhaps you don’t remember me,’ said Mike; ‘I am the gentleman who drove you up from the boat last night.’
‘Ah, indeed, sir, you were very kind; but I did not pay you.’
Miss Mitchell here made a motion to take out her purse, when the hack driver interposed, ‘There is nothing to pay, madame. While you are in Sacramento my carriage is at your disposal, free of charge. All the actresses patronize my carriage, and I used to drive out Mrs. Hayne, Miss Hodson, and all the rest of them.’
Mike could be
charming when he wished, and Edith eventually agreed to go out
riding, as long as she could bring along two older women as
chaperones. They spent the afternoon at Smith’s Gardens, a nursery
and pleasure resort just outside of town, then stopped off for food
and drinks at the Tivoli House on the way home. Here Edith noticed a
funny taste in her beer—not mistakenly, as Mike had mixed it with
brandy. She was suspicious enough to order another bottle which she
poured herself.
Come evening, Mike
had drunk too much to drive home, so two of his hired drivers rode
out in a second carriage. Edith and her chaperones piled into the new
carriage to head back to the St. George, while Mike climbed into the
back of the other one. Mike called for Edith to come to his carriage
and ride back with him; after a few minutes she complied. The
carriages headed out in different directions. Along the way, Edith
passed out, and Mike raped her.
About four in the
morning, Edith woke up in bed in a strange house with Mike getting
dressed next to her. Her arms and legs were covered with bruises.
After she passed out again, Mike left and spent the morning bragging
to various low-life friends about his conquest.
She woke again
around seven, and made her way into the street. In addition to what
she had already suffered, her situation was bleak. The cultural
double standard regarding rape, which still persists to this day, was
all the stronger back in 1861. For a public figure like Edith
Mitchell, being the victim of rape could be devastating to her
career. Brannigan was certainly counting on Edith to be broken by the
experience, and to crawl back to San Francisco in shame. When she
returned to the St. George, the management informed her that, due to
her disreputable conduct over the night, she would have to seek other
accomodations.
But Edith was tough,
and she stood her ground. Summoning the police and a lawyer, J.W. Coffroth, she bravely gave her account of the night’s events. The
police set up a search for Mike; and the hotel manager backtracked on
expelling Edith, instead announcing that Mike Brannigan was no longer
welcome on the premises of the St. George Hotel. After delivering
statements to the police and reporters, Edith rested briefly and
then, despite everything, went to the Metropolitan Theater and
performed that very evening as Lionne in The Doom of Deville.
As word of the
outrage spread on the street, Mike Brannigan wisely dropped out of
sight. Anger spread through Sacramento like wildfire, and there was
talk of lynching Brannigan if he could be found. Luckily for Mike,
the police found him first, hiding in a stable, and clapped him
safely in jail.
Through prompt,
decisive action, and sheer strength of character, Edith Mitchell was
able to prevent the rape from becoming a blight on her career. She
finished her tour of Sacramento to high acclaim. The next year, she
again headlined at San Francisco’s leading theaters, then toured
Canada. In 1864 she decided to set off across the Pacific. While
waiting for a ship to Honolulu, she gave what is remembered today as
the first performance of Shakespeare in Seattle, a dramatic reading
in which Edith played all the parts, “being the whole troupe
herself.”
Advertisement from The Argus (Melbourne, Australia) of August 15, 1865. (National Library of Australia) |
From Hawaii, Edith
traveled on to Australia, headlining in Melbourne and Sydney (where she was panned by critics), and Adelaide (where she was a smash hit). Drawn yet again to the frontier, she traveled further
West, where Edith and her colleague Annie Hill became the
first professional women thespians to tour Western Australia.
Still seeking
adventure, Edith continued her journey, setting off from Perth to
India, intending perhaps to circle the globe. In India she toured Calcutta, Bombay, and the North-Western Provinces, but while en route to Ahmedabad she fell
sick of dysentery. The American press barely noticed her death on
January 2, 1868, at the age of 34.
And what of Mike
Brannigan?
Once again, Mike
gained access to a crack team of lawyers who were able to delay the
case for month after month. In the meantime, Mike remained locked up
in jail since, having lost his business, he had trouble making
bail—or perhaps he was unwilling to post bail, seeing as Edith
Mitchell’s father was rumored to be waiting for him with a pair of
derringers.
J Street and the St. George Hotel during the Great Flood of 1861-2. (Sacramento Public Library) |
In January of 1862,
as Sacramento was ravaged by devastating floods, Mike’s case
finally came to trial. He was defended by the great pioneer defense
attorney, Col. G.F. James, who had also argued Mike’s defense in
the Frances Willis case. The defense made almost no attempt to argue
that Mike was innocent, instead drawing up a long list of
irregularities and technicalities to get the case thrown out. The
judges were not convinced, and the jury returned a verdict of guilty
as charged.
On January 30, 1862,
the gates of San Quentin shut behind prisoner 2308—Mike Brannigan,
convicted to a sentence of ten years.
Exactly one year
later, he was free.
(Next time: Escape from San Quentin!)
Advertisement from Perth Gazette and West Australia Times, September 15, 1865. (National Library of Australia) |