Sacramento County
Biographies
HON. WILLIAM B. HAMILTON
HON. WILLIAM B. HAMILTON is county clerk now for the third
term, having been elected to that office for the first time in 1885, re-elected
in 1887 and now again in 1889, on the two latter occasions being nominated by
acclamation by the Republican party, and each time
elected by majorities running away ahead of the rest of the ticket. Mr.
Hamilton was born in England in 1848, of mingled Scotch and English parentage,
his father being a native of the “Land o’ Heather and Thistle” and his mother
an Englishwoman, but before he had reached the mature age of one year, the
family removed to America, landing at New Orleans. The father came on the
following year to California, being thus an “Argonaut.” This occurred in
1853, when Mrs. Hamilton, after staying with friends for a short time in
Kentucky and Ohio, rejoined her husband, making the journey by way of the
Nicaragua River. American Flat, El Dorado County, was where the elder
Hamilton was working and at that point young “Billy,” for so his intimate
friends know him best, spent the three years until 1856, when he came to
Sacramento and has resided here ever since. In this city Mr. Hamilton
received his education in the schools of the place, and finally became a
student of law in the office of Coffroth &
Spaulding, the eminent attorneys of former days. Unfortunately Mr. Coffroth’s death occurred in 1874, and as young Hamilton
was without means, he was forced to take hold of the first thing that presented
itself. He was appointed clerk of the police court under Judge W. R.
Cantwell. Upon the expiration of his term in 1876, he received the
appointment of deputy county clerk under A. A. Wood, and held it under the
succeeding terms of Col. T. H. Berkey and C. M. Coglan. At the
expiration of the latter gentleman’s term in 1884, Mr. Hamilton received the
nomination upon the Republican ticket, and was elected by the handsome majority
of 1,301 votes. Again, in 1886 he was the unanimous choice of his party
and was elected by a plurality of 3,000; and now at the last election he was
also the Republican candidate without opposition and received the rousing
majority of 2,104. Of course, he is a true-hearted Republican to the
backbone, and an enthusiastic worker for the principles of the “grand old
party;” but that does not hinder his great popularity among men of the other
faith as well as his own, as is shown by his enormous vote. Mr. Hamilton
is a member of the Masons’ order in high standing, the Red Men, the A. O. U.
W., and is an ardent lover of field sports, at present occupying the presidency
of the Forester Gun Club. Mr. Hamilton is an unmarried man, but takes a
pleasure in caring for the wants of his aged parents, both of whom are still
alive, and are now, in the decline of life, enjoying the comforts that their
years demand at their son’s home. As an indication of the kind of man he
is, we can relate only one incident out of many.
Every
year there comes to Sacramento, a bowed and decrepit old Indian. He was
once of gigantic frame and of strength and energy corresponding, but the hand
of time has touched him, gently it is true, yet
ineffaceably. It is the old chief, Coppa-hembo
(the name means bear-slayer), once the head of a powerful tribe that dwelt in
the foot-hills of the Sierras. Like the race in general, this tribe has
almost disappeared, vice, indolence, fire-water and the heavy hand of the white
man having worked their ruin. Coppa-hembo, and
exception among them all, was sober, temperate and careful and still lives in
humble style with his squaw among his native canons. In 1854 Indians were
numerous about American Flat, and among them several tribes and chiefs, the one
named heading one tribe. At that early day white boys were very scarce in
the mining regions, and hence little Billy Hamilton, then a sturdy, independent
urchin of six years of age, was a favorite with every one, Indians as well as
miners. One day Coppa-hembo’s tribe of Indians
and another tribe had a dispute over some cause and came to blows. They
were ranged on opposite sides of the mountains near America Flat, and arrows
and bullets were flying thick and fast. Little Billy heard the shots and,
boy-like, heedlessly ran to the spot, and although warned away by the Indians,
who all knew and liked him, and who cried out “Wheelland,
come away,” stayed watching the fray. Presently there was a lull, and Coppa-hembo, taking advantage of it, sprang upon a pine
stump and began an oration, striving to pacify the opposing bands. In the
midst of the pacific effort, an arrow suddenly whistled across the gulch and
pierced Coppa-hembo’s thigh, bringing him to the
ground. Thoughtlessly and overcome with grief at the fall of his friend
little Billy dashed to him and strove to help him, in immiment
danger of his own life. This put an end to the battle, for the Indians
knew that the result of any hurt to Billy would mean a terrible revenge on the
part of the miners. Old Coppa-hembo remembers
this, and so every year is witnessed the touching spectacle of this feeble old
man making his way to this swarming city from his lonely wigwam to renew old
memories with “Billy,” now our honored county clerk. They go down to a
restaurant together, have a salmon broiled in a peculiar way, a special treat
to an Indian, and sit long over the rustic feast.
Transcribed
by Karen Pratt.
Davis, Hon. Win. J., An Illustrated History of Sacramento County,
California. Pages 558-560. Lewis Publishing
Company. 1890.
© 2006 Karen Pratt.